SICK LIT MAGAZINE

An Anthem for a Warlord  

(Published in the 2015 Issue 11 of Bunbury Magazine)

 

You were both a father and a husband

with genuine affection,

earning the honour of being claimed responsible

Because your family was placed in

the fabulous fashions of overseas

Yet you failed in understanding

both roles,

when the children and wives of those like you

decomposed into pieces at the blazing barrage,

and at the cataract of bullets

while the bloody rain was pouring in maroon brilliance

Undoubtedly,

in the blood sport,

you richly deserve the gold medal

That all happened over and over again,

while you were enjoying

champagne on the top of the world

Nor did you see thousands drowned in death

Nor did you hear their death bark

Instead, your eyes were dancing to the music

of the earphone

and you were lying on the cushion bed

The horror never came to you

It was just like a violent and barnstorming fight in a film

The magnitude of your selfishness

and your infinite sadism

that kept a whole nation under torment,

leaving an inexhaustible number of innocents dead

How could the earth bear this anymore?

Buddhist literature illustrates,

Nor will the earth bother any more

to hold eccentric sinners like you on it

Instead it will splinter itself into two,

and will swallow you at a single gulp

Yet you may seem to be a terrific ghoul

even at the inside of the earth

That’s why,

the great earth also dreads you.

 

 

 

 Panorama, Relentless

(Published in the 2015 Issue 11 of Bunbury Magazine)

 

Though not worthy of poetic exploration,

the epidemic has risen into a gigantic cataract

with the power of overtaking the whole island

And its rampant vampirism,

quite sickening

Incapable, I am, of being in captivity any longer,

and so, must run along the streets

and bring out a volley of protest

against the gallows structured everywhere

and the deadening cactus growing uncontrolled

Shrapnel scattered here and there

Blood sodden corpses

demand a calculator to be counted

Just take this year, 2009

First the Sirasa TV station,

then Lasantha and so on and so forth

 

A mounting number, threatened and flagellated

Pus is already spilling out of the boil

The blinding pitiless sun,

the only eye witness to the insupportable injustice

No longer will he dive in the continuing callousness

and may diffuse barbed, piercing rays

to tear the mobsters and

heal the wound on humanity

with the amazing brilliance of his light!

 

Kattadiya

(Published in the 2015 Issue 11 of Bunbury Magazine)

 

Superhuman power possessing juggler

A wonderfully inimitable creation of god

A source of hero worshipping for the village folk

remedying the issues of any sort

 

In digging out the treasures

enshrined by ancient sovereigns,

he performs the offering of immolation

that demands blood and flesh

A beast or a human happens to be the hapless victim

The hen’s neck is cut down fiercely

while the circling headless body

wriggles flopping its wings

Or an innocent person

will be doomed to be a headless corpse

 

The Bali Thovilaya is quite fearful

In case of incurable sicknesses,

generally called the god’s illnesses

A person in guise of a fearful devil

gives a horrific dance,

too awkward to explain in words

 

If the matter is a love affair

to be broken,

only a hair from each partner

is what the Kattadiya asks for

Then he fills it with the powers of his mantra

and resultantly,

in the hearts of once inseparable lovers

there flares a fury,

so grave to devour each other

 

Very pithy is the Hooniyama,

of which the repercussion is a far worse crime

Deterioration of wealth bathed millionaires

into penniless mendicants,

at the stroke of engraving in a pit,

a concoction of camphor, incense and

the ashes of a cremated body

 

Some cases require

a newly buried corpse

Playing midnight games with the dead

in graveyards,

the Kattadiya performs the puja

 

Occasionally he knifes some limes

chanting a ritualistic incantation

A stuttering and an almost

panic stricken recitation

 

A richly fertile mind

prophesying the future

as if seeing the looming spectacle

 

Sadly misguided,

almost like maniacs

A pointless mess

pushing the door open

to a society,

morally impoverished.

Indunil Madhusankha is currently an undergraduate reading for a BSc Special Degree in Mathematics at the Faculty of Science of the University of Colombo. Even though he is academically involved with the subjects of Mathematics and Statistics, he also pursues a successful career in the field of English language and literature as a budding young researcher, reviewer, poet and content writer. Basically, he explores the miscellaneous complications of the human existence through his poetry by focussing on the burning issues in the contemporary society. Moreover, Indunil’s works have been featured in several international anthologies, magazines and journals.