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592 · Aug 2016
'A Feminine Male'
Gourab Mukherjee Aug 2016
Seldom, that our society releases
Cares to evoke the trauma
Agony and pain, the members undergo
Dignity of their innate feelings remains unnoticed
ridicules and abuses of the sidelined community
Treated as untouchables,
Life passes through humiliation
Revenge what at all grows

Hardly they love
With their battered minds
Hair growth is prominent
a feminine male
Claps not at all appreciates
Voice that hoars
differ from the stereotype
Pronounced as 'Hizra'
Hopeless with their genital
Infertile is what left behind
***** is sore
struggle for survival

Habituated with the wilderness
Embraced the culture
Deviated their thoughts
Fear is what all pays
Takes the trick
Makes a move
Snatches a penny in a forcible manner
Sympathy could be shown
moral failure lies in the society's unwillingness
a mindset which
we have to change.

©Gourab Mukherjee'
325 · Jul 2016
"Moon was her name"
Gourab Mukherjee Jul 2016
The lady sets her eye on a kaleidoscope
To travel from her unsettled past
She hears the world with lots of hope
Got her eyes painted with lust
Lips demonstrated the passion of love
Ear rings charmed like a windchime
***** tortured mentally deviated
Craved her revenge on a porcelain wall
Sets her rage through a molten peace
Hangs around a grape vine
To rescue her emotions
Voice ego spirit was high
Like the mountains in the dark sky
Moon was her name
The chaos got ashamed
Waited in the midnight
To trail
Chased the meddler
Beneath the Holy bell
Cried out 'Oh Lord'
Serve me justice
On my divine soul

Gourab
308 · Aug 2016
"Dream for freedom"
Gourab Mukherjee Aug 2016
A sole body

Hair splitted

An aimless vagabond

face smeared with ash

shadows deeply prevail

marked as a vanquished anguish

Tears that fall downstream

touches her every despaired *****

With her very passionate words

Oh! words she said,

That collided horrifyingly in the amidst

of a pandemonium.

Her pair of sore ***** encored

that lay attached to her soul

pheromones muttered,

it echoed in the minds of lust;

yet alive in her dreams

knots tied to a field of scorn

still she dreams,

Dream for freedom.
279 · Jul 2016
'A Tired Addict'
Gourab Mukherjee Jul 2016
Neither I had respect for them
hardly I knew what were they
Breached my concerned motivation
Ultimate freedom from eternal salvation
I opposed it day by day
It still finds me in a new way
I hardly remember that lady
who passed me a disease to smoke daily
Curiosity what at all pays
The green leaves forever stays
It was a surpassed obligation
I tried to survive through meditation
Purely surprised with the effect of unknown potion
People call it "HALLUCINATION"
Being a stranger to myself
Hardly I opposed for a help
Meddler was the "MARIJUANA"
through which I attained 'Nirvana'
Suddenly after a strong realization
Succumb to temptation
Found a heavy drift towards it
Literally transformed into a revived kid
Found myself a vagary
With no sweet in this new jaggery
Lame with the new thoughts
And, still carrying on...

Gourab
261 · Jan 2017
Whiskey Lullaby
Gourab Mukherjee Jan 2017
The year ends finding my soul in a tarnished jar of whiskey,
slowly it breaths with pain saturated with carbon ‘MONO’oxide.
Deep down choked the throttle with miasma
lust cravings scratched the inner part of the bottle glass
nails splintered with a hazy outcast
all alone lies his deep soul
all it wants is a drop whiskey
Attenuate Affection …
246 · Jan 2017
“The Nearest Glare”
Gourab Mukherjee Jan 2017
The scary restless shadows of the tree
Seems like a broken chord from a chaotic life
Hushes the wind by engulfing it
O Mighty! the water tank stands
protecting the suspense of the thrill
in the dark night sky
Street Lamp is it?
Or the nearest glare
Illuminated the place
With no invisible trace
Sheer glance in the hollow medium of light
painting scars on the heaps of shadow
Small hut imposing a mark of rural life beneath
Covered up with a thin luminous sheet
Faith in the soothe lamp
Prevailing heartbeats from damp
237 · Aug 2016
To John Lennon,
Gourab Mukherjee Aug 2016
Just a tribute to serve
The years that I have spent ,
those were all kept on rent.
The lives as I have seen,
He is not just a martyr I ever dream.
His art what you see ,
its just a heaven above the tree.
Like the melody of a sweet child He cries,
nor for love just for peace, He tries.
Imagine what all He says,
when living for today has no space.
When you think your life has been torn
Just remember there’s a man to follow
whose name is John Lennon!
– Gourab Mukherjee
215 · Jan 2017
Pristine Collaboration
Gourab Mukherjee Jan 2017
A new genre of ideology
Got mixed in his blood
Innovative distinctive
Highly saturated
A strong bond
Yet remains as a vapour
Found solved mysteries
to irrational problems
Back in the blues
To find a new aura

— The End —