Drunk at Baneshwor

Between new and old Baneshwor
A thin line exists
That pushes me to the other side of the painting:
Splashing its contours, destroying what’s left;
Words screaming out from the Millennium zenith
I couldn’t even curse in French or language that I’d create on own
Suddenly smokes emerge
From the chambers of heart and soul
And boom—
Clouds of smoke,
Lights out
And my mind is on fire,
Can you sense what’s being done?
Speech sinking
Heart sinking
What shall I do this time to stay afloat?
Stitch images that no longer wish to remain stitched?
Da dum da dum da dum
That’s the sound of a heart breaking
Not into pieces
But into innumerable bubbles
And a child inside me pokes all of them
Go straight, turn left, turn right
Go up
Sit on a chair
Order 30ml whiskey with ice
And wait for dreams to come to you
But it never comes
A life inside lives
A mind inside minds
What can be undone?
A hush a silence
Four hands carrying a bloody revolving machine
Shaking like earthquake is inside you
Eyes sinking
Heart sinking
And the glass mock you too
Da dum da dum
What’s that sound?
Arun Budhathoki

Drunk at Basantapur

Three cups fail to balance
Sanity and drunkenness,
Spewing words of aggression and hatred
Cursing the Nepali Judas,
Did he shake hands with the Devil?
Three more glasses
The world comes in crashing
Three more glasses
The world comes in crashing
And the drinking never stops
Three more glasses
Three more sips
And the mouth stretches like the gulf
Between sanity and insanity
Between faithfulness and betrayal
And why wouldn’t these two drink to their madness?
Their faces blurred from the glowing mirror
Their memories almost erased
And the drinks keep coming
While I stare at the dead mannequins
Their rotting flesh
And I curse at them
As I march towards the future that I make on own
And hips wobble
Almost collapsing
Like the house of cards that we built
And ran away to not see it being torn down
In dreams
I throw away the bottles that I will never drink
I puke like I’ll never puke
I’d smell of alcohol like I’d never again
In dreams
I curse the rotting mannequins
And perform a mancraft on them
Stabbing their bleak future
Laughing hysterically
As they fall from the sky
Poached; raw,
Suits you well, bastards.
Arun Budhathoki

रक्सी खान सजिलो

१. रक्सी पसल जानु,
एउटा सस्तो बिएर किन्नु, घर गएर चेल्सीको गेम हेर्दै खानु

२. साथीलाई न्युरोडमा भेट्न अगि दुई ग्लास रक्सी खानु
अनि टेम्पोमा चढेर खै कता पुग्नु

३. माया लगाउनु भन्दा काम गर्न सजिलो
काम गर्न भन्दा काम चोर हुन् सजिलो
काम चोर हुनु भन्दा पैसा कमाउन सजिलो
पैसा कमाउन भन्दा पैसा खर्च गर्न सजिलो
पैसा खर्च गर्न भन्दा भौतिकवादी हुन सजिलो
भौतिकवादी हुन भन्दा काम गर्न सजिलो
काम गर्न भन्दा रक्सी पिउनु सजिलो
रक्सी पिउनु भन्दा पानी खानु सजिलो
पानी भन्दा हावा निल्नु सजिलो
हावा भन्दा सपना देख्न सजिलो
सपना भन्दा बिलाउनु सजिलो
बिलाउनु भन्दा अस्तित्वबिहिन हुन सजिलो
अस्तित्वबिहिन हुनु भन्दा स्वर्गीय भावमा डुब्न सजिलो
जे जति सजिलो भएपनि रक्सी खानु सजिलो

४. जे सजिलो भएपनि ग्लासमा रक्सी हाल्नु सजिलो
मानवता देखाउनु भन्दा भट्टी र बार जना सजिलो
भत्केको घर बनउनु भन्दा घुस खान सजिलो
गरिबलाई सहयोग गर्नु भन्दा कठोरमनको हुन् सजिलो
देशलाई बिकास गर्नु भन्दा देश छोड्न सजिलो
आत्मानिर्भर हुन भन्दा दान माग्न सजिलो
बत्ती बाल्न भन्दा ज्योति निभाउन सजिलो
जे जति सजिलो भएपनि रक्सी खानु सजिलो

