Six Prose Poems

by Debarun Sarkar

Hyderabad is the Center of India

I am told that Los Angeles is the center of the world. Hollywood is there. Nearby, in San Jose or San Francisco, I forget which Silicon Valley works tirelessly on databases. Hyderabad’s film industry makes movies in Telugu. Baahubali was recently the costliest movie ever made around here. If you go to Hyderabad, you will also know that no one sits around unemployed there, if you can at least read, write or speak English, Cyberabad opens up to you. It makes Hyderabad the center of India. I wonder where all the writers live in Hyderabad. 

I don’t want a Post Office

Aga Shahid Ali, I don’t want a fucking post office anymore. Kashmir doesn’t either. It’s good that you are dead. I can’t buy your books. I can’t afford them. I’ll pirate them. I don’t care, if your family dies starving. As if my money was all you needed. I’ll send a bomb to your graveyard instead of flowers, will that make you happy, wild heart?

 St. Paul is not po-mo

This is not an homage to St. Paul. This poem only wishes to announce once and for all to theorists or intellectuals or charlatans that they dare never call St. Paul a goddamn po-mo. He is the farthest thing from po-mo like Wong Kar-wai is from Tarantino. He believed, unlike theorists, intellectuals, charlatans.  

Jason Bourne is no Rebel

In Jason Bourne, he stands within a revolution and thinks about his father. Hollywood never promised a Communist revolution. A Leninist Bourne.

Road Movies, Road Poem

The highway sprawls across the landscape like those scenes reminiscent of American road movies. Except the trucks all have custom artworks and the diner is replaced with a dhaba. Road, Movie was probably correct. It is cinema which makes us believe in the drastic change of mood, character and temperament. If this poem was finished over a journey, would you have noticed the time, among the words or would you have thought it was written after the journey, whole?

Build me a Film Studio

Why don’t film stars, directors, producers and actors live in film studios? Why don’t they build a miniature city to their name, like raising kingdoms in the medieval era?

Debarun Sarkar sleeps, eats, reads, smokes, drinks, labors and occasionally writes and submits. He spends most of his time juggling between freelancing and writing while halting at Calcutta for the moment. Recent works have appeared in or are forthcoming in Visitant, Off the Coast, Literary Orphans, Tittynope Zine, The Opiate, among others.

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