Thursday, 15 August 2019

Poetry 2019 Longlist, Arkadeep Sengupta


The Outcast
The women run in front of me.
The men stroll behind me.
And I walk alone, an outcast, in between them,
A feeling of loneliness and languish overcame.

The women glance men in front of me.
The men gaze women behind me.
And I see everyone, an outcast, unable to discern,
The vanity in them that rules and governs.

The women whisper in front of me.
The men discuss behind me.
And I sit alone, an outcast, both ears did I lend,
Withered notion on life and love, I fail to comprehend.

The women eat in front of me.
The men drink behind me.
And I taste nothing, an outcast, for I feign to taste their glee,
And I stole away from the glamour and the glitz and the vast eternity.

The women stink of greed in front of me.
The men stench of ego behind me.
And I smell of nothing, an outcast, only a sour smell of shame,
A false sense of sanctimony, dangerous to think, appalling to claim.

The women rest in front of me.
The men laze behind me.
And I discover alone, an outcast, in-between them-
How ambiguous is my position for I head towards women,
And towards me chase the men.

The women reflect in front of me.
The men rationalize behind me.
And I contemplate in between them in every possible sense,
An outcast with an outcasted sense of hope, hopes-
May their vices cease and all the pretence,
And gluttony, ego and vanity from their soul, maybe forever, elopes.

The women stab each other in front of me.
The men assault each other for their self-worth behind me.
And I run alone, an outcast, in between them,
Unable to decipher their habitual insanity, iniquity's unbroken stem

The men and the women then slipped and fell.
Down, down, down into an ominous darkness, a tenebrous hell.
And with them hurled into darkness my only futile hope-
For in them subsisted, remains and shall persist,
Their vices as long as all the human race exists and time may surcease.
And I stood alone watching them gone,
For there was nobody but I, an outcast, left to mourn.

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