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Barbaric, Mystical, Bored

Barbaric, Mystical, Bored. Friday, January 26, 2018. I could’ve known nirmala. Or have heard of her. Or have read about her. But none of these happened. She kept on hauling her rifle. Across dark heartlands of history. Some people might have heard. Her rifle booming with the clouds. Some might have seen it flashing. With thunders in the horizon. Nirmala might have lived. Or jailed, tortured, turned subhuman etc. It’s a strange dream. That spring will come. In the shadows of time,. Sunday, January 7, 2018.

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Barbaric, Mystical, Bored | atindriyo.blogspot.com Reviews

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Barbaric, Mystical, Bored. Friday, January 26, 2018. I could’ve known nirmala. Or have heard of her. Or have read about her. But none of these happened. She kept on hauling her rifle. Across dark heartlands of history. Some people might have heard. Her rifle booming with the clouds. Some might have seen it flashing. With thunders in the horizon. Nirmala might have lived. Or jailed, tortured, turned subhuman etc. It’s a strange dream. That spring will come. In the shadows of time,. Sunday, January 7, 2018.

<META> KEYWORDS

1 nirmala’s rifle

2 expecting springtime

3 or death

4 or died

5 expect nirmala

6 thus spake

7 atindriyo

8 no comments

9 j'accuse

10 only to withdraw

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nirmala’s rifle,expecting springtime,or death,or died,expect nirmala,thus spake,atindriyo,no comments,j'accuse,only to withdraw,many do,is disrespect,is indignation,to establish,to hide behind,while they advertise,and other endowments,you know this,blank

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Barbaric, Mystical, Bored | atindriyo.blogspot.com Reviews

https://atindriyo.blogspot.com

Barbaric, Mystical, Bored. Friday, January 26, 2018. I could’ve known nirmala. Or have heard of her. Or have read about her. But none of these happened. She kept on hauling her rifle. Across dark heartlands of history. Some people might have heard. Her rifle booming with the clouds. Some might have seen it flashing. With thunders in the horizon. Nirmala might have lived. Or jailed, tortured, turned subhuman etc. It’s a strange dream. That spring will come. In the shadows of time,. Sunday, January 7, 2018.

INTERNAL PAGES

atindriyo.blogspot.com

1

Barbaric, Mystical, Bored: Early Morning Photograph

http://atindriyo.blogspot.com/2015/04/early-morning-photograph.html

Barbaric, Mystical, Bored. Wednesday, April 22, 2015. You're so beautiful that love seems to be the running force of life. You fighting for the world. It's like Turgenev's mom-sparrow fighting for her baby. Like light rising from darkness. Like blind soldiers seeing the source of light. Unlike mooby hairy bald pervs quoting Russian literature for you and thinking of you as Margarita. Unlike moobier hairier perver pervs selling faith for votes. Adonis goes hunting with Angulimala. By the time i came to kn...

2

Barbaric, Mystical, Bored: Shabarpa

http://atindriyo.blogspot.com/2015/05/shabarpa.html

Barbaric, Mystical, Bored. Thursday, May 14, 2015. Shabarpa, Shabarpa enter the skies. Clouds cloud the north of east. Shabarpa feels the earths shake. Shabarpa sees his temple burn. Shabarpa sees his gods dead. Go for the kill,. For hunters must hunt. And Adonis must die for the red flowers to be. Heruk burns thunders across the oceans. White Tara blazes my eyes in cool, calm beauty. Her legs are white. Her skies are music of life and love. Green Tara dances crazy in the skies. Her legs are green. Ophel...

3

Barbaric, Mystical, Bored: For Avijit Roy, Shaheed

http://atindriyo.blogspot.com/2015/02/for-avijit-roy-shaheed.html

Barbaric, Mystical, Bored. Friday, February 27, 2015. For Avijit Roy, Shaheed. A bit of free mind got martyred yesterday. Are there any stats of how many butterflies are born per day? Are there any estimates of how many nuclear warheads will end religion for good? I've heard somewhere that martyrs don't really die. But when beautiful people get killed by ugly people. It feels like shit. Anyways, Abhijit Roy (hope that's how you used to spell your name), salute. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom).

