HEAVEN

Heaven's just

a few blocks away

from where i live—

fenced in barbed wire,

its fruits are

too far away

to taste.

Inside, there's music,

the bricks that

build up the wall

of my dreams—

but for us here,

the sound of laughter

comes at the price

of our souls.

Here, in our

neighbourhood,

light means only

the harsh stare

of sixty watt bulbs—

evenings,lifetimes,

spent under its

blinding glare.

Bleak walls speak

through generations

of grime and dust—

their voices gone

hoarse from praying.

Down here—where i live,

Life means the place

everybody wants to leave.

East of us, where sunlight is—

music, friends, laughter—

heaven—the place

that never is.

Anirban Kapil Baishya(27/3/2012)

Arrival

Things have

changed,

the people are

strange—

they dont

recognize my

face anymore.

The grass was

green, like

nothing youv'e

seen—

now all I

have are

these pills

and a broken

floor.

Things have

changed,

these things are

strange...

the sole of my

soul awaits,

tattered alone...

it seems like

not too long ago,

your arrival was

a footstep

on cold

cobblestone.

Anirban Kapil Baishya (26/3/2012)

If only time meant soft clocks...

Infinite this,infernal

infallibility,inferential hell...

I might as well.

Paint the colour of time,

skeleton of the universe,

each day's a hearse.

Night,a funeral

for the dying day...

I have to say.

There is no love, no above;

Just an infinitely infinite

circle---infernal, sublime,

You and I, forever drowning

in the cruel tides of time.

Anirban Kapil Baishya (11/3/2012)

On Murder

A blade can blot,

out of eyes, the sun...

A murderer is just

God with a gun...

A pound of flesh,

a debt to release,

God is in the fangs

of the wolf to the geese.

A cruel divinity

surely this,

this urge to kill,

murder is but

the brother of

free will.

Anirban Kapil Baishya (24/2/2012)

To Night

Night, my armour,

my sweet, dark cloud—

salvation from

empty eyes, darkness

my shroud.

This body,

soul entrapped

in flesh, divine

deceit, you hide—

lingering somewhere

between, the barbed

divide.

Night, my lover,

my promise

of play—night,

deliverance from

the benumbing skin

of the day.

Anirban Kapil Baishya (21/2/2012)

Loco

"Canvas is dead",

i told me the

other day.

"No, an exorcism

is all it needs",

said he to me.

Anirban Kapil Baishya (11/2/2012)

Window

If time could be in a vial

stored, the dust of memories,

of lips adored...etched in

the mind, like a photograph,

the window without a wall

is only half...

The shoe must try, the elusive

foot to find...the

spectacle without the eye

is forever blind.

Memory of your lips, a photograph...

Window I, wall-less am half.

To you then,this silent serenade,

if love is satin, then parting a blade.

Anirban Kapil Baishya (5/2/2012)