What other than carbohydrates n proteins do we need as humans to live?
Is food clothing & shelter all we conspire for all our lives?
More or less, you might say. How then would money fit into the equation or power or jealousy?
Redemption is easy when one asks the questions. But can anyone really be redeemed, I only wonder.
Believing in religion & having a world view at the same time is nearly impossible. Just as having traits like hunger for power & recognition of hypocrisy together -as something deserving contempt. The conflicting ideas humans harbor in their lives are woven inextricably in their fabric of existence. The design of existence would never have been complete otherwise. The machinery of existence wouldn’t have continued so unceasingly if humans weren’t made of this duality. That’s survival of the highest form, against the most extreme of conditions. The capacity to murder somebody or somebody’s right to freedom or their right to life & the tenderness that birth or creation elicits, is what keeps the human race going, always moving forward.
Highly populated countries experience the tenderness of birth to its purest extent; however, they are disparate within themselves & are unaware of their own dual nature.
Animals shy away from complicating their lives further than necessary, for survival, food & then maybe shelter. Any other complex emotion that they experience is isolated for birth. Even there the complexity arises because of the idea of survival, but for the survival of something of you through another.
So then why should war & strife be considered an evil & birth a boon? There cannot exist one without the other or shall I say ‘we’ won’t exist one without the other.
An act of creation should be as pondered upon as an act of war would ideally have been. We have forgotten what the birth of another individual entails. With dulled attitudes & superficial lives lead within the strict unseen borders of society, we have reduced birth to a mere rite, a necessary celebration for the passage into another phase of life. Numb to contempt & rife with only self preserving love, youngsters grow like the grass on a rich mans soil. Watered & cared for but being only an ornament, a passé meal for a drugged eye.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Thursday, September 6, 2007
placeboness
to speak of the emptiness resting on the vast landscape ahead belies relief,
re-emphasizes capsized existance, regurgitates guilt & apathy.
but to not speak of it, is to sink into yellowing time with sandstorms that threaten to erase life by wrapping it in folds of lost grainy time.
precious sand slips out from clenched fingers.
dried bones swelter weakly under the magnanimous sun, itching to burst into flames. flames born to be useless.the palette slumbers among lifeless shades of summer.
the fruit lies shrivelled & dead, yearning for a mirage of inspiration.
re-emphasizes capsized existance, regurgitates guilt & apathy.
but to not speak of it, is to sink into yellowing time with sandstorms that threaten to erase life by wrapping it in folds of lost grainy time.
precious sand slips out from clenched fingers.
dried bones swelter weakly under the magnanimous sun, itching to burst into flames. flames born to be useless.the palette slumbers among lifeless shades of summer.
the fruit lies shrivelled & dead, yearning for a mirage of inspiration.
Sunday, July 8, 2007
And Eternity Passed
christianity expects people to exist with a degree of seriousness that envies a monks'.
in fact so does intellectualism, existentialism, socialism & the many other isms produced from the human society. of these existentialist being the base for all other isms, so, a worthier goal to choose from among the rest. to deal with its pointlessness is to unravel each an every mystery lying hidden under every other rock. Soon one becomes cupid dressed in flowing robes, with a silver sword forged in the depths of his soul & the commanding speech of wise oak trees, waltzing around the busy battlefields overturning dead rocks, only to find apsaras of truth wrapped in a delicacy of sublime skins revealing themselves to you in every moment of your quest.
During the journey, the worldly wise ask for the answers & you shake your head truthfully convinced about the inevitability of everything! and there, isolated from all that naiive hope we collect all through out our lives, we quietly expand & fill up the space that belongs to us & then some begin to pour out of their pores. some fill up the air with ditsy euphoria, some even grow branches. i became my own friend & my own foe. then i became tormented & obsessed by the very same things i was once passionately fascinated about.
i spent eternity locked in a kind of fiction. First, of the world, with liberating results & then with myself. the possibility of the fiction's self effacing quality revealed itself & that is where the sad note in the music began & all the apsaras dissapeared. blibbering blabbering cupid turned back into a chubby little cheerub & searched for his mama.
i shudder at the thought.
christianity expects people to exist with a degree of seriousness that envies a monks'.
in fact so does intellectualism, existentialism, socialism & the many other isms produced from the human society. of these existentialist being the base for all other isms, so, a worthier goal to choose from among the rest. to deal with its pointlessness is to unravel each an every mystery lying hidden under every other rock. Soon one becomes cupid dressed in flowing robes, with a silver sword forged in the depths of his soul & the commanding speech of wise oak trees, waltzing around the busy battlefields overturning dead rocks, only to find apsaras of truth wrapped in a delicacy of sublime skins revealing themselves to you in every moment of your quest.
