‘We have come to the utmost position of the development.’- The evening with the ruction. (May go far the camel without cactus.) The owl looks at the watch and finds a watch dozing at the square With rushing vehicles and advertisements And then the come-hither in the moribund city. (The city has been a rubber stamp of the robust canker.) And gets tapped and trapped a lone womb in the seminar hall. And after that gets glorified white fluid.. white fluid…white fluid. Yet Swims, no doubt, the vendetta in the slurred utterance. Yet The cruel significant of technology in the basement shows on its broken teeth. And at the threshold cries the petal of a white rose. (The morning is too obscure to identify the wrinkles of the bastard.) ‘And there will be no ending of the flow of dry corpses.’ Thinking so throws the last sign of cancer in the air Satan. Is there no comeuppance since then? Have you met any of it in the chained rendezvous? About the author:
Partha Sarkar, a resident of Ichapur, a small town of a province West Bengal Of India, is a graduate who writes poems inspired by the late Sankar Sarkar and his friends (especially Deb kumar Khan) to protest against the social injustice and crimes against nature. His poems have been in different magazines both in Bangla and in English. Once, he would believe in revolution but now he is confused because of the obscurity of human beings, though he keeps fire in soul despite.
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