Messages Of Distortion Poem by Prateep Sengupta

Time and again the tedious roads
Prince of Denmark treads
Caught in the whirlwind of confusion and faith
The haunting spectre fear breeds.

Fits of somnambulism gradually on rise
Sending signals of decaying health
To clean the stains of blood,
In every heart
A Lady Macbeth desperately tries.

Lascivious Gertrude with Claudius sleeps,
Rotten heart prepares the brain for a stroke
Uprooted heroism in corner decays
The Prince cannot go beyond
His heroism unreported goes.

The hired poets sing of decay
Gertrude, they idealize,
The Prince despised.
Time is made to halt at six o’clock
All the birds of prey
Around the rotten bodies flock.
Prometheus, in every age, is tied.
He should not explore further for light
Beyond the captivated horizon
Of lust and violence,
Of death and greed.
This is all the hired poets need.

Collective conscience is anaesthetized
Moral being is numb,
All the protests dumb
The persona should not speak,
It should not explore beyond
What it is allowed to hear and see.
Any search beyond lust and greed,
Must come to a halt.
It should not make others see
It should not make others hear
It should itself never feel
Fresh thoughts and syllables new
Words of doubt should not be whispered
That is how the system is served.

Soul not to transcend death,
Prometheus not to search for fire
Light is never to be discovered,
Life is never to be recovered.
Unless Death is projected as the final end
Distorted messages cannot be sent.