Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Contemplation
He looked at his watch twice.
2nd time in 10 minutes.
36th drag of his 3rd cigarette.
Glanced sideways into the gathering
storm.
He still contemplates the sun.
Whether you'll reach,
before the damage is done.
2nd time in 10 minutes.
36th drag of his 3rd cigarette.
Glanced sideways into the gathering
storm.
He still contemplates the sun.
Whether you'll reach,
before the damage is done.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Electricidy
We interrupt the programme to bring you a very small announcement.
When you leave, don't forget yourself behind.
Face to face
Name Game
We are letting
some people talk too loud,
thinking they are making sense.
When you leave, don't forget yourself behind.
Face to face
Name Game
We are letting
some people talk too loud,
thinking they are making sense.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Hot Chocolate Fudge
3 pairs of sandals,
Walking all over me.
16 minutes of silence
I'm stung by the bee.
Honey dripping all down
She never cares for me.
A single pair of old boots
Lets hitchhike through our dreams
Open up the doorway
The sunshine coming in.
Let your sexy hair down
We gotta do a jig
Welcome to the highway
Where everybody slips
Light up the candy candle
Heighten up the scene
Pull it baby hard now
The stone gotta seethe
Help me with this one now
Help me let it sing
13 grams of hidden stash
Helps me find me.
C'mon lady stand now
the soapbox waitin' still.
Walking all over me.
16 minutes of silence
I'm stung by the bee.
Honey dripping all down
She never cares for me.
A single pair of old boots
Lets hitchhike through our dreams
Open up the doorway
The sunshine coming in.
Let your sexy hair down
We gotta do a jig
Welcome to the highway
Where everybody slips
Light up the candy candle
Heighten up the scene
Pull it baby hard now
The stone gotta seethe
Help me with this one now
Help me let it sing
13 grams of hidden stash
Helps me find me.
C'mon lady stand now
the soapbox waitin' still.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
The Song-Bird
Look at me now. I am quiet. I am not shouting. I am not fighting anymore. Look at us now. Estranged. Separated by a small yet unconquerable distance. It's just one small step that we are so afraid to take. That's how it goes. Look at them. Still laughing.
Defeated, the crown prince exhales his last breath. On the dust before his face. Blood dripping, drop drop on the battlefield. Lips dried under the sun. Coated with blood and dirt. His flesh quivers as the flies begin settling in. Just a drop of water. Yes, that would make him feel better. Remember how she brought him water? And brought him food and sat beside him while he rested his tired knees. Silently fanning, the sweat which evaporated leaving him cold.
Some battles are better when over. For both sides. We are glad our battle is over. We don't need to fight anymore. There is no kingdom to be saved. No crown to be protected. The crown prince is dead now.
Remember what dreams smelt like? No you don't. We can't remember the dead. Look at you now. Ravaged by the hungry vultures, the only necklace becomes your noose.
You loved the crown prince for his flowing hair. When he raced the chariot down the sun. You loved him for his boisterous bouts in the drinking dens of the underground. You loved him when he braced his armour, when he kissed the edge of his sword and set out to bring you the most beautiful song-bird.
What happened then? Why did the ink on your letters dry so fast? What happened then?
In search of his songbird, did the crown prince invade many empires? Intoxicated with all the blood that had been spilled; raising battle cry even in the most peaceful kingdom. Lust. Courtesans. Wine. Gold. Horses. All the riches of the world at their feet. And the song-bird? Nowhere to be seen.
Or was it singing? When the crown prince licked amorous scents off the beauty's breast. When his lingam conquered one princess after another. When he woke up entangled in the black tresses of one queen, in the golden waistband of another. In curled up pain, the virgin princess had bled. Leaving him cold and dry. In the misty chill of the forest, the crown prince set out for his song-bird once again. But it was nowhere to be seen.
Or was it weeping? When the spears left gaping holes in human bodies. When bodies were dragged to the cremation grounds. When the wrong head was burnt with the wrong body. Some battles are better when over. The crown prince wants his song-bird.
Battered, raped, and ripped from head to toe. The unborn dead stares at his mother. The crown prince must go. Find his song-bird.
---
Where were you? Playing hide and seek in the corridors was just an excuse. He stole glances at you. Whenever you swayed down the hallway. With your anklets calling out for him. The foreigner stalked you, shamelessly. It pleased you to allow him. How did it feel? When the coarse straw ravaged your back, while he pounded like a beast on your naked body? Even the horses were aroused. How did it feel, when the bushes in the queens garden inadequately tried to hide your modesty? Where was he, when you dropped your robe one by one?
