binodpoetry.blogspot.com
camouflage: eyes (three)
http://binodpoetry.blogspot.com/2009/04/eyes-three.html
Sunday, April 19, 2009. Within your eyes and you can just feel it. That i am breathing. Let it stretch upward. The peak of sky. The ground and height. Darkness stresses over me. I would revive my life. 169; binod pradhan. Sunday, April 19, 2009. April 26, 2009 at 11:17 AM. Timro ankhama basera dekhchu ma. Timra aulaharule lekheko chha. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). Shellac: The Schoolbag Story. The X-ray World of Khadakbahadur Daju. Unplugged Version of the Working Class Hero. 169; binod pradhan.
binodpoetry.blogspot.com
camouflage: kissing the air
http://binodpoetry.blogspot.com/2009/05/kissing-air.html
Saturday, May 23, 2009. In front of me. At back of me. 169; binod pradhan. Saturday, May 23, 2009. Labels: Kissing the Air. January 5, 2010 at 9:57 AM. Reading this again and again. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). Shellac: The Schoolbag Story. The X-ray World of Khadakbahadur Daju. Unplugged Version of the Working Class Hero. कविताहरू. MY FREEDOM MY REVOLUTION. If It Rains: If It Rains Not. 169; binod pradhan. View my complete profile. There was an error in this gadget.
binodpoetry.blogspot.com
camouflage: Please Stay for an Hour.
http://binodpoetry.blogspot.com/2013/05/please-stay-for-hour.html
Wednesday, May 8, 2013. Please Stay for an Hour. When your breathe enters into my lungs. Its like a January. Becomes like the size of your eyeballs,. Becomes a galaxy of your scent,. Your voices growfrom the root of my ears. Please stay for an hour. This one hour would be a roof of time. Under which the fingers of our heartbeat. Would hold each other. Lets travel beyond light-year. As you and me can digest time. And lets talk in white words. The colour of our religion,. The colour of our country.
binodpoetry.blogspot.com
camouflage: purple haze
http://binodpoetry.blogspot.com/2009/04/purple-haze.html
Saturday, April 18, 2009. Hence our test tube children steadily giggled. At unfed hunger wrapped upon tiger's skin. Spilling from harry potterian lens. Brahmanya karmani sangam tyakta karoti yah. Lipyate nesa papena padma patramivambhasa. A bluetooth smile hung on aphrodisiac lips. Empty he came, empty he went:. Drifted across cyber tsunami. Softly kissing those allergic rashes on her vedic feet. But still, never removing moonwalks and catwalks. Cruncher by a pair of pigheaded shoe. Garnier; revlon; lakme.
binodpoetry.blogspot.com
camouflage: eyes (one)
http://binodpoetry.blogspot.com/2009/04/eyes-one.html
Saturday, April 18, 2009. How many journeys of pain. Do these eyes travel. Closing its lid each time? If these eyes had a voice. Every songs of tears. 169; binod pradhan. Saturday, April 18, 2009. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). Shellac: The Schoolbag Story. The X-ray World of Khadakbahadur Daju. Unplugged Version of the Working Class Hero. कविताहरू. MY FREEDOM MY REVOLUTION. If It Rains: If It Rains Not. 169; binod pradhan. View my complete profile. There was an error in this gadget.
binodpoetry.blogspot.com
camouflage: unplugged version of-"THE WORKING CLASS HERO"
http://binodpoetry.blogspot.com/2009/04/unplugged-version-of-working-class-hero.html
Thursday, April 16, 2009. Unplugged version of-"THE WORKING CLASS HERO". Take out their eyes. They no see my blood and tears,. They no lift my dreams,. They no utter my pain. My father death bed. Their father night disco. Their brother die without hunger. My brother die without food. And no money in my pockets. They make pockets in money. Their money and property where take? My bare feet no go. My hardships do no mistake. But they punish my sweat. My soil,my care, my hot breathe. Locked inside their bank.
binodpoetry.blogspot.com
camouflage: hangover 0:00hrs
http://binodpoetry.blogspot.com/2009/05/hangover-000hrs.html
Saturday, May 23, 2009. Last night i boozed. A farmer's daily wage. A cut at his knee. About his blind daughter. Who can vividly see. The hunger of her old mother,. Last night i boozed. You and your people. Cannot fly above their dusty hair,. Shine with their unbrushed teeth. About their hand made cigar. To which the goverrnment cannot impose tax. About their home- made wine. Which needs no sanction of the government. Tax their sorrows,. Their poverty has no country,. Their frustrations has no empire.
binodpoetry.blogspot.com
camouflage: Shellac: The Schoolbag Story
http://binodpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/03/shellac-schoolbag-story.html
Monday, March 15, 2010. Shellac: The Schoolbag Story. TWINKLE TWINKLE LITTLE STAR. HOW I WONDER WHAT YOU ARE. Her father never wanders. That how do stars shine in school. And every time she looks at her heliograph. In broken riffed mirror. She can see her damn egoistic beautified ugliness. Its the ordure of odium in her rough clothes. That grills the her slummy poverty. The sanctimonious devil is overdosed. Within the incinerated book of her schoolbag. Her schoolbag can never see her malnourished spits.
binodpoetry.blogspot.com
camouflage: The Soul Guitar
http://binodpoetry.blogspot.com/2011/11/soul-guitar_6139.html
Tuesday, November 8, 2011. My pregnant guitar sleeps. On the meretricious zone of my dispatched room. The foetus of your heart’s song. Tediously grows inside the womb of my guitar. The strings of my guitar. Are like your eyelashes. Where I jingle the chords and rhythms of your tears. With the tip of my thundering fingers. Points at the automatic digital emotion. That lies between you and me. I sing the song of your red ribbon. I pluck in the tunes of your shampooed hair. On the wrapper of those sweets.