4

Barbaric, Mystical, Bored: We Will All Be Bhagat Singh

http://atindriyo.blogspot.com/2015/03/we-will-all-be-bhagat-singh.html

Barbaric, Mystical, Bored. Monday, March 23, 2015. We Will All Be Bhagat Singh. River of life meets river of death. Forests never walk, dear Macbeth. And there's no milk in the Milky Way. They hang Bhagat Singh everyday. The river of love - it flows on still. The sharpest knives refuse to kill. By the bends of this ceaseless fight. They burn Bhagat Singh every night. The river of blood - it sinks all boats. It guts all guts and slits all throats. But that's not what it's really about. For Bhagat Singh wi...

5

Barbaric, Mystical, Bored: Naked, Lonely Hand: A meek translation of my all time favourite Bangla poem

http://atindriyo.blogspot.com/2015/05/naked-lonely-hand-meek-translation-of.html

Barbaric, Mystical, Bored. Sunday, May 17, 2015. Naked, Lonely Hand: A meek translation of my all time favourite Bangla poem. Darkness deepens in the skies again. This darkness – she’s like the misty sister of light. Who has loved me forever. And yet whose face I have never seen. Like that woman,. Darkness gathers dense in love on the springtime falgun night. Seems like a lost city. A palace of the city, lost in dust, awakes in heart. By the shores of the Indian Ocean. Or else by the Tyre Sea. To rooms f...

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Where I hold the one sitting up there responsible for everything and feign ignorance when my doing is being questioned | Do I Dare Disturb the Universe?

https://soliloquyncuppa.wordpress.com/2011/06/12/where-i-hold-the-one-sitting-up-there-responsible-for-everything-and-feign-ignorance-when-my-doing-is-being-questioned

Do I Dare Disturb the Universe? The Chaos Theory.a little not there. June 12, 2011. Where I hold the one sitting up there responsible for everything and feign ignorance when my doing is being questioned. Married for the past fifteen years. In an industry that never fails to entertain us with its stories of high profile divorces, it is wonderful to know that he and his wife have been together for a record fifteen years. Marriagedom (sic); another man who is a. It looks funny from the outside but from the ...

sourik-poems.blogspot.com

POEMS AND PARADISE..: Woof Contest Winners for May 1

http://sourik-poems.blogspot.com/2009/05/woof-contest-winners-for-may-1.html

I AM A POET. CHECK OUT SOME OF MY WORKS HERE. Wednesday, May 6, 2009. Woof Contest Winners for May 1. Roy – “. I have a hole in my socks. 8221; - Concealing what's inside with smile. like a sock with a hole. Zorlone - “. 8221; - Do you desire the perfect body? Then you have just surrendered to the vanity of the demon within you. Christable Anon – “. For my Brown Boy.”. Brown surrealism. a collage of thought process. Sourik Banerjee – “. Somewhere The Artist Still Remembers.”. Izzy Daniels – “. WOOF parti...

songs-from-the-road.blogspot.com

The Little Grey Squiggles.: April 2012

http://songs-from-the-road.blogspot.com/2012_04_01_archive.html

The Little Grey Squiggles. Saturday, April 21, 2012. The desert sands can do strange things to a person. The grains burrow deep into your skin to lend your face a timeless quality. The old man squatting opposite us was around ninety, but he looked older than anyone I had ever seen. Underneath a pair of bushy eyebrows, his eyes still retained sparks of a long forgotten fire. 8220;We never had enough water in those days. There was only one well, many kilometres away. People would walk there and sta...8220;...

songs-from-the-road.blogspot.com

The Little Grey Squiggles.: Home, sweet soul

http://songs-from-the-road.blogspot.com/2012/04/home-sweet-soul.html

The Little Grey Squiggles. Monday, April 16, 2012. Home, sweet soul. The city is lies, deceit and pretend humane. It is a complex machine of sorts, masquerading with a human face, a familiar place. It lulls its unknowing people into a complacent nap. Everything is alright because I am a happy place with a smiling face. Believe in me and the buildings that you see around you. You are mistaken. Behind those shut windows are not soulless souls who pretend to live. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom).

sourik-poems.blogspot.com

POEMS AND PARADISE..: The Song of Love

http://sourik-poems.blogspot.com/2010/01/dance-dance-dance-behind-mirrors-weep.html

