Somoshree Palit
She glanced upon his face
For Cupid’s manna-dew
Sweet blossoms in their blush
Blooming fresh and new
But there on his moist brows
Her pansied eyes beheld
An agonized pacifism
A violent smile that yelled.
A laboratory of science, plain and white
Anxious vicious forms, some nervous laugh
Bending over a foundation of fright
As sobbing eyes pleaded, “Enough, enough!”
A million mouths, gaping, wires and stuff:
Those flesh were subjects, unable to fend
The fate of a nation unaware of it’s end.
A joyful contraption of a frenzied joy
Parade down a land, a land bare and brown.
Nightly howls — wintry dogs chewing a toy :
A soft white limb for which Hunger sat down.
Gobbled limbs with dogs, a cannibal frown
Crossed his face. Was that food, or some skin
That killed him, his poems, and the pulse within?
She glanced upon his face
For starry climes of night,
Marble Gods of Rome
The burning Northern light.
But on his deep repose
Where the altar raised so high,
She saw her lucent rays
Weep his urge to die.
The ruins of a graph in lolling flames arose,
Little humans, un-pragmatic, and all
All lamps of art, unpractical, were to close —
Too catastrophic a rise, defined to fall.
Survival’s an unmitigated call.
Where homage to Ianthe is a harlot’s dream
There is no Lucy, but her violated scream.
When all forms of love, faith, hope and art
Discarded, dejected, deflowered and dead
Rise from their graves, flesh and bones apart,
Would you answer, in lieu of all wine and bread?
Would you then leave your ‘practical’ silken bed,
Stare the murdered in their eyes, say you thrive,
Say, animals never needed songs to survive?
The shamed Gods in skies
Turned away in fear
Selene of the shining night
Kissed her lover dear.
The world shut in sleep
Night palled their eyes,
Bedewed the auburn curls
Of gagged Endymion’s cries.