Below The Damp Woolen Blanket Poem by Kamarudheen Amayam

Below The Damp Woolen Blanket



Before darkness blossoms
Absurd bore the slouch a son

On the forehead of darkness
Brightness laugh
On the waves of wisdom
Almithra dissolves
Helen dances in ecstasy
in the twirls of passion
Murky winds home in bright clouds
At the apex of angst
The sun of sin is reborn, violently.

On the calendar spring dances
But outside it rains, storming alleys.

After battling with damp woolen blanket
I seep into the shadow coated streets
Where unbearable nothingness reigns;

Ear ringed bridegrooms for bearded brides
Pensioned sons for mini-skirted mothers
Condoms in school bags
Plastic flowers for the dead
And kids playing with skulls.

Eyed tired of probing
unanswerable questions
Confronted again and again
Take a refuge Bacchus' hairs

Breathing in the essence of philosophers
Waiting for death
We talk about Russia,
Communism:
Like Viagra says one,
Like the half hearing
Abhimanyue in the Womb
Says the other
Finally we loudly agree with relief
That only Vodka remains unchanged.

And Nietzsche arrives for the final battle
It is then that I think of her
Forgetting her warts
And foul smelled mouth
I recall only her pink nipple rings.

Below melted clocks
Formless nights
And penniless travelers in a forsaken inn
Wait for the night to shed its dark petals.

In the midst of their cackle
Absurd and the slouch
Begot more sons
Who take refuge
damp woolen blankets
Cursing figureless fate,
Warming on the shore of sin
Procreating endlessly.
- - - -

Saturday, November 15, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: political
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