The Swashbuckler And His Bulging Ego

Don't question my radical views
That keeps imploding like a bazooka
To give you the shock wave of
Impertinent disturbances
With sonic boom

The pressure, temperature and density of my conviction
Could feel like a long walk for you through the narrowest passage
At the end of sewer smelling intestine writhing odor

I am a swashbuckler
I am a fanatic
Or some call me lunatic
But that doesn't make me change
An iota in my belief

My ideas begin with sentences
That have dislodged all the question marks
Dashes, colons, semi-colons or full stops
My ideas are unlike Marx, Hegel or Descartes
The geometry of their conic projection
Has always created parentheses
Of dots and exclamation marks!

Have you noticed a pastry maker?
Rubbing creams on the cake
Which he baked on the oven
Fetching it hot on the table
To start his modus operandi
But, the modus Vivendi of his
Recipe got rejected in the
Auditioning round with
Plenty of jeering from the judges!

Or have you seen an avant garde lyricist
Drawing and scribbling lines
In middle of his wet dream
Of fucking with his stream
Of tantalizing thought
To give his producer a perfect hand job
But, when he has sleep blip
Shuttering his prism of dots
He realizes he penned the lyrics
In nowhere and no one to show

That is me
The Swashbuckler
The fanatic
The lunatic
The unorthodox
Me.

My colleagues label me as a thing from trash bin
My neighbors sneeze at the very sight of me
My friends treat me as the butt of their jokes
Some of them have even posted different memes
About me on Instagram, Twitter and Facebook

I don't mind their inability
For failing to fathom the radical me
I don't want them to apologize either
They are like the duplicate products
Imported from the Chinatown
Flooding the local markets
Or a shop at the corner in town alley

The beauty of me is that
I do not like to define me
Not to confine me
Not to integrate me
With this normal parentheses
Of dashes and dots
Underline and pause
Which make us all sit with comfort

If you want to know me
You need to examine carefully
All my methods from hysterical perspective
But be careful, I guarantee that won't be easy
You might end up having heart attack
On the heap of books, encyclopedias
On the table of your local library
Still could not unravel any clue of me
My methods can infect the whole world
With a new virus that is yet to be detected
My methods can give you blue cheese surprise
In the middle of your midnight romantic expedition

My instruction to the whole world is that
I am not a philosopher neither a reformer
Rather, I am a bug-bearer or a boogeyman
Determined to apply my rhapsodic potion
To unhinge you with peculiar emotion
My poetry will not sustain in your stomach
My fiction will infest your brain with Carpe Diem
So there is the question who is me, myself and I?
Who keeps annoying with his parentheses of
No questions, dashes, exclamation marks, brackets
Underlines or full stops but a big perpetuation of I!

The wankiness of your approach is the problem
To connect the galaxy of stars orbiting like a toddler
Which ends up in the recess of your satellite watchdog

That is another piece of puzzle
For me to solve
Which is why I will stand
With my bulging ego
As a swashbuckler, fanatic,
Unorthodox and lunatic
With my unbending principles!

by Hasan Maruf

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