Dear Poet Friends, the famous Coffee House is located opposite Presidency College (my alma mater) at Calcutta, it was set up during the British days, initially known as The Albert Hall. However, this poem has been inspired by an old Bengali song . Hope you will like it. Thanks, – Raj Nandy

MEMORIES OF COFFEE HOUSE OF OUR
                      STUDENT DAYS

Those nostalgic memories and our colorful dreams have
receded with the past.
Our regular evening meetings at the Coffee House has
flown with time’s arrow, - since nothing lasts!
Be it summer, monsoon, or winter, we had regularly met,
To exchange notes and gossip, even heated discussions
use to take place.
Our old friend Nikhelesh had left for Paris, and Moidul
settled in Dacca, as I last heard.
Guitarist D’Souza of the Hotel Grand now lies buried in a
walled cemetery next to a church.
Betrayed in love singer Reena Roy is spending her days in
a lunatic asylum alas!
While Amol suffered from a raging cancer, life had proved
merciless for him till the very last!
Renuka was perhaps the happiest amongst us all, having
married a millionaire husband as I have been told.
She lives in a luxurious bungalow covered in jewelry of
diamond and gold.
Sanyal of Art College who drew pictures for an Ad Agency
those days,
With wide eyes listened to the narrations of Runa Roy, the
amateur actress, during those Coffee House days.
Long haired Basir, the amateur poet, has been forgotten in time;
None of his poems got published, his talents had remained
unrecognized!
Between sips of coffee and cigarette smoke heated arguments
use to take place.
Topics ranging from politics, poetry, art and football, were
very popular even in those days.

Those black round wooden tables and chairs still remain
unchanged to this very day.
But with the passing of time the faces of its occupants have
all changed, as generations have faded away.
Thus the cycle of life revolves as new flowers bloom.
But the Coffee House shall continue to last through many
a moon.
                                                           ­      -By Raj Nandy of New Delhi.

My title is “POTUS” and America’s great.
My pardoning power can change people’s fate.
I commuted the sentence of a granny in jail
Who’d been locked up for years for a busted drug sale.
I Pardoned Jack Johnson long after he’d died,
for his crime of having a white ******* the side.

Dinesh D’Souza was an interesting case;
He defied crooked Hillary -who put him in his place.
His “Get out of Jail” card I granted with glee.
Perhaps his next movie will be about me.

I pardoned a sailor who’d fallen from grace;
He worked in a Sub and took films of the place.
I forgave Joe Arpaio and relieved his distress
at having a jail cell as his forward  address.

It’s True Scooter Libby was technically free;
His sentence commuted by my peer “43”.
Now Scooter’s pardoned; absolved of his crime.
It was worth it to hear liberal Democrats whine.

It’s been said that with Russians I basely connived
to secure my election to become “45”.
If Mueller should dig up some dirt on my “crime”
I’ll just pardon myself and thank him for his time.

War and music
The two clouds that limply hung on a blue sky had dust on
and reminded me of the worthless nick knack people put on mantelpieces.
People can’t bear empty spaces and stillness, they have to fill it
With useless objects and bland music, like wiener waltzes that is easy to
The ear and can be to dance to, even by men in uniforms;
But do not demand much of the dancer or listener other than jingoistic pride.
It gone darker the limp clouds had been but spies,
Bulldozer louds came ready to fill in war trenches burying hapless soldiers
Led by officers that didn’t now of modern warfare; and in drowning screams
The music continued loud, clear and from a younger
continent, Souza marches I think.

Peter (my bf) is coming to town - tonight. I’m breathy with excitement.
My energy is so sick. “Someone scrape her off the walls,” Leong remarked, as I bounded out of my room this morning.
Lisa winced, holding her hand up, as if to block the sun, “You never smile in the morning.”   “And she’s humming,” Sunny observed.
“I’m not,” I started, then after a pause I amended, “yeah, I guess I was.”

