Priyanka Banerjee | Wednesday, 27 April 2022 | Print
You sleep and snore
When they burn up our huts
On the corpses
Rage and feverish hatred ruin our land,
Where once God whispered secrets of love
To the kissed Souls of beautiful damsels!
Burn the bridge
When We cease
Colours and lack of colours and bloody bloodshed ripped apart hearts!
Merge with queues,
Where infants die sucking up bottles of water.
No milk, only water!
They rape the sisters in front of their brothers.
No milk powder!
Fair skin and glittering blue eyes empower their lustful instincts to spit.
On naked skin!
You are silent
And you sleep and snore as it’s no anymore a Sin.
You don’t know what a child’s shriek means
To its prostitute mother.
You laugh and dream about winning the Universe!
But you don’t listen to their unuttered words of intense pain, too deep!
Boots define power structure.
Isn’t it a defeat, a failure?
An illusion, a crime, a bitter truth, a bloody Fracture?
The curves of naked bosom, the bites, the lacklustre fight –
You spice up your stories of triumph and utter need!
You don’t believe in sacrifice and solemn deeds –
You can write but fail to read
The lover’s broken mind that once aspired for a passionate kiss!
You sleep and snore –
And let me burn the Bridge
Challenging those bloodstained lips
That once Sucked up our Blood
You still love to Spit –
I resided within you,
I could hear
The sound of your shouts, shrieks and groanings,
When they forced themselves on you,
Hurting my soft body,
And denying my prenatal existence and my urges to play with the sun and the moon
And balloons and teddy bears!
Are teddy bears soft too
Like my hairless head?
I had moments of intense joy too
When I felt your touches,
Though there was the soothing barrier of skin
Between you and my elemental cells!
And your heartbeat lulled me to sleep,
While dreaming about stars!
Then suddenly they came
With their scissors, hot water,
And too much ruthlessness
Burnt up my heart!
I cried though I didn’t have any eyes then
And blood came out of my tiny structure of raw flesh!
” Throw it away! The Foetus! The burden !”
They said and I became insane!
Too much pain and intense pain
Turned me into a rebel,
Though I had left my tiny body then
And the beasts were smelling it –
I was turned into a floating foetus
Searching for my mother’s womb
Amidst infinite darkness an evaporating mist.
Do you still wait for my kicks and pine for the touches
Of my softest limbs
And I question my God
Again and again,
While floating in the world of silence
They cut off my throat
And repressed my voice forever!
The Foetus can never be as clever as they are.
And when the foetus dies,
The history of its journey –
Nobody cares for its longings, desires, dreams
And it’s urge for the solemn rise.
The Foetus dies
And the world celebrates its Demise,
The show must go on.
The dancers and the Beduins know how the secrets of Split hearts
Can negate the rhythm of the Earth!
The kisses on lips and those shadows of drops of rain
Can absorb the ruthless Cleopatra’s pain.
The setting sun spreads its hue over the Prison cells!
Even imprisonment can destroy the sterility of the Soul
That needs to be Resurrected!
Bodies become alive when souls get connected!
Between life and death, Love leads the show that amuses
Who stands as barrier
Between love and lovelessness!
passions triumph over the hollow
Structure of Power!
The sunkissed domes of the land of the mystic
aspire for more freedom
And the last shower!
Freedom of speech can smoothen the lips and the rocks of the domes!
Even the empire of Rome
Was built up at the cost of savage pain!
Rain, rain and more rain
Can soak up the warm bed of sand
Of the lost desert land!
Timelessness has been deconstructing the concept of Time –
Time is ripe for absorbing
a new amalgamation
That will breed a new phase of life,
Bringing the Past, the Present and the Future on one plane!
The Revolutionary can never be sane.
The verdict negates the concept of sanity and lust!
The colonies are no more spreading the virus!
They are no more ominous!
Black skin, black hair, black eyeballs
Can create a new brown earth
Where the rebels will paint again portraits of broken guns!
The savage man embraces his white woman!
Too much of love
Can turn the white skin into a tanned
The dancers sway their black waist
In a bid to find out the centre
Of the earth!
will oil come out at the cost of white bones?
Bones are always white –
No matter what.
Copyright @ Priyanka Banerjee
Posted 3:00 pm | Wednesday, 27 April 2022
globalpoetandpoetry.com | Faruk Ahmed Roni
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