Friday, October 17, 2008

Did you spend a night?



(Art courtesy Shriparna Sarkar. A friend, an artist and an ordinary oddball)



Man

At arms distance,
my spirit waves its
hand to you

***

The clown
licks his fake nose.
It is his Dylan's harmonica.

***

Man

Why do you hide in a clown,
on each night?
Do you think of old tales
and weep in your gin glass?

Look my spirits
wear new perfumes.
Smell with that red.

***

Girl

My clown is my disguise,
like your spirit.

My balms are for you.
to grow on you.

Why don't I see
the paint on your face?
smeared and wet.

The convalescences I cooked.
The massage I gave.
And,
the music I created.

Did not you spend a dark day?

***

Man

The blue light
shimmered on your tuna.
Convalescence.

Our body ached of,
pain and perfume.
only once.
Massage.

You wept and laughed,
hiccups.
Music.


Did I trouble you,
in one cold December?
I never burnt those firewood.

Their fire crackers,
burnt my cigarette.
Their pitchers,
drowned my hash.

They were voyeurs.

***
Girl.

My ringmaster,
am I not strong a drug?
They search for me in dark alleys and brightly lighted chemist houses.
Smother and simmer.

I did tell them to do it.
Now,
I laugh and smirk with the pain of your
moonlit shadow.

This night is Guernica.

***

Man.

Lady of few words.

You can hear the night pass by,
with people tuning in
to the radio.
in camps which were restricted.

And,
you closed your eyes,
and fed the orange butterflies.
And the audience of the station,
spent their night with you.

Why did you still return,
to mix your broth into the gin
and drink it like the chalice water?

You were not made by the woodman
or the carpenter.

The night is younger,
the night burns.

***

Lady.

The words entangle,
with the pendulum.
They elude me,
like the clouds who eat the moon every night.
Like the fishes which jump and hang,
upside down on the water.

Don't you see me crying?
and yet I spent the night with you.

I'm my own spirit.
My attire is my ghost.
I burst out with my cocktail.
I danced to the fire, you
made with feathers and vodka.
I cooked the turkey.

And, I swept the blood on the couch.

***

Man

And, still I say.

.........

5 comments:

Sulakshana said...

oshadharon!

Amri_Moo said...

It's getting way to monotonous!


Brilliant!=)


Are ye happy now? Jeez.

Debs said...

What be monotonous?

MAHI said...

just one word....
WOW!!!!!!
m speechless now!!

Debs said...

Ah! I'm honoured! :)