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An accidental acronym


Kullabidhu loves making money
more than he loves making love with his wife,
and he digs plenty a money from the underground reservoir,
stocked at the middle of the main market;

And Angomjao hates the tank
more than the feudal minister's fear
of being disowned by dry chappati.
“In the tank,” he bemoaned, “we have buried our thoughts…
now we have lost ourselves in the pitfall.”

Nevertheless they live as neighbours;
both of them consorted happiness defines life’s essence,
and that sadness filters the meaning.

Good things they love,
they have it in their own ways.
What good a life is, if it is not about the good things anyway;

Life’s always in a motion,
so do their respective businesses,
while their fellow men gallop for charity cases at a rhythmic speed,
displaying those of Khori Phaba’s grace on a pony, playing polo

Expression they show it in their own way too,
in several ways, for the wasted:
those who demanded freedom
and now who demands only money;
and for the ennui that ever looms into the skies

In their land, day and night measure the clock.
Time is marked when Kullabidhu gets drunk with his riches;
and when Angomjao is intoxicated in nothingness

Posterity is best left to the wild imagination
— they will learn the ways of life when they got here.
So few of them, so lucky are they who are secured
by those prepared with stolen silver spoons.
That so meager!

An acronym to describe the whole land
— this will be too profane,
but the more it is the talk
about magic potion to cure the ills galore,
the better it is left unsaid

Kangleipak’s just a name now;
any attempt to imply its historicity means
Kullabidhu got his funds from the Taliban
and Angomjao's an outlaw of nothingness
who pisses on the wall of the assembly building.
That's ridiculous.


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Puff
On
This
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