October 29, 2014

Two poems by Bibek Adhikari

teachings of my guru

my guru came to my place once
banged on the door, walked inside
and slumped down on my arm-chair
flickered through the books on my table
and asked me the difference between
a phrasal verb and an idiom
i gave him the answer--honest
but he made his face and turned sour
for he wanted to fathom the depths of my knowledge
with a question as stupid as a lamb
he then drank the water from the bottle
and laughed a hysterical laugh
he happened to see my poems
out of the blue, in my blue-diary
"You write great. You are a genius." He spat out.
Got up
looked at me with eyes full of envy and hatred
(even in all of my nights his eyes frighten the hell out of me
as i see them up in the ceiling
when i lay on my bed to sleep)
he walked out and slammed the door so hard
that i felt the ground beneath me
crumble and swallow me up

i had the desire to burst into tears
surging up within me.
(and a desire to kick his goddamn ass
so hard that he would never slump on my chair again)


My body, now warm and capable
Of earnest grasping,
But, if it were cold . . .

And lay in the silence of my tomb,
Would it haunt your days?
And chill your dreaming nights?

I wish my own heart ran dry of blood
So in my veins,
Red life should never stream again.

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