Saturday, August 29, 2009

Amolkanti ra Aajo Achhey (Nirendronath Chakrabortyr "Amolkanti"r Jonyo Ektukro Roddur)

Amolkantira aajo achhey

Aajo tara ishkuley last benchitey boshey

Janla diye bairer akash dyakhey

Onko classey anmone penciler doga chiboy

Bangla classey bairer krishnochura gachhtaye

boshey thaka shalikh-chhana der dike takiye thakey….

Aar bhabey – “Ishh, Jodi roddur hotam….”

Bairey takhon ek akash roddur……


Aar bikelbyalaye jakhon mon-kharaper roddur

Rail-colony r quarterer barigulor bhuturey churo chhariye

Shibmondirer alo-aNdhari botgachher jhhuritey dol kheye

Krishnochura-jamrul-shimul-chNapa der ador korey

Jhhup korey purono lock-out karkhanar compoundey,

Football khyalar mathhey nemey ashey,

Takhon Amolkantira ball paye goalpost er shamney

dNariye shot nitey bhuley jaye…..

Boka r mato takiye thakey….

Golar kachhey dola pakiye othha dukkhotakey

giley niye roddur ke jiggesh korey –

Roddur, tumi choley jabey?”


Amolkantir bondhura baro hoy,

Keu hoy Daktar, keu hoy Ukil, keu ba Master

Amolkanti baro hoy na…. karon o ek-muthho

roddur hotey cheyechhilo


Tarpor ekdin du’bey jetey thakey

Ekta khupri ghorey ekla shuye shuye Amolkanti

nona dhora deoalgulor dikey takiye dambandho

andhokarder shathey lorai korey jaye….

Okey jey roddur hotei hobey !

Noiley shob pakhider gaan bandho hoye jaabey……

Shob phool morey jabey…..


Tai pratyohikotara jakhon tNuti chepey dhorey

Takhon o Amolkanti ekmone bhebey jaye –

Ishh….Jodi roddur hotey partam…..”

Shei Bangla class er matoi…..


Amolkanti daktar o hoy ni, ukil o hoy ni,

baro o hoy ni…..


Jeydin Amolkantira aar thakbey na

Sheydin shesh roddurer kona tuku o nibhey jabey

Aar prithibitey nemey ashbey garho

robotiyo andhokaar…..

Ekhono shei din ashey ni

Karon Amolkantira aajo achhey……

Friday, August 28, 2009

Angel

Bumping along the words of Corso in this lonely midnight,

with my arms wrapped around the waist of some

unfound muse beyond those hazy horizons,

as this trembling sleepless night rolls along

like many nights such as these –

one making way for the other…..


I’ve spent all my faith chasing empty mirages

and seeking the forlorn and distant morning star

I’ve drank all my hope to the nameless mirth

of the unattainable glory and the dancing arorae

I’ve scattered all my love in the lonely rainforests

where the ghostly breeze sings a lullaby

to the shivering leaves on dreary nights like these


I’m living a lie…..I live on futilities

I don’t know what I seek

and I never will…. Like rowing along this

endless ocean….. like gliding beyond

those distant lifeless kingdoms of eternity…….


beyond the dark waters

beyond everything that exists

beyond everything that doesn’t

beyond the purposeless being

beyond the ancient times and places

beyond the void and restless souls

beyond the nebulae dreams

beyond me-myself-you-yourself……


And now for the Journey –

From one miracle to another

Drowning in this futile quest –

like the doomed sailors who never return

like the pilgrims who die of thirst

the Journey…. The Journey……


And someday I might reach the sad island

where you stay

I might stand at your doorsteps like a beggar

I might stretch out my palms before you…..

But I won’t seek your faith

I won’t seek your hope

I won’t seek your love……

All I’ll seek is your thunderbolt

to strike me down……

That’s all I’ll seek, perhaps

But all these shall be in a dream


Till then, it’s the Voyage –

the faithless, hopeless and loveless Voyage

Wait for me in another beautiful dream

And I’ll be waiting too

We shall meet again,

My Angel

Thursday, August 27, 2009

Mohajagotik

Mohajagotik pNyacha

Pran khuley tui chNyacha

Aar kono bNadha nei

Ei ami ami shei


Mohajagotik poka

Tui asto ekta boka

Gortey lukash kyan

Korish bujhhi dhyan?


Mohajagotik dNari

Tor shathey mor aari

Jhhulish badur-jhhola

Edikey pant er chain khola


Mohajagotik hero

Torey behala shekhaye Nero

Rome holo purey chhai

Shala lojja sharom nai?


Mohajagotik lover

Boli poisha kato baba r?

