Sunday, April 4, 2010

Hatred pungent and I

Hatred a feeling like an ugly bluish aged bruise.
Sometimes, even the insipid green tint, the oozing puss,
and even when the pain subsides
remains the ever reminding repulsive scar.
Hatred pungent and I; my lacerated soul.

Childhood nights, the memory of the rat and the rattrap.
The rattle of the timber plank falling,
the sharp, squeaks frantic skittering scrape.
Then the piece of poisonous bread and
death, an uncanny silence.
Hatred pungent and I; my lacerated soul.

Quarrels at my neighbor’s place
Silent tears of my childhood friend.
Her mother’s hair the jasmine flowers,
those strange men and small animal sounds.
My friend’s painful sobs and loneliness.
Hatred pungent and I; my lacerated soul.

Teacher, the ferocious lewd gleaming eyes
the claws tooth and nail terror fright shock.
Death of a child her mind and innocent purity
chemistry and physics and the man’s fingers
moving, a filthy insect in between my thighs.
Hatred pungent and I; my lacerated soul.

The lady sweating the whole day
at her master’s house, cooking washing and housekeeping
tireless good woman dedicated life for others.
The widow makes sure she toils whole day
so that she is safe till the night, night that she can’t escape
serving her master, the price she has to pay
for her husband’s death at an early age.
Survival, a giant blister in her heart.
Hatred pungent and I; my lacerated soul.

I spread my arms and let the rain take me
The word ‘love’ that I have searched all along.
Tiptoeing through puddles mud and grime
trying hard to welcome the life of love.
I stop halfway at the darkening staircase
emptiness swirls around realizing the unknown errors of life.
The love I collected so carefully and kept close
now shines in its ugly hideous prominence, truth settles
the vine of desire, lust like those thrown away old clothes
Hatred pungent and I; my lacerated soul.

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