Arindam Banerjee, October 2013


the lofty waitress
burnt alive
near gaza
like joan of arc she was
in her own right
(asriah asriah)
how are you today
better than yesterday
better than the day before!!!

black mamba mouthed
langston’s muse
leopard heart
clad in blues
how are you today
better than yesterday
better than the day before!!!
dip dip tea bag
the thread’s still hanging
the cup is far from pink
tastes like saccharin

children with
legitimate smiles
are born to die
in bastard times

(asriyah asriyah)
Sweet pal of mine

do they have a ground below
do they have a sky above

(asriyah asriyah)

why in silence you seek refuge!
still there’s noise in your town
i swear in the name of your
radioactive toyhood
i swear
your sister’s are moaning
your brother’s are being slaughtered
your people are dying
are dying!

is genocide a question worth
answering asriyah!
they aren’t just yours
but also mine

they say
‘We shall Overcome’
but when!
when will we!
backwaters now
troubled waters
fresh water is
there is doom
there is death
there is decay
there is decay
how are you today
better than yesterday
better than the day before!!!
(better than ever more)


father craves for einstein
mother craves for a barbie
but a child is born

twenty three years later

he is craving sleep
she has a craving for sleep
for a poet is born

she is yelling at him
in vain
the pain of labor
her punctured ducts

he is accusing himself
in vain
the pepperoni pizzas
in physics drained half his wage
(insane insane)

here comes the protagonist

he talks less
so i assume he is dangerous

he isn’t a bookworm
i assume he is clever

he can hardly make ends meet
i assume he is a poet
he never rhymes
i assume he is post modern

even economics is based on assumptions
so i assume
he’s the outcome of
abnormal cell division
in his
mother’s foetus

he is the eternal dreamer
the eugene marchbanks
in quest of candida

his hairs are in fragments
like the palestinians in israel
that breeds in mind
the appalachian dulcimer
the chasm
the glorious opium
and the hazed kubla khan

his eyes are but
‘A Psalm Of Life’
like that of scarecrows
in which leans the
‘Hollow Men’

i assume
he is the one who will take
‘The Road Not Taken’

he is the one who will crave for
‘The Last Ride Together’

will seek
and kill
‘Porphyria’s Lover’

He is a windless
coldblooded oppressor
only in his kingdom of
pen and paper


Penetrate into the oblivion
Time we used to sing
The archaic songs of anarchy
Like two climbers criss-crossing each other
Embellishing our own swollen sovereignty
Identical in shape, size and mass
With an unvanquished fidelity
We used to sit by the drain
Unlike old lovers,
For our love was like a cannonball
Qualifying the metaphysical conceit.

Into the woods of haze
I was pedalling dreams
You were my training wheels
Barefooted on the fugitive past
Falling running and giggling away.

Neighbourhood now plays the gramophone
Of a fidelity unrestrained
What went wrong!
Bemused by this question!
Friend learn to remember not regret.
Once murmuring windows-muted
Brick lanes and water logged pavements
Now resonates our muffled laughter
For what I write today
Wasn’t right then.


Where do they come from?
Where do they go?
Paupers will never know
Meandering blonde lane
Eventually slants on the anonymous.
The anatomy of anonymity
Can be seen but
Can’t be read
Where ruby awaits the bride
Whilst Paupers wait for their trial
From budding tulips
Till swollen capsicums
Singing the songs of emancipation
The songs of renaissance
But for what fruit?
Is it a fruit or a leech in disguise!
That metamorphosed science
Into a Nemesis
Paupers will never know
The fruit of anonymity

Arindam Banerjee is currently pursuing his M.A in Linguistics
from the University Of Calcutta.He is passionate about music and
poetry. His poems were published in an anthology “The Poetic Bliss” in
the year 2012.

Promote. Poetry.
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