Chakri jota agey

Noile mathaye hagbey kaagey


Mohajagotik chhagol

Orey khol rey moner agol

Ghash chibobi jato

Lokey gandu bolbey tato


Mohajagotik shobai

Ebar korbo toder jobai

Aar kono bNadha nei

Ei ami ami shei

Chhuti

Onuk agun jwelechhi

Onek nouko bhashiyechhi

Dubechhi, bheshechhi

Eibaar chhuti nebo

Ekhon klanto, achchhonno,

Abosh

Shabdo purey jaoar shabdo

Chhai – shara gaye

Pora kobitar kotugandho

Kobita puriye jenechhi

Jey kobita dhhupkathhi noy

Kobita diye pujo kora jaye na

Haat bariyechhi shiimanar dikey

Shiimanar ostitwo nei jeneo

Bhebechhi agamii r kotha

Agamii r ostitwo nei jeneo

Likhechhi premer kotha

Prem bole kichhu hoy na jeneo

Ami murkhho, kimba utpakhi

Etodin moriichika der dhrubotara bhebe

dibbi katiye dilam

Ekhon duchokhey klanti

Du’haatey mithye kothar kolima

Aar koljer bhhitor kaalkeuter bhhishon bish….

Onek hoyechhe, aar noy

Eibarey chhuti nebo

To Binoy Majumdar : An Open Letter

As I lay sleepless in my bed

As I walk along the burning streets of my city

As I stand before the mirror and burn myself as well

As I tremble in passion and pain – centuries old

Your strange flowers and chocolates creep into me


As I put my dreams in my paper-boats in the rain

As I roll my hopes in my cigarettes and smoke them away

As I fool around with my sorrows in deserted midnight streets

As I stand and stare helplessly at my faith getting bulldozed

Your poison drives me to madness and mirth


As I search for remnants of love in my own ashes

As I listen to my own sighs echoing in those stone corridors

As I stab my heart time and again and wait in vain

for some blood to flow out

As I look outside my window and think of the oceans that existed

and the rivers that flowed

I realize that the wheel didn’t return

The chariot, the victory and the poetry – eternal

Those were but the mirages that didn’t exist

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Lovemaking

Walking in the sky cold lonely fucked up

Till everything disappears and emptiness

stands before my eyes, naked and angelic

An orgasm, ohhh….! This wildest child !

Emptiness – I’ll fuck her black and blue

I’ll fuck the living devil off her ass

Emptiness emptiness emptiness emptiness

Ruined like old Egypt void like the Colossus

Black pages of history replete with slaves

and whores leave me and my cock alone

it’s better that way ohh emptiness emptiness

and now the fever and the rain howling

Thirtythreethousand dead souls wailing

for love –

Can’t they shut the fuck up?

So that’s the story

Walking in the clouds

Peace….peace……

P.S. Are those really the clockhands or just the dicks of time?

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

My Blue Love

Hopeless desires creep through Your bones

and break down in lonely subways at dead of night –

crying, like a mirror, shattered to a thousand blue pieces

Hollow, Naked, Divine…….

These pages are torrid, copious, like midnight rain,

like sad saxophones, like tears…..blue and Angelic……

Making love to the cold melancholia of Your eyes….

Dying forlorn loveless deaths in a thousand empty

nights…. Like moths diving into the flames……

like the numbness that seeps into the roots

from beyond the deathless pale of the misty hazy

horizons and clouds…….

Breasts….. white like the sad snow of the full moon

yet lively…..like two chariots of fire……….

The ivory of passions rushing through from the zero

to the infinite – the journey of the nameless mirages –

chasing the fools to their eternity….. like the aurorae….

like the fire of Babylon…… lonely nights of Babylon

through the grass and mud of fifty two centuries

The Angel sighs……The Angel cries

The goblet of poison

The acid of my veins…….

The eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani

rustling through the leaves

The worn out words Ginsberg encircling the smokes

like black serpents in hypnotic fury

The ancestors of these million seraph nights blowing

their trumpets in the maddening blue harmony

The guilt of Jocasta trembling in the rage of Oedipus

The million Caesars marching past Rubicon

The dark wombs of previous births

The endless Benzedrine harmonies,

The pains of Resurrection

The smiling skeletons

The dead butterflies

The lost memories

The dates

The facts

The desires

The thirst

The Buddha

The Dharma

The Sangha

The Ohm

The Tat

The Sat…..

The Angel sighs.....

The fireflies fight the stars

The new world beckons from

the other side of the nightshade

The tired blue Dylan walks away

from the fume and fury, vanishing

into the lonesome midnight mist…….

The Jokerman, the Tambourine Man,

The Man of Constant Sorrow – they too

dissolve and melt and fade away into the

senile silent worship of the faithless Dahlia…..

And yet, and yet,

the Angel sighs, yes she does

And then she breaks like a little girl…….

The moon…..Your forehead……

Your sleep……I’ll eat the moon,

I’ll eat Your forehead, I’ll eat Your sleep

I’ll eat You up……The blue You….