You knew he was watching. From behind the mango tree. While you stepped into the calm waters, you knew he would come. From behind. Furtively. Only the surface of water was disturbed. Nobody knew the maelstrom which it concealed.
Lovers are destined to die. It was an easy decision. The crown prince will return soon. And rip open your guts. Your heart will be preserved in the glass jars. It's too precious. The foreigner’s skin will be stuffed with dry straw and stitched back. Where shall we display him?
Everyone knows of forbidden love. It was an easy decision. Send out the hashashin. While the prince foolishly believed that you waited for your song-bird. It would be an easy kill.
The hashashin took 140 days and 140 nights to track the crown prince down. All the while, blood dripped down the edge of his sword. While you dripped wet with ecstasy. While nausea gripped him, the nausea of blood and rotting flesh. You smelt semen on your sheets. The hashashin lurked behind shadows. Waiting for his last kill.
---
As the unborn dead stared squarely at his mother’s face, the crown prince let his sword slip by. The sharp clank of metal was the end of a war. The song-bird chirped restlessly from its nest. The prince looked up. A poisoned arrow pierced his neck. Still watching the song-bird, the price felt his energy released. In a violent spasm. His lips dried under the sun. Smeared with blood and dirt. His flesh quivers as the flies begin settling in. Just a drop of water. Yes, that would make him feel better.
Defeated, the crown prince exhales his last breath. On the dust before his face. Blood dripping, drop drop on the battlefield. Lips dried under the sun. Coated with blood and dirt. His flesh quivers as the flies begin settling in. Just a drop of water. Yes, that would make him feel better. Remember how she brought him water? And brought him food and sat beside him while he rested his tired knees. Silently fanning, the sweat which evaporated leaving him cold.
Some battles are better when over. For both sides. We are glad our battle is over. We don't need to fight anymore. There is no kingdom to be saved. No crown to be protected. The crown prince is dead now.
Remember what dreams smelt like? No you don't. We can't remember the dead. Look at you now. Ravaged by the hungry vultures, the only necklace becomes your noose.
You loved the crown prince for his flowing hair. When he raced the chariot down the sun. You loved him for his boisterous bouts in the drinking dens of the underground. You loved him when he braced his armour, when he kissed the edge of his sword and set out to bring you the most beautiful song-bird.
What happened then? Why did the ink on your letters dry so fast? What happened then?
In search of his songbird, did the crown prince invade many empires? Intoxicated with all the blood that had been spilled; raising battle cry even in the most peaceful kingdom. Lust. Courtesans. Wine. Gold. Horses. All the riches of the world at their feet. And the song-bird? Nowhere to be seen.
Or was it singing? When the crown prince licked amorous scents off the beauty's breast. When his lingam conquered one princess after another. When he woke up entangled in the black tresses of one queen, in the golden waistband of another. In curled up pain, the virgin princess had bled. Leaving him cold and dry. In the misty chill of the forest, the crown prince set out for his song-bird once again. But it was nowhere to be seen.
Or was it weeping? When the spears left gaping holes in human bodies. When bodies were dragged to the cremation grounds. When the wrong head was burnt with the wrong body. Some battles are better when over. The crown prince wants his song-bird.
Battered, raped, and ripped from head to toe. The unborn dead stares at his mother. The crown prince must go. Find his song-bird.
---
Where were you? Playing hide and seek in the corridors was just an excuse. He stole glances at you. Whenever you swayed down the hallway. With your anklets calling out for him. The foreigner stalked you, shamelessly. It pleased you to allow him. How did it feel? When the coarse straw ravaged your back, while he pounded like a beast on your naked body? Even the horses were aroused. How did it feel, when the bushes in the queens garden inadequately tried to hide your modesty? Where was he, when you dropped your robe one by one?
You knew he was watching. From behind the mango tree. While you stepped into the calm waters, you knew he would come. From behind. Furtively. Only the surface of water was disturbed. Nobody knew the maelstrom which it concealed.
Lovers are destined to die. It was an easy decision. The crown prince will return soon. And rip open your guts. Your heart will be preserved in the glass jars. It's too precious. The foreigner’s skin will be stuffed with dry straw and stitched back. Where shall we display him?
Everyone knows of forbidden love. It was an easy decision. Send out the hashashin. While the prince foolishly believed that you waited for your song-bird. It would be an easy kill.
The hashashin took 140 days and 140 nights to track the crown prince down. All the while, blood dripped down the edge of his sword. While you dripped wet with ecstasy. While nausea gripped him, the nausea of blood and rotting flesh. You smelt semen on your sheets. The hashashin lurked behind shadows. Waiting for his last kill.
