Wounds Poem by Malay Roy Choudhury

Awning ablaze with toxic fire above me
I lie watching the winged blue of this crawling sky
putting down the crushing anger of my suffering
I crossexam my nocturn doubts
pushing a gramophone needle over the lines of my palm
I scan the prophecy

armature on the left turned slag long ago
now eyeflesh twitching in the smoke of malay's burning skeleton
dismantled tempests sweep by at 99mph
uniform queues of wristwathched zombies tattle tradecyclic seine
a swinging bat threatened me in this black dungeon
800,000 doorless jamb stare for eternity over the liquid meadow

16dvn ravens whirl around my torso for 25 years
my bones reel clutching my raw wounds
my peeled fleshblood
flaying my skin I uncover arrogant frescoes of my trap
ageless sabotage inside the body
patrolling darkness in the hemoglobin
I'm deciding what to do with me now
I've inherited emergent vengeance
polished for 6000 years
tugging at man's insensibility
scraping old plaster of my skin
fingernails look magnanimous after the meal
people are returning home on tortoise back
failing to searchout my heart in my body
man training man the fair-spoken codes of war & hospitality

gathering fallen limbs from the torso we've to retreat to
I lie lazily closing both eyelids wrapped in sunflakes
coked reeks conspiring in my veins turned loose
ohh
from the vapour of brain's angry kernel
technicoloured nitrocellulose oozes over dreamlined retina
letters of sympathy heaped against halfclosed futureless door
my black muscles rust
equally true corpses of geniuses & fools
slime simultaneously into earth
each woman is waiting with a conversion chart in her desolate womb
Gandhi & Attila's equichemical blood
streams through my same veins
nothing happens to me
nothing will happen to this earth either
neither could I practice usury like the rest of mankind
nor shoot dice made of human bones

seeds floating in air try to slouch roots
into my unfertile sweatbeads
I dreamt of my failure in Bumghang's apple orchard
I couldn't choose the luxurious comfort of an insect
sleeping in the cushioned kitchen of a corn's kernel
I've been spitting inside my body for the last 25 years
scraping off from mirror's knave mercury
self-savior imprints of my violent face
each & all having a certificate from the burning-ghat doctor
for their performance of duty until last breath

2000 hounds released from out of my skull
haunting me for 25yrs
sniffing the alleys trod by women I advance toward their
amateur abode
my heart-lump split open in terror
when I looked at footprints on dark pavement
sounds of dripping sand have evoked my skinpores
my spineburnt smoke billow through chimneys of skin
ants drag fleshcopses through mothmade clayveins
damn barefoot amid seagulf I proceed
to sullen den of vultures
I've experienced magic simultaneously of food
concealing envious tints of blood & pus
perverse sugarcane brain sucks
liquid philanthropic dirt out of earth
my Dirt my Love my Blood
clouds drift by like pieces of discarded bloodseained cloth
I now recall Bluegirl's sick left tit...
Vibrating with heart's feeble flutter
Life's whacklings are to be endured until death
with a dumb tongue
a blazing mantle hangs in place of my heartmachine
plus-minus signs and compasses with broken needles
stream through my arteries

rifle's dazzling nozzle & diesel-roller sleep
in iron-ore of earth
and stored deep down in zink's brain
newspapers' Yes & newspaper's No
my feet do not realize
I'm controlling their speed & direction
I'm not sure if I'll have to become unworldly
paying excise with an untransferable woman
I gloomed all through the winter forging my own signature
was born not wanting to be born
now without unlacing my shoes
I want to plunge into the glowless dark
everybody is making arrangements for Tomorrow
shoes are having sympathetic polish this evening
only for Tomorrow
yet even circular roads get hold of man's legs
one day or the other
lusting for limbs 303 greased cartouches
stashed in new pineboxes

rush up to frontiers of countries
2510 years after Buddha sprawled on Gandhi-lawn
model-'65 leftover shoes & umbrellas of cop & non-cop clashes
in the warehouse of cocaine & counterfeit money
Indian & Chinese citizens mirth together in ecstasy
I had lifted a 5-paise coin from a blind beggar's palm
I had looted benevolent money of hearse-corpses
Out of parched groin
crossed death-panic on a boat not knowing how to swim
I may be censored I can not be disregarded

(From ‘Jakham', a poem that has often been compared with Allen Ginsberg's Howl.)