During the journey, the worldly wise ask for the answers & you shake your head truthfully convinced about the inevitability of everything! and there, isolated from all that naiive hope we collect all through out our lives, we quietly expand & fill up the space that belongs to us & then some begin to pour out of their pores. some fill up the air with ditsy euphoria, some even grow branches. i became my own friend & my own foe. then i became tormented & obsessed by the very same things i was once passionately fascinated about.
i spent eternity locked in a kind of fiction. First, of the world, with liberating results & then with myself. the possibility of the fiction's self effacing quality revealed itself & that is where the sad note in the music began & all the apsaras dissapeared. blibbering blabbering cupid turned back into a chubby little cheerub & searched for his mama.
i shudder at the thought.
Thursday, July 5, 2007
pre-maturity
in a theatre.
they all watch the movie….faces of people intently watch the movie…white reflections from their blue faces.
We stop at a woman looking, who seems to get bored of wat she sees, fidgets a little, shifts a little , settles again & immediately gets up & walks backward towards the door.
We watch her leave from the outside as we move in closer to see the theater screen & whats on it, but the door shuts on us with a resounding thud.
She goes to the bathroom, looks into the mirror, looks at herself, from different angles.
The corner toilet door opens, out walks a boy…startled she looks at him (not in the mirror)…
We stop at a woman looking, who seems to get bored of wat she sees, fidgets a little, shifts a little , settles again & immediately gets up & walks backward towards the door.
We watch her leave from the outside as we move in closer to see the theater screen & whats on it, but the door shuts on us with a resounding thud.
She goes to the bathroom, looks into the mirror, looks at herself, from different angles.
The corner toilet door opens, out walks a boy…startled she looks at him (not in the mirror)…
not a boy she notices…
the girl with boyish short hair, a range of minuscule rings on her earlobes, checked shirt & a checked countenance walks towards the mirrors & washes her hands. Our lady looks for a second longer as if to make sure, then leans onto the counter, again in thought. The boy-lady looks up at her reflection & says, “how much did u lose?...”
“im sorry..?”
“Doctors told us that I had lost 37% at birth & the effects of such a loss would make me lose at least 17% more…..that too over a span of 32 years…”
“what do u mean?”
“did they not tell you??...n if they didn’t… didn’t you figure it out yourself? Boy-lady says this, checking her tongue piercing in the mirror. At this our lady turns her body to face boy-lady, with one hand still on the counter.
“Were u a post mature baby?”
The lady looks at boy-lady intensely, trying to figure out something & slowly answers “yesss….but how’d u know?”
Boy-lady shrugs with a quick one sided jab of a smile & leaves.
“im sorry..?”
“Doctors told us that I had lost 37% at birth & the effects of such a loss would make me lose at least 17% more…..that too over a span of 32 years…”
“what do u mean?”
“did they not tell you??...n if they didn’t… didn’t you figure it out yourself? Boy-lady says this, checking her tongue piercing in the mirror. At this our lady turns her body to face boy-lady, with one hand still on the counter.
“Were u a post mature baby?”
The lady looks at boy-lady intensely, trying to figure out something & slowly answers “yesss….but how’d u know?”
Boy-lady shrugs with a quick one sided jab of a smile & leaves.
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
Cold, Dead Sleep
Coffee day, cold coffee, cold sleep, yet again I'm growing sleepy.
Eyelids leaden with chewy sleep.
as the corporately dressed feed me their smiling lies.
Their feet adorned in steeped precision,
Only serve to sever my true ambition down to a cursed rendition of many a so called stalwart condition.
Existence isn't a mystery to one,
Who contends in history.