I’m not just happy, I’m some new kind of happy. It’s been too long.
I’m swinging a school’s-out, pre-Christmas, free iced-latte vibe.
I’ve been on the busiest stretch, clearing my schedule. I have to define my thesis this semester. Argh!

But I’m ready for some bf fun. I’ve changed my sheets, hidden the general mess and God, even vacuumed.
That’s very un-university-like behavior - believe me.
As down as I was last Friday night, from tanking that quiz, that’s how up I am now.

Speaking of that quiz, the only way to deal with a fret is to exorcize it, defeat it, vanquish it. I stalked the TA after class last Tuesday, finally cornering him, like a wounded animal at his desk.
“I tanked last week’s quiz,” I admitted, which sounded way more whiny out loud than it did in my head.
“Vionet, right?” He’d asked rhetorically, already clicking his keyboard to bring up the grade sheet.
“Are there any extra cred..” I began. “You got an 88,” he interrupted me. “Yeah, but,” I’d begun again
“That’s a B,” he’d deadpanned in a low, ‘why do I have to talk to idiots,’ voice.
“Yeah, but,” I’d began freshly, only to be re-interrupted.
“A weekly quiz,” he’d said, “like a hundredth of your grade.”  
“A B,” I began, shaking my head side to side in a ‘no’ way, but I’d smiled ingratiatingly too - I was going to win this guy over.
“You’re way too tightly wound,” he’d snarked, insensitively.
I opened my mouth to speak again when he said “OUT,” twisting his head to nod towards the door.
“You don’t,” I began, only to have him give me a teen-like, wide-eyed look as he nodded again at the door.
So, I flounced out, giving a silent voice to my indignation.
Bureaucracies.
.
.
Songs for this:
Take Off Ur Pants by Indigo De Souza
Kool Thing by Sonic Youth
.
.
Our cast
Peter, (My bf), is a bearded, 27-year-old from the sage hills of Malibu, California. He’s 6’1, too thin, his jet-black hair is perpetually uncombed and his skin is pale from over exposure to fluorescent lighting. He earned his PhD in Applied Physics last year and now he works for CERN in Geneva. He’s smart, quiet, awkward and he can be too serious. I’m unreasonably cRaZy about this guy.

Lisa, (roommate) 21, my bff and Manhattanite ‘glamor girl’ (who’d bristle at that description but it’s hundo-p true.) who grew up in a 50th floor Central Park South high-rise. A (pre-med) molecular biophysics and biochemistry major.

Leong, (roommate) 21, a ‘molecular, cellular, and developmental biology major,’ is from Macau, China - the Las Vegas of Asia and she’s a proud communist (don’t knock it til you’ve tried it). Growing up, I lived in Shenzhen China (about 30 miles from Macau) we both speak Cantonese (maybe why we were paired?) and we're able to talk a lot of secret trash together.

Sunny, (suitemate) 21, a (pre-med) molecular, cellular, and developmental biology major, is a cowgirl from Nebraska (seriously, she has a quarter horse and barrel races). She’s an outspoken fem-facing ladies-lady.

Your author, a simple country girl from Athens, Georgia is also a (pre-med) molecular biophysics and biochemistry major.

Perverting the presidential power
Of pardon isn't hard to do
When you're Trump and the FBI
Happens to be your bugaboo.

Corner a rat, and it will attack.
Corner Trump, and he'll lash out.
Take your pick of how many
Institutions he will flout.

It's easy to see that when you have
So many crooks and thugs in your nook,
Observers will start to conclude that you--
Surprise!--also look like a crook.

Trump: the great manipulator.
Watch how he begs, steals, and barters.
Watch how proud he is at how
He can create victims and martyrs.

Arpaio, Libby, D'Souza and others--
Some convicted of the same
Crimes that people surrounding Trump
Might be charged with. What's his aim?

If Trump's people maintain their silence
And keep investigators guessing,
After they've served their master well,
The dangling pardon will be their blessing.

Another attack on our judicial
System is Trump's current M.O.
A pardon a day keeps trouble away
In Trump's daily reality show.

-by Bob B (6-1-18)