“The Millenials”, “he is no surprise” and “a Boxer’s beginning, at the end”

Three poems by Komal Keshran

The Millenials

Beyond the scope of sight, there lies a single unseen trick
Men will not discover these trails
Women will see them in their dreams
Deductions are made and we are shipped back into the world
We are nothing more than objects
We fill cards with information we blindly give importance to
And we do not bother to seek what lies beyond this earth
Wonders filled this world before man and woman
And here we rot waiting for the next great revelation to be said
Here we rot waiting for the next revolution to be made
That single sleight is waiting to be sought out
But instead we stare at our light-emitting slabs
And look at things we’ve seen before
Read stories that happened before

We have never happened before.
Why aren’t we making magic?

he is no surprise

like the flavour of your mother's curry
he lingers on your tongue
he is the stuff you leave between your teeth until it is time to meet the
brush again
he is the name on your cold lips, so cold you wonder if the Ice Queen
herself lingered there previously
he is the essence of your sleep but you cannot hope to find him within
your dreams
he is the beginning of your every sentence but you cannot hope to reach
the end for you fear you will meet him again
he is everything you hope for but alas he is nothing more.
In this solemn country, they force his name unto your shaky words as if to counter was a sin -
because in their eyes, to have no God is the biggest sin of them all.

a Boxer’s beginning, at the end

Palms blistered
by the wraps I don for hours
Nails clipped so short
there is no room for lacquer
From beyond the ground emerges a golden glow
from where it reeks of beer and blood
The stench of sweat and victory is all that fills me
Mudland rain catches all the colours
that glow neon in the night
And projects them far, far beyond sight
Shirt tucked under my bra
so the sweat drips turn cold
Vinyl so tight that I almost choke
People move about and touch each other like friends
Down here, love among heroes knows no ends
Hands hold glass bottles that could shatter any minute
Oh, the elixir within them couldn’t possibly taste like the current
of the river that I will go to wash my sins away in
It occurs to me that sound in the distance is a raven
This is goodbye, I say to the stadium
As I leave for the water, another cold beginning.

About the Author

Komal Keshran

Youngin with a vision to change the world via art.