The Dreamy Dreamland Drama’s Table. - Poem by Subrata Ray
Age has its language,
From youth to succeeding phase,
The body speaks them,
The heart swells and breaks.
Sex evokes blind storm, and shock
It breaks the bridal-wed-lock.
The Nature, Instincts, communion,
For existence’s perpetuations,
A ferry –boat’s lease,
Heart’s warmth and freeze.
From morn to eve, and eve to morn,
Sense’s appetite, pleasure and scorn.
You Tom, Harry Dick the impulse’s slave, hear?
Becoming minion to your carnal lust, the shadow you bear.
And in your cobweb you get trapped and deprecate,
In a self built hell, you with your Being are separate.
Go will Youth, the desire melting heat,
With memories longing flick,
With suspense –shroud, fir a dry depart.
Pitiless-passions’ pertained sore,
In an old body, frustrated roar,
The spent –path, towards a mirage,
The scrap-car, in a morgue –garage.
Neither consumption, nor burning,
No temptation, no-illusion’s earning,
If is overpowered by wholesome-calm,
That would be life’s renunciation’s sum.
The scorpion –born mind, drags the life soul,
In life and death, and death and life cycle,
The self remains frustrated in –imagination’s smoke,
The clever- fool, runs with his Ego’s flag.
What is life? Feast of the sensitive organs!
In Eye’s trap, Mind likes a trained dove,
Catches prey, creates and recreates, vain boast.
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