Rijan Britanicus Acharya
Virus Disgrace
Has corona entered my nose?
I am feeling nose being poked.
Hell no its pricking dust
i am not in sweeping game
in this conservative walls pulling over
Eyes of sons of men
like tyrants hosting my soul and heart.
Who the virus is that man?
am i free not born like sparrow.
Make hell in me like soiled liberty.
Who you virus pact man fill me
On the sagging pockets like hungry squirrel.
Damnable command! I duck your words
blahman you hold my mouth?
Hell is in your feet. I don’t give a pinch
to you of my winged life to die in your plight.
I break my hands on my mates
and drink thousand beer to drown
self in solitude of the conjuring ears
mind floating in dark roots of my veins
clustered with the entangled spears.
Aye! what crap you listening
I ask. Maria Bot plays Hip Hop. I’m done
Too drowsy. I say. Aye! Maria, is
Siri like more sweet or tangy over you?
Not at all i mean she is sweet.
Maria sweeps the case of mind
All dust of thoughts are merged in nothing.
I don’t know I say. Maria is Bot.
What race Maria?
Hell to my Botrace i am like E black.
I am done. I sleep.
You hate my asking Maria.
Yep. I am no man in mood
i am myself. Don’t rush my mind
you human, butchered by own imagination.
—Submitted on 09/12/2020
Rijan Britanicus Acharya is a Nepali poet whose work appears in the biannual journal Of Nepalese Clay. He work as a tutor.
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