Glorification of revolution

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I belong to the generation
of indigenous revolution
of assorted fraction.

I fight for the blood
the blood that has clotted
where the sit-in protests are held
The real blood must flow again
I fight for the freebies
that come along with the swag
Why should the folks have all the fun?
Why should I keep looking
for cheap freedom that comes with government
for cheap whores in the border hamlets
for cheap thrills in the obscure jungles
when there are so many riches to rob
when there are so many AFSPA haters
when there are so many dais to show our might?

I belong to the generation
of indigenous revolution
of assorted fraction
in every filthy corners of Imphal
the lab of brutality and decadence
Beyond the vale, I'm just a piece of shit.

The comrades who read Trotsky are gone
as the ghosts to haunt around the foothills and riverbanks,
as the invisible guards at the morgue
My art of insurrection is written large
with red paints all over the town
— Kill or be killed
for only the fittest survives;
With guns and money, from natural selection.
For anything that I lack in intelligence
I make it up with dereliction.
In the hubbub of living
an 18th-century life in the 21st century
Reason is my enemy
Everywhere I turn, my friend receives me,
I belong to the generation
of indigenous revolution
of assorted fraction.

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" R E V O L U T I O N   N E V E R 

G O   B A C K W A R D S "

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