‘I’ll tell you all the news

the ocean froths In the empty ghada

a Shrill whisper rises 

Like piss in the stream 
The fawda picks away at the clod
Darknesses converge 

Upon the decaying carcasses 

The dead stink 

Louder than blasphemies 

In the sacred chamber 

And time, 

she laughs
The fawda picks away at the clod
Barbed wire angels 

Guard the arena of the mind 

Left brain right brain 

Left wing right wing

The blind man sees 

What nobody can 

Because he has vision 
The fawda picks away at the clod  
A shadow has fallen over the sky 

The hungry earth is stifled into silence 

Above the beating heart of stone 

Rises the three faced creature of the night 

Yelping fire, bloodless eye 

The bells toll.
They toll for you 

They toll for you. 
The fawda picks away at the clod 

  

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About teevramadhyam

'I became insane with long intervals of horrible sanity' -Poe
This entry was posted in #poemaday, Atyachar, community, Could be verse, Gothamisation, hmmm, I want to ride my bicycle, It is written, middle class mithya, night, One Bad Day, picture abhi baaki hain mere dost, poetry, why? and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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