And We are never Late for the occasion
as you know we are not talking of cultivation
which you claimed as your childhood profession
And Words are not enough as you know
for the sleepy eyes
We must make them open
or we must make them go Blind.
And your Voluminous Poems will do it
but not by keeping it for me or you to read out
when we are dosed with Whiskey
but to recite it at Oinam Bazar
To recite it at Kangla GAte
To read out at Ema Keithel
to Recite it at Shiroi Hills
to Cry it out loud at Loktak.
For the Other patriots
Who celebrate counting widows
I just see them peeping into my windows
to hear my father counting his hard earned Money,
They are not patriots
they are parrots
of the cheapest kind
which utter what ever they have seen
which mimic badly their fathers
We must not die cheaply in their bullets
3 comments:
Again, I thought of someone
In his image, I dug graves, asking
Many a common questions, like
Who else, who else amd
Why we?
But sometimes, I forget
We have many more like you!
dear fren i dont quite understand u..may thats y we are frens :)
our dream to hav a poetry journal is shaping well.
the day you got to understand me, you too will say, i am pretending. this is the way of the world. sorry. you are different. sometimes, we need to hide ourselves from our demeaning sights.
keep the good work. many more will join us, for their own good.
Post a Comment