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To The Conspicuous Mr. Lord
by Sabyasachi Roy
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I don't discern a lot concerning the perfunctory falcon despoiling the humming bird; however compound rapes executed by the contraption we are observer to on a day by day basis.

We change by bit, if at all; you said on a congregation 'Mr. Lord, I obtain petite solace from the soiled mother; remarked that 'Existence. Speak no more at all'; following twenty-seven, each dig up the facade they justify

Gratitude. And thanks for all the Eastman colored clippings I had gathered over the boundaries and crevasses in transcription of apiece for twenty-seven years - I prepared facsimiles for a reserve of never-to-be in black and white chronicles.

You, me and him, the formidable brother Saturn, incarcerated back then in dream works; life sentence on the overhang at Eternity Street, Himalayas. That imposing matured flagship that I would almost immediately enough abscond, and an infantile kilns be deprived of to providence; the snippets showed us on a nameless day, in a nameless hour possibly after the hours of darkness before in superior amity, preparatory salutes on the left over liquor. Enslaved on the terrace, bordered by impassive Olympic circles.

Paragraphed in a pretentious locale, the days pass; luminosity substantial. Our compassions, panorama of potential debacle and exodus for individual flash of tranquilly - we, the sons and daughters of the aphrodisiac stand on the parapets, pathetically unarmed. 

March 13 ,2005
More by :  Sabyasachi Roy
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Solitude and other poems by Rajender Krishan
 


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