Dogmatism

 

The Marxist comet burns

At a distance of many light years,

 

The comrade looks up for his reflection

On the mirror,

 

Cataract obstructs the light that

Falls on the blades of grass

 

That moss over the tombstones

Of the martyrs.

 

 

 

My psychological lynching

(written after watching Shankar's "I")

 

I was watching a movie the other day

the hero hailing from the slums

speaks in an uncouth slang,

his Angle Saxon girlfriend sets in right

with a tight slap!

 

 

From then on

The hero sways in sync with his heroine,

a paler version of his former self.

Keep the body, take the mind.

The psychological lynching of my soul.