Brainstorming
written by: Bhakta Bahadur Basnet
Without the plough of fate,
My forehead is bald
And the skull is barren.
Inside this withered skull,
The layers of cerebral intestines
Are malnourished, twisted and suffocated.
Playing a game of defiance,
To deceive my destiny,
I shattered my skull
With Hanuman’s mace and Thor’s hammer.
And squeezed my brain out
In the silence of emptiness
Of the wailing street.
And
I sifted the crumpled brain,
Filtered it with a strainer for brew,
Drank the essence of the brain,
Discarded the dregs into the trash.
What an irony,
Even the drooling stray dog
Starving and lying beside me
In the dejected street
Refused to lick those brain remnants.
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