Wednesday, April 15, 2009

Drunk, Silent, Phantasmagoric

Storm and dust - raging throughout
the empty canvas of my heart
Roaring by my bullit aches...
In the feet of the dead Pharaoh
My worship and my flowers converse
By the ethos of the totemic mongrels
And the deserted prosceniums...
Sealed lips,
Bitter moon... waning orthodoxy of the words
Saladin's sword glinting in the naked sun
of the hatred that had burnt eversince....
Blatantly, loveless,... shaken like a charred
reverie from the morbid pages of history
As Hynkel the barber stands tall, with
Sisyphus and Harun-al-Rashid joining
the charade...

No point staying put now
For the platoons have fallen
And all poems are banished from the
kingdom of the prophets....
Let's just keep the fire burning,
(without giving a shit 'bout whether we
started it or not)
for our memories and our children
to feel the warmth...


Samadrita said...

This is good as usual and thankfully enough I didn't have to read this one twice to understand everything. :P Anyway amar blog adress change hoye gechhe re-
Follow that one.

NesQuarX said...

Very strong visual imagery on this one... I likes!

Atindriyo said...


The modern penfighter said...

Your poetry reveals truths that reality obscures.