I Am an Extremist In My Own Tongue

By Ritu Borah

It was a sleeping tongue in my book a few calenders back –words ‘solitary’ , ‘proliferated’ , and ‘cooked’ from filtered desks .

Years on and old off the road quiet- “ A domicile of letters not bleed ” .

Buried in a cold reck whose call reaches ignored ,till it devoured my heart's tolerance hurled into creaky shores.

As I look back my eyes ' extremists fill up this coup -like ' bromance 'and 'sisomance ' cone - ‘A symmetry’,presents subtle eyes in 'mance' and 'womance' feet .It yearns for the dissolve care , it ‘preservedly’ look .

Like an underground mind in the tunnels of songs unleashed ,it raided the crowded banks and the river was snatched of its tears .Thought it lacked ‘dense’, ‘pretence’ and ‘dignified foul’, lean from this absence knock in a block – ‘belock in abandonment’, rift every rose from my heart gifts , and cellular ripples from its tidal high ,gnarl every sky from its bay .And I look upon its birth pronounce , ‘Hello’ , tales ever reached in the years of ' connectivoy ' -from love sandstorm to doom song will it ever slam ?

Some words lived in old syllables and died a thousand tales  , but streams old of its sigh tread no nature in youth .They shores in the distance door rub against a block – ‘ belock in abandonment ’ ,and in contempt of new letter box , the orphan of solitude bursts ,as snake to mongoose 's prey . It absconded with the mission abort .

Please, ignite this feeling of soluble ‘Mississippi’ , fertile to your sweet sea ,a womb of parroted racks build up the street dogs ,as trail had shipped some crossword quizzes .The bees of tomorrow stoked fire in the will's shade ,and a light dissolves in the salts of needless bash .

Thin threads of monotheism in our black holes ' loop ,flattened by my Earth 's parallel into divisive fruits .In contempt of new solitude the orphan dissent in births ,swimming hot successes and moments cool retire to sense ,till everything evaporates , and pour down to will :up from a little brown smokes in smiles never neat ,Steaming hot lids slow down their cheeks altitude ,till run down chicks vaporizes and cool ablaze ,and lure them to sleep snorting from our father sky Who feed them with silence once more retire ,but once open- the flood gate of sacrilege -See them burnt , their eyes of left tears bade , and kisses mom .

Prove me one pearl of the sky and one pearl of the eyes are of equal high ?They hold an army like elephants and value as long as Roses’ gold .

Some historical title and songs remember their genes .The institution call sky , and all the heavenly degrees abovehave engraved their keloid and tombs on earth .Pledge may tune a song of a prayer , or a leave -"The Mahadev of my heart rents Jai Siya Ram , jai Bajrang bali ".These magma and magnetic resorts have a long occult of a rise in reverse -massive earth build on rocks and seeds granary ,that looms in stacks of granite and marble .

Written on behalf of a successive world to a new counterpart -

“That nobody wants to be second to     none ,that nobody wants to be convert of cold -‘race’, ‘religion’, ‘culture’, ‘sect’ , and ‘man’ .I am an extremist in my own tongue”. 

By Ritu Borah