By Sakshi Bhatia
Let the games begin.
Let the past stay in yesterday.
In yesterdayʼs sadness
Todayʼs gladness can feel little
Because tomorrow is brittle
Like old bones tired,
Like old phones,
with squiggly wires,
That were land lines on
Interconnected roads,
On which fluorescent
Frogs, who identified as
Good looking rogues, played politics;
courting naughty curious cats,
There were gun shots,
And cameras flashing,
Balls cheering bats,
Rats nibbling cheese
Enjoying the tropic breeze.
2
The lights freeze,
Life ceases to move
Like a Deja vous at the Louvre,
People Staring at the Mona Lisa,
Eating a crepe, A pizza
drunk on red wine,
an unrelated memory of goodness
Interrupts the dodgy present,
And creates tremors
in the future,
where the past was hiding to
Heal and conceal
A sacred suture
Flowing with water
In a proud daughter,
from a proud nation
That has abandoned
Rationale
To become patriotic; Anti national.
3
It was never fashionable
To stand alone
and pick bones from the ground
where precious stones
loitered in freedom
not yet co-opted by greed
or sent away on a lead
to hang from the neck
of a kitsch bitch
whose friend would snitch
about the rich
and also hate on the poor
in a country getting higher and lower
faster and slower
poorer and richer
the new sewage drains were constructed
only to ditch her
after the killing and murder
and to continue vacationing further
in the nation
of rations, stations and vacations
for others, alien brothers
visiting a foreign land,
for a cheap helping hand
to play dangerous games
always illegal.
4
In the backdrop,
Seagulls bring messages
from virgin contenders,
to favor the lenders
and spenders of fuck-you money.
In a sunny paradise where everyone dies
and is resurrected,
all mistakes are corrected
all murders are wiped out
from the record.
The past is checkered
and the future is uncertain
of the princes
who stole their dignity from urchins.
5
The mind is a room
divided by a curtain,
of memories black, white & colored;
memories of that one night,
when summer was peaking.
they got what they were seeking
reeking of alcohol and blood
unbothered by morals
unbothered about destroying the corals
unbothered by the flood that was coming
to be the unbecoming the undoing
of innocent love
that had been brewing
in the hearts of the unsuspecting.
6
A sea of vultures
Will judge this vacation
with the lens of different cultures
only to conclude
that aggravated assault
is indeed a crude way of conducting
criminality.
A good murder cannot be traced
To the source of all this light
There fore
A fight is must
in the court of law
For an appropriate settlement
That will certainly be unjust
Inalienable on any planet on any island
Barring Lanka and Thailand
Where sexual deviance is the norm
In any light and any form.
Pedophiles who ruled the roost
donʼt need another boost in their sales
as they operate out of jails
and their murder suicides are planned.
The island is manned and surveilled
In case someone failed
At hiding the identities
Of the criminals and the victims
Pitted against each other
In an eco-system
Destroyed
On an island of dirty
Where only the rich have liberty
And the poor can only fight back
As the middle class enjoys
A light snack and tea
And turns off the T.V.
To get back to
Power napping.
As the new satellites are mapping
Another new virgin island
To make dirty and murder her
before she turns 30.
By Sakshi Bhatia
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