Kind Cows Shot Through Inter Alia Death Desiderata Disco-Pain

Let us all unite against this damnation

Let us fight this decay and defeat

It’s late and the Gods from the skies are spitting

on our heads

and the sparrows are shitting there too

but better late than never

there might be some light or

there might be a lot

or there might be none

the frogs might make love

and the nuns might all go insane

but it’s a shame how we wait

for things to happen

and then things don’t

and then we wait some more

till our outsides and insides

start rotting

teeth and balls start falling

and guts start curling upwards

like diseased leaves.

it’s all a shame, this training

to get used to boredom

to abhor solitude

and poverty

or to love them, desire them

to piss on living

to piss on dying

to waste and wither away and conk off with a whimper

it’s a shame, this denial of choices

this worshipping of compromises and stale morsels;

we’re melting down

and soon we’ll all become

waxes on mud

horse-shit on straw

maggots on the rotting flesh of life

it’s all a crooked parody of what we were supposed to be

what we could’ve and should’ve been:

Kings and Queens of the world

Let us resist this disgrace of total decimation

Let us beat the shit out off the conspiracies the pile up

on the hunchback of life,

this utter indignation of being forced to

wilt away before being allowed to bloom out loud

Let us fight the doom that holds us down –

Before it’s too late

Before all doors and windows shut off

and walls and roofs close in.

We must reclaim our bright Empire

under the sky

and blaze through the dark

avenues of timeless history.

We deserve this.

…………………………………………………………………….

There was an aquarium at the reception

of the office where I was waiting

for my call from the interviewers

It had green and yellow fishes

and the water had a bluish tinge to it

maybe because of the tiny bulb inside.

The receptionist, she was a middle aged lady

of tender bearing:

her lip-gloss was pink.

The plastic flowers peeping from the vase

on her desk

were pink as well.

It was raining like hell outside

though nothing could be heard from inside the lounge.

It seemed like a monster was lurking somewhere

ready to burst out through the curtains

and tear the calmness apart with terrible rage

and I was there, sipping my double-shot espresso

staring at green and yellow fishes,

waiting for it to come out and explode

But it didn’t

and I got my call from the interview board

comprising of a fat old man in Armani

and a fascinatingly ugly woman

with massive boobs.

There was a picture of a white stallion –

running –

on the table

Among other things I was asked what creature

I relate to most.

I said fishes, mostly green and yellow ones

in aquariums

of posh lounges.

I wasn’t lying.

While coming out, I noticed that

everything remained just the way I had left them

The fishes the flowers and the receptionist and her lipstick

were all in appropriate places

No monster had broken free yet.

And it was still raining outside.

I went down to my favourite booze shack

and spent the rest of the day there

and stumbled back home way past midnight:

Tripping on happily despairing visions

of green and yellow fishes in Armani and colossal boobs and pink lipsticks

interviewing

hopeless drunkards,

from across tables with pictures of white

horses

running,

and fat old men and ugly women and tender ladies

floating around in bluish waters of sparkling aquariums.

They had told me that they will let me know

Three months down and I haven’t heard from them yet.

……………………………………………………………

Chromosomes march out tonight

They’re playing the music loud

in squares and parks and pavements,

they’re letting me know

of their hunger and thirst,

of their life and death:

through pamphlets and roars

and everything loud and everything clear

Soon, all rivers will flood

all mountains will break

and all skies will open up and pour something dreadful out

And cities will shrivel up

and sidewalks will be ablaze

and buses and trams will turn into demons hideous as sin

and theaters will show shows of fear.

and love will turn lawless

and hate will run free

and flowers of tender mercy will not be of tender mercy anymore.

The chromosomes are brutal tonight

because I had ignored their letters of deliverance

and they’re marching out in fury

loud and clear.

……………………………………………………………………………….

I had seen a street dog die.

It was hot like devil’s armpits

and the dog was sick for some days –

wasn’t making any sound,

limping.

My neighbour –

a forty three year old widow

with splendid curves and reportedly loose morals –

had given him rice and a boiled egg

and a bowl of medicated milk.

I know this because I was

observing her stately ass

as she bent down

and crushed some tablets on the milk

a few minutes before.

The dog

ate a little

of the rice,

nibbled at the egg,

sniffed the milk

and staggered away

Like a beat soldier walking back home

it dragged its weary body down

to the loose widow’s staircase,

shivered for a few seconds

and heaved into an abrupt arch.

And once that moment bigger than heaven or hell

or everything the dog or the widow or I knew

or didn’t know

passed,

it flopped down

into a large still mass of flesh bones and skin

and just that

and not a dog anymore

Soon enough, folks from the municipality

came down and took the mass away

because this is a posh neighbourhood

and stray dogs aren’t allowed to lie dead on the smooth streets here

for very long.

I watched the entire thing as it happened and did nothing.

God’s been closing in on me since then.

………………………………………………………….

This I write for you.

This dank dark room you saw me living in

before you left

is still here

and I am still here inside it

while you’re flying away

to a different world, a beautiful dream.

The concept of you

not being here

is scarier

than your not being here.

Outside, the sweaty August night

is etched with sad patterns

of desperate minutes and seconds of love.

You’ve taken everything when you left

And with you the idea of absolute purity is gone.

Those furious beasts inside

whom you made me make peace with

are breaking through

once again.

I’m staring at your pictures

I’m staring at everything silent, everything ghastly blank.

This life is no better

This death is no better

And it’s all shit.

Be happy, you splendid woman.

……………………………………………………………………………….