SECULAR GRAVE There's a half-death
Lingering between our lips
It becomes as full as a cloud,
As a blanket, as a floor-mat,
As a rivulet, as a starlet
When r(ay)volution meets
its obvious sand
The Romancer in us continues
his hunger strike
with moon as a pamphlet
What we proclaim, what we acclaim
What we leave unsaid
Doesn't reform our shame
We are game,
when bullet makes the hole,
Not the soul
We are just a name,
when growing old is a remark
for the young who're lame
Say to the bride & the bridegroom
Grow lame in love
Your grave is your bedroom
There's a half-death
Lingering between our lips
It becomes as full as
what we choose to keep
and how frequent in-between ideals
we choose to sleep
For now, your breasts are in my grip
Defence is Half-Capitalist,
Half-Communist, as long as
my zip I rip
Politician or magician,
Philosopher or commoner,
Religion or a love-pigeon, all are
Half-accomplished celebrities
I squeeze your nipple
For a single drop of new-born
It's so incomplete
Mom has fed innumerable drifts
Incompleteness is just
another drugged multiplication
There's a half-truth
Lingering between our lips
I suck you in hundred ways,
you make me do so in hundred ways
We're left wanting for more
Even if it isn't the love
For a full truth of half-saviour
& a semi-failure
I do promise the tenure
There is a half-death
& it's hands all the way,
human hands,
all over your body,
Oh my boyhood, manhood,
livelihood woman
Though at times,
my personal hands on your face
Is better than a
secular or fundamentalist grave
It's complete.
© Daipayan Nair
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Recital: Daipayan Nair
Video: YouCut App
Image: Google
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