Sonnet To Weird Verma

Your Fellini-esque dreamscape pulls me out of the stereotype box.
Behind me, I hear Dylan's psychedelic guitar and Lynch's knocks
on the consciousness-door. Kafka sits with a smile on the dinner
table beckoning me to eat your delicious words, infinite winners
in the test of time. Life is absurd. Life is paradox. Life imitates art
more than art imitates life, says Wilde. Then, you do your part
creating the best kind of art. The kind of art that frees the soul
from the shackles of the world. Where imagination truly unfolds
into the unexpected and original. Where fancy becomes greatness.
And I, your weird friend, Weird Verma, cannot very humbly express
how delighted I am to see a real poet like you here in this clichéd mess
of words and stolen quotes. Keep showering us with your uniqueness,
that is the best I can say. May we meet someday in some corner dark yet
illuminated and discuss the visions and illusions that turned us into prophets.

-

To See

The bareness of a dream
as it converges into the threshold

of an interrupting sound is bonier
than your silence. Like a scroll

you unfurl your cliché secrets but
the treasure is already lost in your eyes.

Your laughter puts down the world
and crushes its kindnesses into delirium.

Somewhere the pain blooms and it's not
a flower or a memory, just ignorance.

May you recognize the odours of lost time.
May they suffocate your destiny

until it learns to breathe. May the fish
find its water. Every touch evaporates

anyway like your consolations.
Lips are frail brands. Experience

squeezes the skin clean. The fire taunts
the ash. The ash haunts the fire.

And nothing comes to a resolution
except the beauty of fitting a shoe.

-

(Based on the first phase of Lockdown)
অবনী বাড়ি আছো? (২০২০)

জানালার ধারে সন্ত্রস্ত চোখ,
ভীত দোদুল্যমান জনতা,
ভয় পায় কাছে আসতে, খোশগল্প করতে,
রাস্তায় চোখে পরে কিছু পরিচিত মুখ;
প্রশ্ন করে মন-"অবনী বাড়ি আছো? "

গৃহবন্দী মানুষ, গৃহবন্দী কর্মক্ষেত্র;
বাজার উঠেছে পাটে সেই কবে;
বসন্ত উৎসব ছিল শেষ সম্মেলন;
দোকান এখন বাড়িতে বাড়িতে,
এই মুদ্রাস্ফীত অনাহারের ভিড়ে
ফোনের ওপার থেকে ভেসে আসে-
"অবনী বাড়ি আছো? "

বন্ধ যোগাযোগ, বন্ধ পরিবহন;
সব যাত্রাই এখন অযাত্রা;
উত্তপ্ত স্টেশন, ফাঁকা এয়ারপোর্ট,
Notification এ আর্তনাদ ভেসে আসে-
"অবনী বাড়ি আছো? "

-

A Denial

the cold winter sunshine can't cure this thirst for pain
i breathe in deep before screaming like kurt cobain
my dark room is filled with the smell of burnt cocaine
i'm certain even the joker didn't find his hurt so vain
outside the junkie is selling his balmain t-shirt for ten
his torn shoes are soaked with the mud and dirt of rain
i look at my own blood dyeing my vest so worth the stain
whoever said i'd survive can't you see my mirth's broken
armoured be grief enamoured belief birthed the sane

-

Realization is a dead sigh. It floats in the eyes like blindness.

-

বাকী রাখা ঠোঁট
গলে যাওয়া বরফ
উত্তাপের উষ্ণতায়
পুড়ছি কলঙ্কের মতো......

নখের আঁচর
বাদামী ঠোঁট
মলমলের পোশাক পেরিয়ে
সংসার ভাঙ্গার একমাত্ৰ দাবিদার.

শেষ রাতে ক্ষমা করিস
এটা মোটেও নয়
পোষ্টমডার্ন মরালিটি
চুম্বন মার্ধাকর্ষণ তোকে ঘিরেই....

-

Both of them are in a same boat with a different destination one survived another quit

-

We find happiness by
Seeing a cloudy weather in d summer,
Clicking photos with "beauty plus",
Spending restaurant-days,
Observing a little bit of newness or by
Creating a stulish account.
We find happiness even during the death of our last hope.
This postmodern world is full of possibilities and there are so many things to make urself happy devoid of the negative vibes.
Hence,one poor chapter can't spoil ur whole story🤗
#self-realization

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That you are right without knowing that you don't have it

-

My night gives
Post modern mind
Thought travels
Past and future
Chaos cluster
Food death
War love
Plants lighthouse
Butterfly Tsunami
Seahorse Paris
Going on...

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