In a salt desert
under the scorching sun's rays
I want to take a bath
in a white ivory tub
filled with thick, red blood
of rotten falcons and children
of lions and pigs.
Skeletons of dead trees
Skulls of dead newborns,
Dry umbilical chords
and the sound of bones being
crushed by an imp for pure pleasure
Deep fried brains
Rotten flesh and breasts of
beautiful dreams,
chopped finely into a dish of delicious
insomnia
- Lost hopes
sleep in a grave
peacefully with a cigarette
lit up at the left corner of
dark, rough, scarred
Beautiful lips
And there you are
Neena - in a bright scarlet gown,
Your glasses fixed meticulously upon
your long nose,
Decapitating freshly born babies
melting their umbilical chords in boiling acid
- Let there be many modest
proposals
I drown myself under the blood
The eagles will be flying in
the dun sky
What a beautiful life...
Souren Mondal
November 17,2015
Simultaneously ugly and attractive- -horrific, nightmarish images blend with an intelligent writing style. Your poem is peppered with some truly poetic phrases. I like the line about the resting-place of lost hopes, and think it shows tremendous imagination.
You showed your gallantry to use some awesome imageries to depict the hard core truth of life perhaps of yours in this case, but this leads us to a naked truth of human's humanity of how it is being violated by human minds. One should praise you for the aesthetic and poetic beauty you portrayed so exquisitely and perfectly out of heartfelt horror and pointed pians.
I read it once again today and feel obliged to say I liked it twice as much as the first time I did.It reminded me of how Henry Miller became a writer.When he was 18 he visited a phsychiater and talking about the peculier dreams he had he got the advice to write them down for the doctor to use them as a means to understand his mendal problems.Himself Miller have recognized it as the beginning of his career as a writer.//Your poem here, dear Souren, shows that you can trust your own imagination even if not under the influence of any medicament, You can go far ahead than the medicaments may lead you.Sometimes under our sufferings we can see the reality of the world better than unde a normal usual uninteresting life.Go on and paint life's scenes through the abyss of our complex conscience.Take the point of view different personalities could take and write in the third person or even the first declaring your new identity so that the reader does not identify you[Souren Mondal, the poet] with the person relating in the verses....
Melting their umbilical chords in boiling acid. These are deeply disturbing images. Horrific and akin to the most violent of nightmares. The reader almost covers his eyes as he approaches each next phrase.... But that is only almost. Like the cliche says no one can stop from watching a train derail. This poem is beautifully disgusting and offensive (if that combination of words can even make sense) . You display an imagination capable of envisioning even the very things we try hardest to shield our imaginations from. Yes the images are undeniably awful, but that is quite clearly the point. Your intent, you've said, was to express the ugliness of the world beautifully. You have succeeded entirely. Magnificent
Thank you Mike.. The poem has an interesting story behind it.. It was written at a time when I was diagnosed with Major Depression and anxiety.. I was on antidepressants, different ones were tried, you know, to find which one will work.. There were three different ones - at the beginning I was on Escitilopram, something mild, and then damn-it-all Prozac! ! Both of them didn't work, and I was then put on Venlafaxine.. What happens, or maybe better to say what happened to me personally, when these meds were rotated is that I started to have more lucid dreams.. They felt like absolute reality., And one of those dreams/nightmares was the things said in the poem.. It began to hurt me ever so badly.. I would be almost awake and yet would not be able to get up until I would see the whole thing (maybe sleep paralysis? I don't know) ... I had no clue what to do.. So, one November night.. I am sure that would be the night of the 17th when the poem is written.. I saw this 'dream' six times.. I threw up in the bed.. It was pathetic.. I had no strength to even get myself away from my own puke.. I just remained in the bed, fell asleep again (sleeping pills are crazy, they throw you to sleep even if you wake up) ... The cycle continued throughout the night, and in the morning, I was like a zombie.. My mum told me that I was looking horrible.. The bed was stinking.. It was so pathetic.. And after I cleaned up, I sat at my bed, and scribbled this.. I did not think about the words, or how to write at all.. I just wrote, that too, at the back of a small pamphelt... A lot of people often ask me what does this poem mean? ? I never really have an answer for it.. But what I can say, Mike, is that this is just a 'view' inside the 'beautiful life' I had when I was depressed... The ghost or Neena, never really left me, until I was haunted, and hanunted to almost extinction.. This poem, however, was one that led to a path of recovery.. I never had the nightmare after I wrote this.. And for the first 42 odd poems published here.. It was all because I needed ro either write or lose it... I became a poet because my psychiatrist said so! ! !
Poetry needs the courage you show here Souren. The courage to bring to light the bitter truth.Even in imagery to abhor.
This poem might be taken as a satire on life. Its title is intentionally ironical. Life presented in gross images. We have often read the glorification of life, the ideal picture. But there is another side to life that is depicted here. A dark picture...it takes guts to write like this. Well done Mondal.10
Thank you Nosheen.. I never mind writing about the dark side.. It is something we don't talk about, but we MUST...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
this poem is a little scary, sorry to say, but the caption and the contents seemed contradictory - though u have successfully envisioned the depression and maintained horror throughout - kudos to your different style of writing - enjoyed reading!
Thank you for reading Kavya. As I have said below, the intention is to find beauty in the terrible! There's always a scope to do such a thing.. Thanks for reading my poem. I will surely return the favour soon :)