५. इज्जत हराउनु भन्दा सरम पचाउन सजिलो
सोचलाइ अपनाउन भन्दा धर्म मान्न सजिलो
मान्छेलाई माया गर्न भन्दा नदेखेको भगवानलाई माया गर्न सजिलो
नदेखेको मान्छेलाई भन्दा मुर्तिलाई माया गर्न सजिलो
कसैलाई मायागर्नु भन्दा आफुलाई घृणा गर्न सजिलो
आफुलाई भन्दा अरु रंगको मानिसलाई घृणा गर्न सजिलो
अरु रंगको भन्दा अरु देशको मानिसलाई घृणा गर्न सजिलो
अरु देशको भन्दा अर्कै ग्रहको मानिश्लाई घृणा गर्न सजिलो
अरु ग्रहको भन्दा अर्कै मण्डलको मानिसलाई घृणा गर्न सजिलो
जे जति सजिलो भएपनि रक्सी खानु सजिलो

६. काम भन्दा माया गर्न कठिन
काम गर्न भन्दा जिउनु मुस्किल
जिउनु भन्दा सास फेर्न कठिन
सास फेर्न भन्दा जीवनको परिभाषा बुझ्न मुस्किल
जे जति सजिलो, कठिन भएपनि रक्सी खानु सजिलो
जे जति सजिलो भएपनि रक्सी खानु सजिलो


Africa Africa Africa
In my mind (the whole night)
It rang left to right
Throughout the ancient veins

A face appeared
(I thought it had gone surgery)
The face from St John
Is now lost apparently

With the chopsticks that I threw on the shore of Irving Park
The lips I no more remember
The grandeur palms of nothingness

I am on the edge of sanity and insanity
I divert and covert
I am both

Last night I found myself
At the Capital Complex in Fredericton
Where three candles lit brightly
While I gazed at a bizarre painting
Where a bear or an alien walked with a human
I think to this point

Last decade I wrote a poetry about getting drunk in love
Without drinking

This time I say I am drunk without love but by drinking
Budweiser, Rickard’s red and water
The combination of madness, loneliness and stupidity

I painted a pathway for myself
Where I could walk without fear and sanity
If I had lost reason I would simply put myself in the rewind mode
And get back to where I didn’t even start

Sun had gone down, blame it.

The trouble didn’t end there
Downward the basement existed
Where drums cello saxophone guitar keyboard
And magical instruments played music unknown
I guess it was country
I really don’t like that genre
And standing standing for a long time
I entered a realm full of stars

Stars everywhere
On her shoes
On the floor
Inside my mind

My mind exploding ruthlessly
My face hit with unknown sorrow and sadness

But I overheard someone say,
‘You’re Africa,’

I must be a radical
I must write a rebellious poetry

I cannot continue writing about lines that no one can fathom
I cannot continue writing about lines that cannot make anyone drunk

Yes, last night I was drunk
Drunk with silliness
Drunk with insanity
Drunk with craziness
Drunk with madness

Outside the Poutine’s

I grabbed a golden-haired girl’s cigarette
And threw inside my mouth
The smoke went inside me
Her too, not really.

I inhaled centuries of madness
I inhaled centuries of injustices
I inhaled centuries of segregation

I speak English
Je parl la francaise (Dear French speakers, is this correct?)

Divide me by your languages
Divide me by your races
Divide me by your colors
Divide me by your citizenship, permanent residency, temporary foreign workers, and international students
Divide me however you want to
For your pleasure, Sir and Madam,
Oui, merci beaucoup

I walked to and fro
Asking people silly insensible questions

Why is that green?
Who invented the fork?
Is that English?
Why does money exist?

I was drunk by questions that haunts me every day
Why injustices and madness do exists?

Why do I exist?
Why the world exists even if I am not here?

The trees are wild again
Last night it was snowy again
April is not the cruelest month
Winter is the cruelest thing in Canada

I have home in my mind

And I’d like to return one step at a time

I have hit rock bottom
Let my soul get drowned in messy sketches

I have become drunk
I am this surreal paint

My mind nonetheless functions abruptly

If I still can reason

I will finish the last paper
Because I am drunk with fear and admonition

Because I am drunk to kill illogical sorrow

But there’s no sorrow

It is just my mind
That floats

Like hopeless clouds
Tomorrow the sun will shine
Snow will melt
And I will write a revolutionary poem.

This night is drunk again.

I hate beer bottles.