Dead Wires
Jodha Chandra Sanasam *
Alphabetical characters
on your pages
have taken the visage
of sooty coloured excreta
just like the haemorrhaging blood
from the bleeding heart
in a distorted colour of murky sludge;
or maybe more like the torrent of rain water
darkened by the mixture with the black dust
that burst out
from the dried funfus-nestled reeds,
of the stomach’s acidic residue.
There were expectations
for some sparks
from the electro-magnetic waves
generated by the live-wire ends
that entwine in the human brian.
But the half-erupted sparks
got extinguished themselves
At the wire ends
wrapped by fungus-cobweb.
The eyes, wide-open to clean the wire ends
got strained with prolonged glare,
got reddened burning sore
the eyes, stung with hot tears.
Oh! Morning papers!
So unfortunate you are
You appear like sheets
smeared thick all over with malaenic excreta.
The populace of the land, more unfortunate,
are swallowing the pollute-smeared alphabets
welcoming the savour enticing nosh, apparent.
The bunches of savoury stories
with their lovely fragrance,
buried deep underneath the soil,
seem to be beyond the reach
of the olfactory wires
buried in the nose
just below the skull;
left as dead wires
that fail to transmit the electrical power;
yes, left as dead wires.
* Poem written by Prof Jodha Chandra Sanasam for Hueiyen Lanpao (English Edition)
This poem was webcasted on November 23, 2014.
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