Rain.
The child suffered it.
The mother had to.
I walked past them and flipped a coin.
I am human.
Only Humane.
----------------------------------

Painting.
The canvas lay white.
Colours were mixed and
I didn't like any of them.
The woman died.
Inside me.
-----------------------------------

The truck wheels shrieked.
Friend looked at me.
His eyes were two adjacent pools of blood.
His fallen wallet was safe.
The cards were intact.
A stray dog looked at the blood.
I didn't care.
I was checking an FB message
on my Blackberry.
--------------------------------------------------







4 comments:

Soumalya said...

Love the poem but concerned by the extreme apathetic sentiment of the characters :) One of those dark moods I guess where nothing but the ugly side of humanity is visible. Shades of modernist poetry

ManuKurup said...

@ Soumalya -

Dark moods have become a necessity. It has power and power is a life force. These are the turds of necessity forcing life force into survival. Modernism is just a shadow waiting to lick the leftover blood. Reality is the essence.

Jyotsna Yedem said...

I liked the painting one. Beautiful and dark and sad and a whole lot more.

ManuKurup said...

Thanks Jo.