---
As the unborn dead stared squarely at his mother’s face, the crown prince let his sword slip by. The sharp clank of metal was the end of a war. The song-bird chirped restlessly from its nest. The prince looked up. A poisoned arrow pierced his neck. Still watching the song-bird, the price felt his energy released. In a violent spasm. His lips dried under the sun. Smeared with blood and dirt. His flesh quivers as the flies begin settling in. Just a drop of water. Yes, that would make him feel better.
Friday, September 4, 2009
Rest.In.Peace
Thus erupted the violent outrage,
giving way to the calm.
Giving way to the storm,
to the silent realm.
Of the mourner.
Of the dead.
Of the sinner.
And the ones afraid.
So rise my friend,
with reverence and heads bowed down.
Murmur your silent prayers,
and see if she's around.
Around my corpse,
around its shadow.
Near the closing walls,
or the lifeless window.
Don't let her burn my dead,
as she ever did before.
Silence her damned tongue,
before she creates a furor.
About my life,
about my death.
About my love,
my disgusting faith.
giving way to the calm.
Giving way to the storm,
to the silent realm.
Of the mourner.
Of the dead.
Of the sinner.
And the ones afraid.
So rise my friend,
with reverence and heads bowed down.
Murmur your silent prayers,
and see if she's around.
Around my corpse,
around its shadow.
Near the closing walls,
or the lifeless window.
Don't let her burn my dead,
as she ever did before.
Silence her damned tongue,
before she creates a furor.
About my life,
about my death.
About my love,
my disgusting faith.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Scarless
Its the end of a century
Its the end of war
Its the end of cyclical rains
And of silent scars.
Its the end of war
Its the end of cyclical rains
And of silent scars.
Unadulterated
Pure love, like anything else
Falls flat
Unused dysfunctional sense
Like pure gold.
You can't wear it.
Like pure iron.
You can't use it.
Like pure water
You just can't drink from it.
Falls flat
Unused dysfunctional sense
Like pure gold.
You can't wear it.
Like pure iron.
You can't use it.
Like pure water
You just can't drink from it.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Back Home
Its a long way outta here...
a long to go.
Its a long way back again babe,
long way back home...
But nevermind the time it takes
nevermind the load
even when dreams scream
a thirst too far fetched...
Don't forget to kiss my name,
on your lips,
when the milk in your eyes,
turn sour...
Coz I'm coming all the way,
Coming all alone
Coz there's just a single way ...
a one - way back home
a long to go.
Its a long way back again babe,
long way back home...
But nevermind the time it takes
nevermind the load
even when dreams scream
a thirst too far fetched...
Don't forget to kiss my name,
on your lips,
when the milk in your eyes,
turn sour...
Coz I'm coming all the way,
Coming all alone
Coz there's just a single way ...
a one - way back home
Monday, March 16, 2009
Toke
Babe, what’s wrong?
Down and out.
Away from my world.
What’s taking you so long?
Not a word heard
No e-mails sketched
Not a grimace
Ain’t no complaint left.
Is it all fine?
Or is it 69
Is it like old times?
With Vodka and lime.
Not a hand shaken
Not a nod
Not a wink
Not a promise taken
Is love angry
Or is it broke
Itch it a bit
C’mon let it poke.
Stroke Stoke Toke
Lemme hope
Somewhere to remember
Sometime to elope.
Down and out.
Away from my world.
What’s taking you so long?
Not a word heard
No e-mails sketched
Not a grimace
Ain’t no complaint left.
Is it all fine?
Or is it 69
Is it like old times?
With Vodka and lime.
Not a hand shaken
Not a nod
Not a wink
Not a promise taken
Is love angry
Or is it broke
Itch it a bit
C’mon let it poke.
Stroke Stoke Toke
Lemme hope
Somewhere to remember
Sometime to elope.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Monday, March 9, 2009
Acid
Do you think about me,
When the smoke raises its acid face?
A slap of water on your face,
When you dive.
Does it remind you of me?
When you down in deep distress…
A pungent gulp of whiskey,
slithering down your throat.
What did I taste like?
I can’t help but remember.
When dirty kids on streets
With faces black as the smoking tyre
Hauled from the garage, punctured…soggy
Warmth against penetrating cold
I can’t help but remember
A bite on the tip of my manhood
Chill against the tiring heat.
When the smoke raises its acid face?
A slap of water on your face,
When you dive.
Does it remind you of me?
When you down in deep distress…
A pungent gulp of whiskey,
slithering down your throat.
What did I taste like?
I can’t help but remember.
When dirty kids on streets
With faces black as the smoking tyre
Hauled from the garage, punctured…soggy
Warmth against penetrating cold
I can’t help but remember
A bite on the tip of my manhood
Chill against the tiring heat.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Cross questioning the basics.
