Pinaki Dewan

Veteran Poet - 1,452 Points (24-09-1997 / India)

Detachments - Poem by Pinaki Dewan

between the ocean and your open vein *


we wake we see we touch
and eventually become tired
of things that don't please us

the sky that formed fond memories with clouds
now echoes the emptiness of the scavenging heart
the hesitations that occluded the mouth
now quail and the exasperations burst
the squirming victim and the recaliation
the tethered gitim and the equivocation
nothing arrests the legs anymore
they flow like a perpetual river towards a sea
that has nothing to do with defeat or victory

we who are beautiful
we who are skilled
we who are strong
depend for our splendour
on those who are ugly
those who are inept
those who are weak
what is light without darkness
what is fame without neglect
o' demons
you who prowl the gardens
never knowing the stars
you who creep up from the crevices
and dribble from the scars
tell me how must you
the burning wounds lick
you who have known
neither dungeon nor attic
why do you smile when you know nothing
why do you come when you bring nothing
is it to soothe your meaninglessness
to soothe the ego of the soul
there are no differences in the flesh
lifelessness is the same everywhere
the alive is alive for it is different
the alive is distinct for it is new
but new soon falls into cliché
and it is the same everywhere


borrow her contradictions and pay your debts with tears
as you walk to the forest end you shall find your fingernails healed
you may dig the river bed are you hopeful are you afraid
where will your fears take you will your hopes be sealed
as the concealed breast is unearthed as the true pain is revealed
will you be afraid
will the interminable digression be settled once and for all

the night wakes up under your bed
you have to pee you can't think
run run run to the toilet
wash your hands in the sink

the night draws its shawl about it as it speaks **
of rivers and droughts and molten wax it reeks
and you listen to it as if your grandfather
was telling you tales of his childhood
of his unrequited hopes of his fantasies
as intently as a revenant chases his victims

the poufy gambit falls from the oak tree
the oeillades of the leaves decree
life's meaning hangs from the window
the girl's snapped neck rests on
her crimson eyes indifferent though
to the father's silhouette scragged inside
no kinship anymore hearts of iron
it is for the better they died

the gambit gets up as the starling espies
shags to the corpse and dies


feathered fury that reaches out again and again to its root
only reaches its decaying summit
sighing to the wind that extends no consolation
rather confabulates interpolations
that blow it higher above to the dispute
as it is provoked and choked at the same time
is it of any benefit to descry the decrepit
but nothing is heard nothing is ever heard by anyone
except the scabrous fumes of the crime
after all is said and done
labyrinthine lust that wishes to shoot the brute
and diddle the two-dimensional drawings bewitching cute
where is the oedipal child in this flagitious route
do you see the truth do you see doctor the t ruth
bent down at the grave with nothing to save
not anymore and the pride of the ash
and the thickness of the stash
lets everyone forget
for death
is not

present day present time *
hahaha hahaha
where did happen the crime
lalala lalala

she has this look makes me a crook
cannot steal her heart
but my fingers come apart
as i hand her my book
of poems of course what else can i indite
either way it is alright
she only needs to smile
i only need to see her smile
and i will be alright a while

love poems are a joke
they just convoke
emotions that mean nothing
that just bring
a man to his convulsing knees
a damn disease

as if serious poems
lift him pick him up lol


the hedgehogs have invented formulae
practiced geometry so their quills
will pass through and not hamper
their want of warmth
sadly now their skins have swelled
and their insides have burnt
and they look worse than corpses
they look like scholarly literate corpses


these suddenly savage suddenly gentle masterings of the verse **
i apologize for my curse
but let it be for it is a discourse unlike any other
it is a discourse that will bother
the senseless and the sensible alike
it is ludicrous errant irrelevant
as it is grave pensive and arcane
one needs to commit to wishful thinking
to arrive at something genuine
what is significant today will be insignificant tomorrow
what is insignificant might be significant someday
what we do is but a scratch on the surface
everything deep has already been done
and perhaps we will arrive there nevermore
and so i chase the chill that sends shivers
down my spine the gooseflesh that delivers
there need not be any purpose to what we do
there need not be a reason
but these shall never be treason
to the soul and to the examination of the soul
what is part might someday be the whole
as what was whole has become but a part
there is no distinct poetry of the brain and the heart
what suits the heart suits the brain
what suits the brain suits the heart
whether it's a bloodstain or the scarlet rain
whether it's philosophy or just art
these shall never cause either to depart
all shall be accepted equally
for it is but one psyche
various facets perhaps
perhaps a lot of gaps
but nothing so large
as to cause a discharge

Topic(s) of this poem: philosophical , psychological, writing

Form: Free Verse

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Poem Submitted: Monday, October 29, 2018

Poem Edited: Friday, November 2, 2018

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