Bijay Kant Dubey Poems

He is a daru man
As keep he the bottle of daru
With him
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The grammar of poetry, where is it,
You say it to me,
In rhetoric and prosody
And its hard and fast rules,
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Love-songs are for whistling and humming,
Not for singing loud,
In a full-throated voice,
You just feel about,
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Bar dancer, society extracts the all that is good in you,
Extracts and dumps you elsewhere
Taking out the all that is good in you,
First, tempting you,
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How will be it, my death?
I just think about.

Can you say it, friend?

Only one thing that I know it is this that
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Save the poor girl child of India,
Do not sell them,
Save them, save them
From being the load of a patriarchal society,
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O potter, give me some clay
So that I may make, make and re-make my dead mother,
Collecting the earth
From there, where burnt I her one day!
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Communists are power-hungry,
Blood-thirsty people,
Goondaism, bossism and politicking,
The three things of the party,
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What it is in the department,
The academia and the academies
And the people academic,
Followed by a dull and routinized affair,
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