Flatline
History
shall cease
to exist
Nothing
of it
shall
remain
To be
repeated…
The
pompous Sapiens
Who
prided
In
wearing time
Around
their wrists,
Shall run
out of it…
The clock
is almost done
Coming a
full circle…
All the tenses
shall
merge-
Past,
Present and Future…
And Time
will hit
its
primordial flatline again….
© Antara
Banerjee, 2020
Extinction
My verses
hang
like
severed limbs
of
slaughtered animals,
hooked to
the ceiling
of the
abbatoir-
the
slaughter house
of
reality.
The
bloodied fingers
still
twitch
to grasp
the truth,
that lies
scattered on the gory floor
among the
splinters of bones
and
offals-
remains
of
the
martyrs of reason
and the
victims of deceit.
I wish my
verses
to embrace
the truth once,
before
rigor mortis sets in.
What have
they to lose?
The
holocaust is complete
Human
extinction
dawns
upon the planet-
like a
boon!
Apocalypse
Mother
earth is tired,
sick to
her guts.
Disgusted
with what
she thought
was the
best out of her womb...
She had
birthed man
and
placed him
in the
cradle of nature,
ever so
lovingly.
Given him
the best
that she
possessed...
She had
nurtured him
to be the
worthiest of all.
Blessed
him
with a million
boons.
Little
did she know
that her
favourite child
would
grow up
to be
corrupted by the
Oedipus
Complex,
With a
rabid desire
to
consummate his libido
with its
own mother...
the child
would forge
its own
death!
He
ravages her
repeatedly
And loses
a boon
each time
he
commits the crime.
Million
to thousands
and
thousands
to
hundreds...
the boons
have eroded.
The
shamed
and
ravaged mother
tries to
save her child
from her
own wrath...
She
lunges
to
smother him
and yet
refrains...
But each
lunge
brings
her closer to revenge...
The end
of her favourite child...
A lethal
blow...
The
Apocalypse!
ANTARA
BANERJEE
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