so continues the month of July

The leaves are gone from the trees
The birds have broken free
Our glasses are empty
The boots are marching towards us
and the dogs are barking

So what?
We are ready to grow old together
all this madness shall be over

0000000000000000
it is so easy.
sometimes I found
happiness
in chewing
fried pumpkin seeds.
and why unhappy at all??
000000000000000000
 cried a river
with a damaged liver
seeing the sun
protesting to not fall off
the cliff of Langol hill
and now the darkness,
you call night,
has come
and many fake warriors
have arrived
with their own revolutions
but with stars that twinkle
making fun of my torn trousers
left hanging on the Polangkhok
,,my sun will rise
that will bring a plate of rice
and when i am full
I kill people in my poems

July

we stood in a long ATM queue
then we got talking of things
he was a middle aged man
in a hat from Operation Daybreak.

he whispered "if you have anyone
who will be interested to be an agent,
let me know"
I thought of IB agent.

then I left thanking him.
later i looked at his visiting card.
he was an agent, LIC agent. 
-------
Oh July!
you rain on me again tonight
You still remember Thangjam Manorama
and the night of July she was picked up
from her house by 17th Assam Rifles
to rape and murder..
Do you think you can wash that memory?
Do you think you can wash away the 23rd of July
from BT Road's memories?
Do you think you can cloth the mothers?
Do you think you can extinguish the fire on Chittaranjan's body?
It is too late
You bring only memories
to haunt a helpless man's sleepless nights
----------
July is a lie
To the roses waiting for butterflies
But for the frogs
It is everything they dream of..
I heard one of them in my garden
Croaking and rhyming;
"How silly are your thoughts
Just like the toad
I once was, oh folks!
Don't you know its monsoon?
You dont need to water the Khongdrum"
--------------
When Mr President was about to come
They hit me abusing my moustache
telling me i have not done anything good
When there was a fire at Thangal Bazar
They hit me again for no reason
And when is the next time?
I am waiting eagerly to derive a poem,
as folks say everything happens three times