Monday, September 2, 2013

When Tagore Shot Me Down

Where the mind is without fear
in the weeping hours of faded dope
a sly smile will kill you
as the passionless breasts lose out taste
and the blurry stream of reason
falls victim to my molly pride
we fall in love with the mundane rot
where the heads are held high 
and the men are sold for free
when the existential awakening reaches its zenith
bullets are traded for thought
because thoughts don't come free
the world has been united by those erratic hollow bellies 
where the mind is lead forward by thee
into the sanguine arms of death 
into that heaven of misery
my darling, let my country awake !