Veracity is lost in the vicious cities.

Beauty is a battle against wrinkles.

Untrue realities veil the absurdities.

In the smoky sky no star twinkles.

Vice has become virtue and virtue vice.

Words on dusty pages are eaten by mice.

Hands are insubstantial like grains of sand.

Voiceless crowds are as alone as islands.

On lonely beds are found broken finger-nails

And flaccid fingers without any ring.

A smell of emptiness out of nowhere always prevails.

Lips neither kiss nor sing.

Mindless bodies dance in the hotel bars.

Closed eyes wake up in the psychedelic domain.

Sleep is disturbed by the horns of cars.

Memories move away through a dirty drain.

Days and nights come and go, and again do come.

Hearts are beating but souls feel numb.

Quests for Satyam, Shivam, Sundaram

Are thwarted by life’s hollow humdrum.

~ Swapnajeet Das

Kolkata, India