Le Bricoleur

by Prof. Dibyajit Mukherjee



Without contraries there is no progression, as fair is foul and foul is fair! Where love is great, the littlest doubt is fear, Where little fears grow great, Great love grows there! Isn't this a sight to dream of and not to tell? Because I do not hope to turn, because I do not hope in this wasteland, Because at the back of my ear I hear time's winged chariot hurrying near, Because between the idea and the reality falls the shadow, Because we squeeze our voices through broken glass, Because we make love when the buildings go down and Durga is raped Time present and time past are always present in time future and time future contained in time past. I am not prince Hamlet, neither do I wipe my hands across your face and laugh, I do not fall upon the thorns of life and bleed but I see the stars throw down their spears and water dustbins with their fears. Do not speak to me, do not question me, do not talk to me, but stay with me As there is nothing to be done What? You and I? Are We Starting To Mean Anything? Of Course Not! Divine Aporia! I do not think therefore I am... I think where I am not so I am where I think not... And all's well that ends well... As for the lines??? Ah! Woe is me...

Image © Prof. Dibyajit Mukherjee

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Comments on this Poem

Bits and pieces of a lonely mind come together to create a plethora of angst and guilt....Oh bricoleur!! My bricoleur!!!

Anish Ganguly
16-Oct-2013 01:36 AM

Montage of The Inferiority Complex...

Shamik Bhattacharya
14-Oct-2013 10:38 AM