I'm Black-Listed. Poem by SRIRANJI ARATISANKAR

Drilling my skull
A ghost couple penetrated
And pitching tent living worldly life
Not follow the family planing
Procreated dozens of kiddies
All wicked to the back-bone, bastard;
With a splash dive into my liquid brain
Whirling round come to the wharf
Shivering all over with cold;

How fussing!
The Ghost couple amass
The branches and twigs of my corporeal withered tree
Then set on fire
Even they foment their hands and legs
How far I can?
Wish whopping show ‘Brindabana'
(Pleasure-grove of Lord Krishna)

Beat those bastard black and blue
But helpless; hopeless;

Why?

My Mistress is very much fond of blue Colour
And I'm black-listed.