If I am hanged,
Will you worship the noose?
If I am electrocuted,
Will you pray at the edge of the electric chair?
If I am executed with a lethal penetration,
Will you put the syringe on the altar?
Will you worship the noose?
If I am electrocuted,
Will you pray at the edge of the electric chair?
If I am executed with a lethal penetration,
Will you put the syringe on the altar?
Thursday, January 8, 2009
New Year, New Fear
As a new dawn is about to come,
Darkness too, is not far behind.
Then my addictions grew greater
Than the object I was to find.
If you knew it
You would agree
But desire is all you had
Lacked only capability.
This year starts bitter than ‘karela’
Lengthy slices bouncing on bubbling oil.
Turning blacker as each minute passed by.
Then she said, “You tasted caustic last night.”
Like leaves of ‘neem’ chewed raw, cleanse
I didn’t.
“I like ‘Karela’ ‘coz,” she opined.
“When I take a bite,”
“It reminds me of nothing”
“But only ‘karela’”, she replied.
“I think it’s the same with you”
You remind me of nothing but you.
Is the only thing I could add.
This year again
They selling patriotism
The same 42’s nationalism
Nothing else to believe.
Sin a song
Read the line again
Jana, gana what?
What was the line again?
Last night in my bed
I was scared to death
That if I’m a dickhead
There’s pubic hair on my head.
Such a narcissist I became
When I went to take a piss
As I held my dick in my hand
I got an erection, tough to miss.
Darkness too, is not far behind.
Then my addictions grew greater
Than the object I was to find.
If you knew it
You would agree
But desire is all you had
Lacked only capability.
This year starts bitter than ‘karela’
Lengthy slices bouncing on bubbling oil.
Turning blacker as each minute passed by.
Then she said, “You tasted caustic last night.”
Like leaves of ‘neem’ chewed raw, cleanse
I didn’t.
“I like ‘Karela’ ‘coz,” she opined.
“When I take a bite,”
“It reminds me of nothing”
“But only ‘karela’”, she replied.
“I think it’s the same with you”
You remind me of nothing but you.
Is the only thing I could add.
This year again
They selling patriotism
The same 42’s nationalism
Nothing else to believe.
Sin a song
Read the line again
Jana, gana what?
What was the line again?
Last night in my bed
I was scared to death
That if I’m a dickhead
There’s pubic hair on my head.
Such a narcissist I became
When I went to take a piss
As I held my dick in my hand
I got an erection, tough to miss.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Animals
মাঝরাত্রে কালো কুকুরের ক্যাটক্যাটে ক্যাকোফোনিতে
গোল্ডফিশ মাছগুলো টিউবলাইটের আলোতে লেজ গোটায়
কাজ বাড়বে বলে, খালি পেটে রোদ্দুর খায় বিড়াল
বক উড়বে বলে, গলা তুলে পাখা ছড়ায়
চার দিন ভেবে ভেবে
চার মিনিটে লেখা চারটি line
চৌকো বিছানায় পাশ ফিরে যাই
football field-এর চারপাশে পা ছড়াই
পাতার আড়ালে pendulum হওয়া পচা কুল
লাল টকটকে চোখে threat দেয়
লাফিয়ে যেন catch করবি তুই
যদি বলি মাথাটা আর শান্ত নয়
আমার মাছ আর আমি
চোখ খুলে রাত কাটাই
ঘোড়ার থেকে অনেক গুণ ভালোই
তা ভেবে একটু আধটু গাঁজা চেবাই
শুয়ারের হাগা খাওয়া জিভে
roast করা গরম মশলা
অদ্ভুত দিনগুলিকে
মনে করায়
গোল্ডফিশ মাছগুলো টিউবলাইটের আলোতে লেজ গোটায়
কাজ বাড়বে বলে, খালি পেটে রোদ্দুর খায় বিড়াল
বক উড়বে বলে, গলা তুলে পাখা ছড়ায়
চার দিন ভেবে ভেবে
চার মিনিটে লেখা চারটি line
চৌকো বিছানায় পাশ ফিরে যাই
football field-এর চারপাশে পা ছড়াই
পাতার আড়ালে pendulum হওয়া পচা কুল
লাল টকটকে চোখে threat দেয়
লাফিয়ে যেন catch করবি তুই
যদি বলি মাথাটা আর শান্ত নয়
আমার মাছ আর আমি
চোখ খুলে রাত কাটাই
ঘোড়ার থেকে অনেক গুণ ভালোই
তা ভেবে একটু আধটু গাঁজা চেবাই
শুয়ারের হাগা খাওয়া জিভে
roast করা গরম মশলা
অদ্ভুত দিনগুলিকে
মনে করায়
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