I’ll make love to You like the Fire

makes love to the Skies and the Clouds

to the mystic Ganges with the Sun

dipping down for one final time…..

the Holy Dip……the red blur in the waters….

The final finite Red before the eternal Blue

The dancing nymphs in the moonlight

swirl around the dreamy dusts and histories

of the times since the beginning of time

and break themselves and the visions

into the ultimate realization of the Ka

and the insatiate whispers of breathing,

fainting, in the halo of nicotine nightmares

and the cold blue assurance of the gist of

everything to exist or not to

and the waiting for final vision to arrive

at last. Puking away the ill-conceived

cycles and karmas and reasons and metaphors

and hallucinations and such worthless fa├žade

that cover You up like a blue haze……smoke……

Oh yes, the blue…… the blue……

The blue ashes

The blue dust

The blue light

The blue darkness

The blue myrrh

The blue canvas

The blue Lorca

The blue abyss

The blue sadness

The blue absinthe

The blue whispers

The blue death

The blue El

The blue Shantih……

The blue everything……

The blue You

You…. You….. You……..

Ohm Bhur Bhuvah Swah, Tat Savitur Varenyam
Bhargo Devasya Dhimahi, Dhiyo Yo Nah Prachodayat

Everything for You…..

Sunday, August 16, 2009

Cold Turkey Sighs

No more, no more,

O magic mystic whore,

No more !

No more tricks, no more games

No more smokes, no more flames

No more, no more !


No more, no more,

O magic mystic whore,

No more !

No more flesh, no more lust

No more thirst or Angel Dust

No more, no more !


No more, no more,

O magic mystic whore,

No more !

No more graffiti of bones and skulls

No more peeing on temple walls

No more, no more !


No more, no more,

O magic mystic whore,

No more !

No more crazy midnight blues

No more Alice on public loos

No more, no more !


No more, no more,

O magic mystic whore,

No more !

No more blackbirds, no more stars

No more tears and hidden scars

No more, no more !


No more, no more,

O magic mystic whore,

No more !

No more vignettes of shattered pain

No more silhouettes and sudden rain

No more, no more !


No more, no more,

O magic mystic whore,

No more !

No more rambling in filthy rags

No more rainbows, no more fags

No more, no more !


No more, no more,

O magic mystic whore,

No more !

No more dreams of eternal bliss

No more serpents’ beastly hiss

No more, no more !


No more, no more,

O magic mystic whore,

No more !

No more longing, no more sighs

No more drowning in your eyes

No more, no more !


No more, no more,

O magic mystic whore,

No more !

No more poison, no more strife

No more void and pointless life

No more, no more !



Repaying My Debt to Marquis de Sade and Charles Baudelaire

The same words written,

The same lovers smitten

The same cigarettes smoked

The same evenings, doped

The same music being played

The same shitty words being said

The same roof, the same walls

The same streets and movie-halls

The same poor, the same rich

The same dog, the same bitch

The same joy and the same pain

The same loss and the same gain


The same old-fart sun rising up

The same cheap coffee in the same cup

The same raindrops from the same clouds

The same hazy faces from the same crowds

The same nights with the same dreams

The same fears and the same screams

The same Judges and the same rules

The same assholes, the same fools

The same audience, the same game

The same guilt and the same shame

The same flesh with the same desire

The same ashes from the same fire


I feel so screwed-up in this whirlpool

I feel like a maniac, I lose my cool

This sameness – it’s like a mystic maze

Like a shroud I want to set ablaze

I need some gasoline, I need some fuel

Now come on ennui, fight me a duel !

I’ll take your life and I’ll rape your wife

And I’ll stab your children with my cold steely knife

You’ve tortured me for long – now it’s payback time

I hear your death-bells, oh how sweetly they chime !

Now fight me like a man, I’m ready with my sword

For I’m Barbaric, I’m Mystical and I’m Bored……..

Saturday, August 15, 2009

The Dead Nightingale

They’re playing the funeral song real slow

They’re taking the dead nightingale to the grave

Four of them carry the coffin

The King, the Queen, the Ace and the Knave……..


I was chained in the cage of love

The nightingale used to sing to me

Her songs were sad, her wings were broken

But now she’s dead, now she’s free


She was chained in the cage next to mine

She was lonely, and so was I

And on silent nights when the moon was down

She used to sigh and I used to cry


Deep inside my restless heart

I could hear the rattling of her chain

Her feet were tied, she tried to be free

As the silent night trembled in pain


And now she has gone far far away

Beyond the misty shores of the sea

But her songs – sad and sweet

Will stay forever inside me………


So, the King, the Queen, the Ace, the Knave

They’re laying her down on the snow

The nightingale is dead, it’s time to mourn

They’re playing the funeral song sad and slow……