01 January 1970

Fondling Your Own Soul


Fondling Your Own Soul

Bring me that childhood, the poet demands. Don't we all desire that period of time to wipe out the sour taste of life?

Artwork by Anupriya
Artwork by Anupriya

Vandalism, Vandalism and Vandalism. 
Life became tattered, vocab became buttered.
Innocent monopoly given by Gosh,
vituperating oneself by the same bosh. 
You got a scatterbrain, losing the vogue voice,
hold your rambunctious vividly to get a good choice. 
Fondling your own soul, don't be procrastinated,
elicit the vainglory to avoid big hyphenated. 
Excoriating at the back side, unsucculent,
vomit at the wrong spot, it's a feculent. 
Vandalism, Vandalism and Vandalism. 
Sacredness is mocked by the anarchy, 
jawline looks charming, but the blotchy. 
Fermenting the water by acetous,
roasting the red meat, despite vigorous.
Bring me that childhood that I lost, 
vyingly I'm overwhelmed, like a baned frost.

(Trijit Mukherjee is a student pursuing his masters in Kolkata. He has been writing poems since his college days and his poems have been published in Indian periodicals.)