zombies of the metropolis
i walked through her smelly
alleys, most of the time looking for nothing-
through her dilapidated overhead bridges
that always smelled of piss
where the street kids were lying half-dead-
stoned out of their mind;
probably some cheap alcohol,
chemical vapes and life.
the biggest vacuum is probably
the eyes with prematurely
aborted innocence. an ache personalized
inside, and quietly became
one with the overcast infinity of doom.
in a metropolis, you can find zombies
everywhere. some of them
work in corporations, and some
die on the streets before they are born.
a zen master named kathmandu
kathmandu has always been a god,
or a zen master, or the archetypa,
old wise man
that carl jung frequently talked about;
aloof, watchful and kind-
it is but us, carrying wars
in our head each day
squirming like little selfless
agents inside the simulation of some
professor’s cellular automata-
unable to keep pace with
our sacred streets, and water coming
straight out from the holy heights.
A retired existentialist, part-time nothingologist and a full-time engineer/lecturer, Sudeep Adhikari’s poetry has appeared in many literary magazines around the world. Also a Pushcart Prize nominee for the year 2018, his fifth book of poetry “despair is a mandelbrot set” is forthcoming through Weasel Press, USA.