I AM A POET. CHECK OUT SOME OF MY WORKS HERE. Saturday, January 23, 2010. The Song of Love. Dance behind the mirrors. Weep in bliss, lady. Glide through my dreams. My poems at your feet. Overdose the sitar with your voice. Forgive the serpent’s eyes. Behind your mad smile. Flirt with the child in his sleep. You ruled the sandstorms. Of a wounded eagle. Reward the earth with your soul. In the moonlit canvas. Of an ageless February evening. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). Come and join me in Facebook.

sourik-poems.blogspot.com

POEMS AND PARADISE..: Dreams in Flames

http://sourik-poems.blogspot.com/2010/01/dreams-in-flames.html

I AM A POET. CHECK OUT SOME OF MY WORKS HERE. Wednesday, January 13, 2010. A very urban afternoon. Go up in flames. Upon the marble floor. Of the midnight drama. In the radioactive touch. The superhero is lost. And so is lost. It is only her voice. That I remember now. The streets are again breathing. Murders in the unknown alleys,. Fake political promises,. They don’t excite me anymore. Let me be silent now. As I look up. My silence speaking of only. Romance and crime…. May 8, 2010 at 8:39 AM.

sourik-poems.blogspot.com

POEMS AND PARADISE..: Violet Romance

http://sourik-poems.blogspot.com/2009/09/violet-romance.html

I AM A POET. CHECK OUT SOME OF MY WORKS HERE. Friday, September 4, 2009. I flush my dreams here today. Blood trickling down the pipelines. Try to cage my throat. This evening offers me nothing. And the very soft perfume of marijuana. I watch the wet photo burning slowly. Upon the marble floor. Do I need to remember you anymore? And haunting midnight messages. That echoed through my cellphone? And the many days. Struggling to write a line for you? For this hour poisons me. And a very strange longing.

sourik-poems.blogspot.com

POEMS AND PARADISE..: You Creep In...

http://sourik-poems.blogspot.com/2009/05/you-creep-in-through-shallow-crevice-in.html

I AM A POET. CHECK OUT SOME OF MY WORKS HERE. Wednesday, May 6, 2009. Through the shallow crevice. In the night sky. Disguised as the moon. Like the sun’s third eye. Gliding through the waves. Like a young sapling. Of this wounded motherland. Like the forgotten scents. Through the dark pipelines. Like the psychedelic dreams. Of reveries and slumber. Through the narrow crevice. On the skin of my loquacious mind. May 7, 2009 at 1:04 AM. Thats very interesting write, fellow poet :). May 8, 2009 at 12:01 AM.

sourik-poems.blogspot.com

POEMS AND PARADISE..: The Rendezvous

http://sourik-poems.blogspot.com/2009/06/rendezvous.html

I AM A POET. CHECK OUT SOME OF MY WORKS HERE. Saturday, June 13, 2009. Sits in the quiet corner. Trickling down his throat. A vortex of bohemian. Tunes in his mind. Nebulous thoughts crawling in. Rising through the winds. And morphing into a fireball. With the marble floor. Dancing to the eerie serenade. When his eyes meet. Breathing on her lips. Of his lost romance. In his memory of fossils. Giving birth to coveted prophets. Of love and romance. With every stroke of the finger. In the seductive asylums.

sourik-poems.blogspot.com

POEMS AND PARADISE..: Che

http://sourik-poems.blogspot.com/2011/06/che.html

I AM A POET. CHECK OUT SOME OF MY WORKS HERE. Thursday, June 2, 2011. Wild man in a beret,let your spirit breathe now; upon this time and red soil. there are stains of rebellion still hanging from your beard. jungle scent on your fatigue. liquid history in your eyes. there was a time, when you could paralyse mysteries with your words. there was still a time, when you could speak to wolves and stranger lakes. Miracles and violence. sound and silence. Vengeance and freedom. murder and peace. As a rebel,.

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Barbaric, Mystical, Bored

Barbaric, Mystical, Bored. Friday, January 26, 2018. I could’ve known nirmala. Or have heard of her. Or have read about her. But none of these happened. She kept on hauling her rifle. Across dark heartlands of history. Some people might have heard. Her rifle booming with the clouds. Some might have seen it flashing. With thunders in the horizon. Nirmala might have lived. Or jailed, tortured, turned subhuman etc. It’s a strange dream. That spring will come. In the shadows of time,. Sunday, January 7, 2018.

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