The Psychedelic Cityscape

on

By Sukant Kumar Panigrahibusy-london-underground.jpg

On a cross walk,
Bleeding grey,
The sky pouring down,
Melancholia,
The whirring buzz,
Of the fretful engines,
Mindnumbing screams,
In my head,
Neon lights-Psychedelic,
The Moonlight-Bewitching,
Lead awry and astray,
Drawn,
To Flesh, spirit and opiates,
Resemblance uncanny,
To the works,
Of Bosch and Bruegel,
A Bedlam in the concrete jungle,
The noise and commotion,
The desolate streets,
Brimming with a million heads,
Hustling on the tarmac wet,
And a million more asleep,
A few-even dead,
Rising smoke from chimneys,
From ashtrays,
And crushed dreams and hopes-
Set ablaze,
The mellow flames that warm our hearts,
Weaken, and weaken,
By every minute,
Down the lane,
The air,
Reeking, heavy,
Of failure and disdain,
Somewhere a girl weeps,
Tears rolling down her bruised cheeks
Picking crimson on the way,
Somewhere a little boy sleeps,
Oblivious that his dad,
Has bled to death in blue,
A man drinks away his pain,
His wallet, his pint, his strength,
To the very last bit drained,
An old man,
Asleep on his chair,
The TV buzzing static,
While his life’s worth,
Is burgled away,
All of us lose ourselves,
In the limitless cityscape,
Find yourself,
In verses,
In proses,
In notes of music,
On canvas,
On film,
In the star filled skies,
In mellow rains,
Rinse yourself,
Drown yourself,
Anchor yourself,
To your virtual escape,
Before, alas,
With the nebulous commotion,
You unremittingly drift away.
-S.

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