Inside the puddingland


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MySpace Graphics Your kiss spins like a dice in the night air and finds a shelter in the naked geometry of my face. - For R

Thursday, August 28, 2008

Bones and bullets




from the slums of Calcutta

to the towers of California



there are only the cosmopolitan cries

of beggars and bastards



and the clock is ever counting

on the third flank of Waterloo



in my city of bones and bullets

warships wreck the winds



and astronomy dangles

from frozen clock hands almost everyday



the messiah comes at midnight

to build an island of false promises



and the vermillion rings of Esplanade

are an unscripted altar

for bandhs and bull-fights



not every man

is a poet or a politician

but the epics need one badly



every hermit

is a hooligan at heart



Caesar or Hitler

no longer humble me

and Mozart or Milton

humour me no more



for blood is the latest calligraphy

on cyber cenotaphs



I search for a place

to hide my history of nuclear robberies



from the breathlessness of New York

to the pacelessness of Nandigram



there are only the sickening scowls

of unicorns and eunuchs



and the clock is ever ticking

even on the mantelpiece

of your drawing room


3 comments:

Srayan said...

Its A Marvelous Piece of Writing which is a very big achievement in such an age........



I wish u all the luck in future.....

Debs said...

Well crafted, but make sure you do not get too monotonous in run of the poem. And, there's a new one in my blog. Un-pictured though.

Deeptesh said...

Deeptesh@Debanjanda,

Dude your 'monotonous' sounded a bit vague!You will do well to be more specific.