Comrade Saroj Dutta, Your Ghost

Sitting by the statues that were always there

As fields turn into houses 

and green crops turn into green money

the crops were red with your blood

the money is green with my greed

flowers that never bloom

decorate stairwells of the king's highway

rivers of gold and death spill over

the sun wilts down

the moon wastes away

they carry big men on big black cars

and guards with guns guard the gate of justice

there's a show by the pillars tonight

but men with guns have taken my keys

they'd taken yours too, but you had the guts

to ask it back

so they shot you instead.

i was in a carnival

the music was strong

the wheels were wild

they were to try the killer 

they were to hang the killer

they called out the killer's name

but it was my name

so i hid behind a mask

so they shot my brother instead.

these days, the streets are busy

we have too many bombs to feed

hearts heave booms before heavy iron bars

these days, the nights are haunted

we have said all words

we have heard all sounds

we have dreamed all dreams

now we repeat it all

through tragedies and farces

once there was a lizard that stayed behind a wall-clock

it came out at odd hours

i had named it Newton

but then it fell on a tub of muriatic acid

it's ghost lives by the clock-hands

and eats the flesh of time  

the ghost of this dead reptile

glides by red clouds of midnight

it's always a cold midnight

they chopped you to pieces on a cold midnight

they left you by the pillars of false history

before false judges to determine

with their false teeth chattering in make-believe wisdom

the mist has grown thick ever since

so thick that no foglight can pierce through,

no sniper can aim at

the keys are still with them

but they better be wary 

their guns can't kill dead people

their bombs can't rip ghosts of dead dreams

and when ghosts ride out to reclaim all that's lost

-- it's always a beautiful dream to live and die by.