AtreyaSarma Uppaluri

Femmes Fatales

I am smothered
By a horde of females.
The succubi are infatuated with me.
They come at me
And unite with me
Blood to blood.

I lose my senses
And collapse

“Let’s ready a cauldron
Half full with pungent oil
Over a furnace
Stoked by
A hundred firewood trunks, ”
A drone of voices I hear.

“Yes, it’s all now ready
The boiling bubbles are spluttering
And fumes are shooting up
Driving black holes
Into the dark sky, ”
Confirms a wave of their friends.

“Now let us hurl this devil
Into the burning oil, ”
Fumes a horde.

“Let him suffer
Let him cry out in agony
Let his skin peel off
Let the gore from under
Mix and curdle
With the blood from his eyes
And from his entrails, ”
Curses a cloud of their ilk.

“He has turned into invisible ash
Has simply vanished
Into his stanching soul, ”
Announce the undertakers.

“Let’s not let
His bloody soul away.
We’ll enchain it
And force it
Into a new body
And suck and roast him
For a thousand lives, ”
Pronounced is the verdict.

It’s so agonising
So writhing
I become numb;
Traces of consciousness
Lingered on, though.

“Why this horrendous punishment? ”
My aphonic voice demurs.

“You stalked us
Hounded us
Sought us out
In every nook
In every cranny
When we
The simple
Frail female folk
Were alive and kicking, ”
A drove bares my criminal past.

You batted us
You battered us
And you swatted us
In millions
To death.
Nothing less than
Bride-burning on a mass scale!
Curse you!
Damn you!
You massacred us
The petite ones
It was ghastly genocide, ”
Blasts out a swarm.

“But you know fellows
You the succubi
Were haunting me
Were sucking my blood
Were killing my comfort
Were destroying my sleep.
You were spreading fatal diseases
Among us the noble race, ”
I whine feebly.

“How can we survive
Without your blood?
It’s our only food.
We mean it
We say it
We do it, ”
So a bevy poses
A rhetorical question
And answers it too.

“But you the noble racists talk big
And you philosophise:
‘Life is here, life is there
All life is equal
All life is one
All life is Brahman, ’”
So pin-pricks another giggle.

“Still you butchered us
For your little comforts, ”
Rasps another group.

“You should suffer
A thousand lives
For genocide…, ”
Curses another throng.

“…and a thousand more
For your hypocrisy, ”
The huge population
In chorus
Bores into
What I feel are my ears.

From my disembowelled
Heart and stomach
Blood gushes forth
Into my splitting eye balls
And turns into tears;
Evaporate the drops
Much before
Raining to the ground.

I go mad
I am shattered
The prospect is horrendous:
“I’m yet to undergo
One thousand
Nine hundred
And ninety nine
Terms of torturous
Capital punishment, ”
I wail helplessly.

“The more you decimate us
The more we’ll proliferate;
Our race could even
Outlive yours;
May your tribe learn this lesson, ”
They gave out
Their deafening prophesy
In a deadening unison.

“Hahhaa… hahhaa
Hahhaa… hahhaa, ”
They have the last laugh
In a soul shattering cacophony.

[Mar 15,2009: : Hyderabad - 500 056]

Poem Submitted: Monday, April 6, 2009
Poem Edited: Tuesday, October 6, 2009

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Comments about Femmes Fatales by AtreyaSarma Uppaluri

  • Lonnie Hicks (10/12/2009 12:06:00 PM)

    Wow, this is simply tremendous Atreyasarma. I think you have tremendous talent. Now to the details. First, you have chosen poetic language and style that is great and move the piece to the mythic level while retaining its very central concentration upon what is happening to women. Second is the passion here is a recitation of the history of a relationship. Third is Karmic justice is being proposed here and anger and suffering. It makes for a powerful mix. I have done something similar in 'The Gospel According to Lilith. You have made an epic poem in the manner of Homer. Great 10

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