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Karnas TickroBlog

Sunday, 12 October 2008


AS A BONUS, dear Readers, here is the sequel to the previous poem. But first, here is the story of why I wrote them:

When I was a lieutenant in Her Majesty's Royal Army, I was stationed in India. This land promised an extension of our great Empire and brought many opportunities, especially to our more seasoned officers. All day, they would laze about in the shade of an umbrella, their wide, bushy white moustaches quivering from the humidity, eating their sweets and sipping West Bengalese Darjeeling. This was the rest they deserved after long, tedious careers of attending royal parties thrown by influential aristocrats and marching up and down the square.

Anyways, once, I had the honour of shaking hands and having a cup of tea with none other than royal adviser and former Prime Minister Benjamin Disraeli. I have, alas, forgotten most of the details (for what we spoke of was droll and of little interest to me). I can tell you this, however: I was thinking of my wife back in England, and it was for her that these two poems were written. My pretty little Eleanor, with eyes like daffodills and hair like the Summer sun. Whose skin was soft and radiant like the sky above. Either her or the beautiful native courtesan girl I had buggered when we crossed through Badnur.

An Inquest (Part II)

Depression. Gloom. Dust. Blood.
Tears; Streaming from a picture,
Smeared. Ruined voices in a bowl

Devestation. Things aren't as they seem.
Words flowing through the air.
Restitution of oneself. Retribution in of oneself,
In fear

Revolt. The overthrow.
Wonderous battles in your mind,
For the greater good; to realise

Volume. Louder, by the second. A noise,
The sound of your voice, softly.
Utter what is, what is not. Somewhere.
Someday. Sometime

Venomous. Sharp and painless.
Elastic looks; craving. The expressions burn,
An unyielding desire

Carnal. Urge. Lust.
Senses lead to nervous actions,
For tonight. Why not always?
They are ours to share

Sickness. Love. Care.
Think. This may go on beyond.
What's next? Has the good come?
I've said it before, dear.
It has already come

[That is all]

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