Debanjan Dhar

A little bit of whiskey does make things a little better. That is why a man must make some money. Then he can work all day and come back home and drink his whiskey before anything goes wrong in the head. The heart can take care of itself. It is the mind that keeps
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A beat is a stone to which a parachute is tied.
A beat is a ripple, Welcome my mermaid bride.

When the beat is done, you have tried your heart,
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I shall not be pushing a letter through the window.
Times are such I leave a wish wrapped in a shadow.
If your breath wills you may find it whispering by your tresses
Or hiding scared, yet longing to be found in your closet full of dresses.
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I stood in a queue again to sell my hours
When my turn came, I was already tired
But I let the good Sun roast me well
Almost bludgeoned to strength I staggered to
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It was in a Saturday afternoon that everything seemed to rhyme
As if all seasons had come back to their birth time.
A piano man played a trick from the back of the hedge,
The sun fed flower caught his act but listened to his pledge.
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Maybe I’ll stumble on a way out of you
Maybe you’ll agree there was a way to blue
Maybe there’s a time to show you by your hands
Where I have been
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And then you were lost in the grey of the moody mountain
She looked as if she hid my dreams under the veil of silence
She keeps on her own but the clouds still are her playmates
So they would guard the moon and she wouldn’t protest
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I have been down there with you and high at least as much the eagle’s soar.
Sometimes, somewhere nowhere that guides me to you;
Sometimes like a dragon fly prancing around your toes
And at times it seemed we’re inches from a thousand ocean’s roar…
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That was just a gimmick, a poor hand on mimic,
Tasteless stereo-comic - How outrageously platonic.
Makes a fellow laugh, be indifferent as a calf.
May cut the head in halves and then lead the mind to starve
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Day school is over,
All lessons are learnt and to be applied in unknown.
All lights absorbed by the lake to be reflected tomorrow.
As I entered, it was cooler but then it was gradually warming.
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Sweetest words long dead in time,
All stripped of warmth as a phantom’s mime,
Do the glass door act on the stage called mind.
It seems the theater hall is not a place to unwind.
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I had my mind free enough to watch the color on the air.
The emerald promise I have remembered seemed smiling in its despair.
Filled to the brim with a magic breath I took my next few steps
But the anxious spirit soon burnt out the spell yet I pined to pay off my debts.
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Futile bonding know their fate
So all that matters is the end.
Answers hidden but not sought for
May surface but reasons would not.
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Catching a feel, letting it go,
Finally slow to ride on.
John Doe,
He met a friend, bought him a drink
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Oh, Rope Lady, can you see me through all the nascent contemplation?
Your eyes are closed yet you see so much more
in this service to obligation.

I loved a deceit and followed it to the woods but returned pining for more
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Drifter drifts back to where drifted from.
On his way he has kept score of all pages you tore.

With every page torn, the story shines bright in crystal missing links,
In the reddish gloom of black nights and deceiving rain promise.
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Guns are a man’s best friend I suppose -
Would just give you what you need instead of crying a hose.
Talk to me woman when you are not a lady.
I’ll see you one last time before my hands are no more shaky.
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I dream of you in the dawning hope,
I reached for you and slid down the slope,
I saw I had my pockets full of withered leaves from June.
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We were in serendipity and in search for it now
All that could be said had been said already
Sometimes you try too hard, you just go for it
But all that passion must mean something
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