Five Poems by Goirick Brahmachari

Dimitri Otis/Getty Images

By Goirick Brahmachari 


You are like the winds breezing
Over my withering self
The end was always the beginning
Colours change
Into pixelated monochrome
Senses misinterpret
The signals, distorted
Memories of errors,
An age of aloneness
And Librium.
Like years of staring deep
Into a white page.


She appears and disappears

Like a childhood memory
Her skies are silver, her voice
Like that of the breeze.

She tells me tales of the forests
And secrets of the great seas
She knows the senses
Of life, death and other miseries

In the space between the note
And the sound, she hides;
She fights the norms around,
All she says is through her craft
She knows too much
To sound profound.


Encrypted insecurities

Empty dark roads without streetlights.
Dry leaves envelop the human filth.
All movements have been erased.

For once though the world seems to behave:
That doing nothing is also a task.

Utopia must have surely looked like this –
One that does not flow,
Or changes its course.
Still. Like life itself.

Only the mind plays
Video games.

Perceptions, shards of broken mirrors,
Prejudice: An image is an image after all.
The Self is in inverted colours.

Absence has been my only presence
Erasing, Erasing; unremembering;
Eroding is but just time.

First, the presence
Disappears, then the flesh and the smell,
Voices, then the cybernetic letters;
Meaninglessness, possessive obsession, detachment,
Blended astute, into a loud sound of feedback
Encrypted insecurities
Disjoint vocabularies
Visions of my bare inabilities


Here, no where

Always, you find ways
To stand beside, silently.
Almost unaware,
Of your angelic presence,
I watch the cold silver rain

Together we could
Change the colours of the words
Change the sharp meanings
Of colours, colourlessness
For all art must melt in sound

Your calmness of mind
Reflects the raven like streets
Stories from our past
Heals the lapse of the seasons
Let’s store the present, each day

Let’s store this presence,
Every passing day.



It drizzled for years
Till spring came

With shades of yellow
Each other’s childhood

Nightmares, memories
Escape routes
Self-inflicted pain

Pleasant, ugly and
Horror like

This seasoned body,
ageing soul,
had found a meaning

But, no sense prevails
to make sense.
I need some clarity now.

Originally from Silchar, Assam, Goirick B’s debut collection of poems, For the Love of Pork (Les Editions du Zaporogue, Denmark) won the Muse India-Satish Verma Young Writer Award for poetry in 2016. He is also the winner of prestigious Srinivas Rayaprol Poetry Prize, 2016. His chapbook of travel notes, Joining the Dots, was published by Nivasini Publishers, Hyderabad in 2017. His third book of poems, Wet Radio and other poemshas been published recently. His poems have appeared in Berfrois, Café Dissensus, Raiot and Nether, among others.


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Cafe Dissensus Everyday is the blog of Cafe Dissensus magazine, born in New York City and currently based in India. All materials on the site are protected under Creative Commons License.


Read the latest issue of Cafe Dissensus Magazine, “Travel Writing: A mode of constructing knowledge”, edited by Raeesa Usmani, Surat, India.

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