Bullet Point Love

August company

• I 
• Love
• You

For the death of me.

Anirban Kapil Baishya (4/9/2012)

Nietzsche

You are the
darkness,
I am the
abyss...

Only there's
no one
staring into us.

I cry for

the dying horse

as I mourn

my brother in

the barbed wire coffin.

Anirban Kapil Baishya (18/8/2012)

Reply

To speak of touch, to speak

of lips,this memory of your's

in my fingertips.

Every synapse,nerve,each cell...

every vein pulsates

with this story to tell.

If life's just a mirror

of a dream and every melody

just the rhythm of a scream...

No telling which way the axe

will swing;

or where the prelude

becomes the sign

that ends everything.

Anirban Kapil Baishya (20/7/2012)

Monkey

Red monkey breath—
each  petal                                                       flutters
like paper in
the                                                                    gutters    in
the turbulent energy
of its                                                                                                   being.

Its love, a simian
logic (or the lack of it).

Swinging sinews
bind palm to branch,
to                                                                     root—each
                                                                        shoot
each leaf flutters too,
in the reckless dance
of its                                                                                                    fleeing.                

Ancient primal
primate love this,
that fills the
rhesus in my                                                    gut—
Red and throbbing
and vital
its song                                                             but,
just a note
short of                                                                                                freeing.

Anirban Kapil Baishya (14/5/2012)

Some things are better not named...

My star burns now,
joyous and throbbing!


My star burns,shining
its thousand sun light
into me.

Synapse to soul,
its sinews bind me
in newfound strength.

The light cradles me
like Lazarus'
resurrected breath.

Anirban Kapil Baishya (3/5/2012)

Shoe's Lament

I'm still size six, Its you

that's grown too big.

For a year I cradled you like

a child. Now my leather's

tattered, my sole's burnt wild.

Every step you took forward you see,

Was an inch closer to oblivion for me.

The print you and I had left on the sand,

painted the end, now close at hand.

Now sitting on this coffin like rack, my

mind cannot help wander back—

To the time when

I wasn't just another old shoe,

and meant the whole world to you.

Anirban Kapil Baishya (7/4/2012)

Time Travels (like an arrow through my flesh)

Have you been struck by time's

untimely arrow?
The irreversible reverse,shot
from its twisted bow?

The open wound is soft inside,
when it comes down to
the last grain of sand,
there is no loss
and no pride.

When the scales tip, what
is a wrinkle, and what is
a smile? I can only
wish, my clock would
wait a while.

Anirban Kapil Baishya (3/4/2012)