Each word that was written once,
by the powerful faith that moves mountains,
Builds, brick by brick,
the wall that surrounds the destitute prostitute of our plentiful times.
as the corporately dressed feed me their smiling lies.
Their feet adorned in steeped precision,
Only serve to sever my true ambition down to a cursed rendition of many a so called stalwart condition.
Existence isn't a mystery to one,
Who contends in history.
Each word that was written once,
by the powerful faith that moves mountains,
Builds, brick by brick,
the wall that surrounds the destitute prostitute of our plentiful times.
This isn't no poem that will entertain your lustful tongue,
If I should rhyme is very much my own decision.
I detect your wry smile at my wistful folly,
A sneer is all I have for your unhearing ally.
Faith can move mountains or drench a mountains work of pride.
Its powerful innocence pulls a wanderers quest to its demonic end.
What a sad pity it is then, to settle for corporate heroism,
With its coffee & quiet delinquents lurking in the corners...
With all my growing likeness to an evangelic angel,
I begin to drown in the lurking drowsiness,
Of what the death of a society brings to heroic celebration.
If I should rhyme is very much my own decision.
I detect your wry smile at my wistful folly,
A sneer is all I have for your unhearing ally.
Faith can move mountains or drench a mountains work of pride.
Its powerful innocence pulls a wanderers quest to its demonic end.
What a sad pity it is then, to settle for corporate heroism,
With its coffee & quiet delinquents lurking in the corners...
With all my growing likeness to an evangelic angel,
I begin to drown in the lurking drowsiness,
Of what the death of a society brings to heroic celebration.
Sunday, April 15, 2007
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Brilligya
u know wat my real fantasy would be...the only one that could come dangerously close to being a reality is if one day in the year when i turn 26, i go to sleep my days tiredness away nd i find myself unable to sleep because all i am doing is thinking, my head an industrial area buzzzzing under a canopy of stars. Hours pass and im still stuck in between thought trances & sleep. i whimper in frustration, i have to sleep, its necessary, i chant.
Sleep doesnt come, shes curiously floats above my head, just a sliver away from my gazes reach...her body teases my eyes feild.
Shes beyond my territory, i see her; but the thousand soldiers inside my head don't quit their drowning voices march.
so i struggle n i struggle. i fight a deep deep war of sorts. i whimper n squeal, i thrash the bedstead wildly & sway.
i forget theres no one to fight with for this, so i step on the gas & wildly thump down the bed.
my sweat n the tears have made it a mess, the damp hot mattress so suffers the blows. i exhausted the quiver of arrows i had, the load of canons that entered the war...died without reason or rhyme or god knows wat not. my ammunition then over, da fight dat then withered, as two sides of inevitable defeat called it quits, sleep then she smothered, my eyes in the river, to stop me from thinking the dream that would think. thunk fell to the ground & smiled in contentment...as i drifted into peaceful rhythmic sleep.
i wake up in next mornings lap, warm & friendly & smelling of tea, i walk up to myself n see her...me....us. Together with a large crown of white old hair, shining nd radiant in their experience's glow.
a nightful of time & white hair next morning....
Sleep doesnt come, shes curiously floats above my head, just a sliver away from my gazes reach...her body teases my eyes feild.
Shes beyond my territory, i see her; but the thousand soldiers inside my head don't quit their drowning voices march.
so i struggle n i struggle. i fight a deep deep war of sorts. i whimper n squeal, i thrash the bedstead wildly & sway.
i forget theres no one to fight with for this, so i step on the gas & wildly thump down the bed.
my sweat n the tears have made it a mess, the damp hot mattress so suffers the blows. i exhausted the quiver of arrows i had, the load of canons that entered the war...died without reason or rhyme or god knows wat not. my ammunition then over, da fight dat then withered, as two sides of inevitable defeat called it quits, sleep then she smothered, my eyes in the river, to stop me from thinking the dream that would think. thunk fell to the ground & smiled in contentment...as i drifted into peaceful rhythmic sleep.
i wake up in next mornings lap, warm & friendly & smelling of tea, i walk up to myself n see her...me....us. Together with a large crown of white old hair, shining nd radiant in their experience's glow.
a nightful of time & white hair next morning....
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Thursday, February 22, 2007
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