Two poems by Sushant Thapa

Belonging to the same basket

Rousing anthem out of silence

The music section of a mall 

Is pulsating like growing

Meditative happiness.

What silence begets

Is a cost

Unless the rain is musical. 

Reading Teju Cole continues

With a headphone on.

The Open City

Is like a Flâneur

Of Walter Benjamin.           

My city also wakes up

With me

It extends like a branch of

Caressing flower pot that

Hangs in silence,

In the living night

That is dead without

Me switching it on and off

Just to commemorate

My tribute to hungry eyes

Of passers-by

So their shadows speak. 

I bring them inside my room

In my act of

Playing with the switches

While playing with the night.

Light is a distance

To imagine

Loveless mirror

Kissing your parched lips.

You are my reader,

I am Teju Cole’s reader

This is a word hegemony

That rains snowflakes of freedom.

I walk beside my gazes

Looking every motes

And seeing only my life awaking.

The slumber of time

Needs to dress now.

I feel the music of the crowd,

There is a festive curtain billowing

One chapter of people,

Next the unread chapter

In a human basket.

The separation bleeds in

Timeless recollections,

Is timelessness not life beyond death

That is saved from hunger?

I search love in a time frame

When I am an outlaw soul,

Reaching the purgatory.

Life is made of fragments

To sit and relax,

The knife cannot cut the mind.

The Walking Rebel

The walker falls

And emerges victorious,

Learning to pluck the sun

Like a bouquet out of every day. 

The crawlers

Pursue tirelessly

To walk like the sun.

The sun do not have to fall.

The walking clutches

Is a logo of a rebel

Taking the world in stride.

I enjoy walking

To my job as a lecturer

Before I fall on the bog

Of “Materiality”

Inside my imparting English class.

As I walk

The stairs for towers of progress— 

The travails of mindful revolution

Is casted as a reality.

Every revolutionis staged

First on the streets—I

Love the freedom to walk,

On the way

It feels like every day is a holiday.