The Coffee House Poem by Vishnudev Murikkanattil

Four men met there,
They sipped a tea from.
They snapped the green shot.
An engine vomited
It's black smoke.
The ray paved way-
Through River.
It shone as nothing new.
A boy whirled to the pond.
It's not a ‘player' to 'backward'.
Pebbles circled the drops
As men do.
The four men were off
The Shop.

The man who sipped
It at once,
Went to the sparkle shine.
He made blood sweat.
His axe lead the
Orchestra of the whole
Life there.
He had a pudding at noon
Where his black boy with
Flowing nose, gripped his
Mother's hand.
The man's wife was starved,
Where her clavicles were
'S' shaped as no flesh.

The man who sipped it
Slowly went through the journals.
And ran the bulging eyes,
Through the printed words.
He had a bag - a sack -
Which suits better,
That smelled as no water
Nor perfume passed the way.
He was a bachelor.
His black ink laid
The alphabets on the white sheet.
His fingers massaged
His growing beard.
His creative -
Run through the lines.
For him, he read it
Many a time.
He had a photo - his -
That had to be said first.
With a white background
That flashed in weeklies
And snapped by cameras.

The man who came
The coffee house jogging -
I mean, the man who sipped
It from the dish below the cup
Went with his laptop in lap,
Rushing the six fingers,
Through the print less, type
More key board.
He ‘tweeted' face to ‘face'
And chatted through the mails.
His door was opened by
The guards, and he
Stepped the Heaven high tower.
He was warmed with ‘mornings';
With salutes that sometimes
Darted as the Guard's spit
For the boss.
He sat, not on the floor,
In his ‘diwan'
He talked men to men
As he was as high
‘Not as God - I excuse.
He rotates in his
Revolving chair. He sips
The tea then too.
He signed and sealed
In docs that kept
Off and on the rules.
He has a wife who
Was as a pumpkin shape.


The man who sipped it
Hearing the ear phone
Went to the road,
Where he wandered through
The Road.
He gave no rest from
His caller phone, as
Instant messages blossomed
The sweetheart's heart.
He walked as legs are no fit,
Walked as the Earth is not
Enough for him to ride,
He rides the bike,
As no one else knows it.
He pics the blood filled
Life; he set the video
On, while
A man beats to death.

The four men met there,
The next day,
They sipped the tea,
At once;
Slowly,
Through the dish,
Hearing the earphone
With no more or less
Differing from the
Whole men sorry -
The modern human.