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, December 11, 2008


(In memory of the soldiers who passed away in India's 9/11


Morning meanders in the breeze
like the crystal tongue of a thirsty serpent

I can't quite confess,
that this is my next poem........

not that I hate poetry of late
nor have I given up writing

but when parasites peck at your existence
silent bells toll in empty churchyards
and wet voices cry for a rebellion

poems become a bit too inconsequential.......


An asphalt dream wakes me up
on a cold January morning

the lines are always fake
between truth and transparency

each dawn is a bringer
of false promises

and the moon,despite her silence
at times,has a story to tell


Three days have passed
since the occult movie first began

channel-surfing on the television,
the news of a sudden genocide hits me

newspaper headlines hardly change daily!


Night has a soft hunger
that is also found in the plasma
of werewolves and whores

Tell me,
don't you gain a strange sadistic pleasure
when you ransack a grasshopper
and pull out its testicles?

some guys have a mandate to murder
even in the name of religion!

and sometimes,
protectors are the worst offenders!


A winter day finally breaks
into a mock peace and silence

(I fear that the clocks have melted)

They tell me,
the war has ended, at last
but another one has just begun


Every good orator is a potent politician

They spoke till they spat
and thought words would conquer all

How long will democracies
be just an excuse for paying taxes?

and does our anthem never remind you
of fractured pride and false promises?


Nothing perhaps is as frustrating as
waiting for a phone call the entire evening
when the phone never actually rings..........

man, sometimes, is just too obsessed
with sex or his solicitor

stock markets are more unpredictable now
than the cloud laden Kolkata skyline

and with corporate sectors
fast closing down

our very own backyards are often plaqued,
these days, by young, jobless assassins


I remember last Christmas
when we all held hands
as we sang our carols

my dear enemies,
the time for petty catfights has long been over!

my conscience frozen,
my defenses ransomed,
I writhe in my inner civil war

(every masked man has a face inside)

and he who never ever complains,
never ever really understands......


There are times I wonder
if bribery is anything better
than legal burglary

does the elite still take refuge
in its pamphlet of secret lust
and forgotten lies?

my temples throb,
and even rock songs sound a bit sore tonight!

may be,
some questions are best left unanswered......


A rush of adrenaline drags me out
of my winding reveries

I realize its time to hide
in the disguise of my mask once again!

I hope I hadn't been dreaming......

for the reality,
can only be even more shocking!!!