Hands suspended in the void,
Grope in a haze of smoke,
Of burning cities.
Ten thousand years of garbage,
Ten thousand printed words,
In all their combinations – burn,
Ten thousand thoughts.
*
Bewildered and schemeless,
In the dream-walk of a somnambulist,
The sobbing mind behind the groping,
Hands seek the tragic impossibility,
Of re-entering relentlessly moving time
Of re-drafting the written line.
The throbbling remorse of could-have-beens,
Of ten thousand memories.
*
Gaunt and mud-splashed,
Persists an indestructible spectre,
The brown sheen of its tight-drawn skin,
Glistens in the flames,
Yellow and black,
Whose deep-throated cry tears the sky,
For vengeance.
*
With the pent fury of ten thousand years,
It shatters the concrete columns,
Of the temples of justice.
The treacherous weighted scales broken,
And scattered. The blinded goddess,
On a macadamed street. Her feet of clay,
A formless mess.
*
The broken pillars stand against,
A crimsoning sky,
Like phallic symbols.
**
J.J Puthucheary