MISSING THE LAST FLIGHT OUT
Don’t know why the dickens we are standing on the wet street
Under the sad lamps. Even the strays are nowhere to be seen.
Show’s over, last call for fiery toddy done, this is no place to be.
I told you, didn’t I, we should have taken that last flight to JFK.
There is nothing here for us, Sidney, you can’t even die nobly.
DEAD DREAM, LIVING
Sulphur and ash in lungs
Dark snot as long as memory
Line items of invoices, rewards
Read revolution, forget life.
Wax poetic about moons and stars.
Offline, count houses and cars.
Kaustuv Ghosh is an immigrant, technologist and believer in decentralization and the virtues of difficult concepts. He contributes poetry to The Poetry Palace, The Story Hall and The Creative Cafe (all on Medium) and has been published in the Singapore Poetry blog. His work has been accepted in the forthcoming issue of the Versification Poetry Zine. Kaustuv lives in Singapore with his painter wife.