(Un)rhythmical Life...

>> Wednesday, July 29, 2009



Life, that meager cache; I can get back to it,
unsympathetic, it appeals to some perverse streak
to seek out the very site that aroused bitterness,
an irony you can not fathom, no matter if I explained.
This intoxication is brief - a seduction, an illusion,
never lasting; then to be engulfed by oceanic rhythm of
denial and rebellion, volume upon esoteric volume,
the limitless kingdom of beats - not one of which
I wish to penetrate. I am a reckless poet,
I can be a woman of caprice, attachment to
a chimerical life is an explanation I was,
for all my mistrust of it, willing to accept.
I supposed it took me in fleetingly, like
optical illusions, where an image metamorphoses
into a different image, you cannot hold both images
in your mind simultaneously. So why run at all?
why run ever again? when you have no destination,
there is but a finish line. When you come to the end,
you’d find only yourself. The same unchanged.
The more you move on, the more you arrive at self.
I am not running any more, I am not hiding from life,
I believe I am waiting for it . …



What seemed an impregnable cache, immune to theft
was stolen, it was my rhythm, not your poetry,
my exegesis of symphonic life in that parallel music;
shall we speak of universals and eternals?
I lost my way during several attempts to find it.
The world is composed of sins, ruled by instincts
deeper than lethargy, virtue is vapor, more perplexing,
you are all around me in its bodily reminders,
the heaps of notes, cramped odors of obsession,
in the intimate intrusion of the massive bed,
where I’d lain with harmony in a hot drive
to dissent, to subvert, to fly like the bohemian
from what had passed for usual wisdom,
denying tedium, denying the given, the received,
the begotten, the whole solicitous silliness.
Behold! how these strings, wan and magical
flood the sinews of our melody, it was then
I’d caught, vibrating under your cajoling words,
an unsaid, electric burr that seemed to echo;
I had served my purpose: good-bye.


Tomorrow morning I am leaving with my parents for a small vacation on the hills. I’ll be back in 5-6 days. See you then.



>> Monday, July 27, 2009

You would never stray
from the path we'd both started on
leaving me to rub smudges
from a name that we share
for I am a storm
when I hadn’t been crashing
I had been brewing
inside you
this interlude we see
is a natural corollary of analogy
the logical ghost which follows impulse
if it can be shredded and scattered
lightening meteors are everywhere
corpuscles are both causes and effects
nothing has chassis or stasis
reason itself is merely a flux
passion seeps and seeps and never sleeps
and you, even you can be spurred
it isn’t love that has wronged us
we had run away from love
and my love
my silhouette is at all cost
guaranteed to linger
it is a force not a thing
a function that extends through the space
and therefore,
even if not wholly understood
it could be after a fashion,

Note : I barely had readers even prior to this longish break and I never liked moderating my meager comments. However certain abusive comments
have forced me to resort to comment moderation. Bear with me, if you can.


Duet (continues)

>> Friday, July 24, 2009

between passages of
subterranean calamities
sits a sibyl,
her voice,
a large cascading thing,
every inch of you
in her swelling voice
she reverts to harmony
usurping your words
to invent rhymes and stories
the tune is thin,
unclear and strange,
of unrecognizable scales,
there is no orderliness
it wounds and wounds,
a wire spiraling into abyss,
this is what she wishes,
to be formless
like this tune, wayward
no one to predict her;
no one to form her
the author of the duet
is grafted on her lace
the moment she is free
she would tear it off
from then on
she is all impulse.

Note : These two duets are the parts of a prompt session me and a blogger pal were having, wherein he started with Duet I and rounded off with Duet V. I wrote Duet II ( of hate - the previous post) and Duet IV ( continues - the current post) of this series.

I like this more than the previous duet 'coz I wrote this in one hour. One of the quickest stuff I ever wrote!


Duet .. (of hate)

>> Monday, July 20, 2009

torrent; rivulets collide on panes,
within, two wayward tributaries
coalesce into one decisive stream,
words we wonderingly recite,
ornate, now and then boldly archaic;
have a lingering stately pace,
on occasion halting altogether,
like a turn in dance, or rest in a march
it’s not the July torch spilling sweat -
it’s our conflagration, invading,
heaping up a pyre of love
in this room with the shut door,
out of which stutters the unsteady
nightly tappings of a duet,
spiteful mutterings and garbles
replace the coarse lovemaking;
we invoke secret spells, maledictions;
when the guttural tardy thunder
miles away, throws us into a daze
we leave; as numb as
a walk away from the funeral of
someone we dearly loved -
bereft and spent.


That's all you are...

>> Wednesday, July 15, 2009

This feeling, it came to me one afternoon,
I was caught in, the manacles of language
there was no theater but our ingrown proscenium
my ears secret labyrinths, your eyes secretive,
your velvety touch weightless, lit by
a tiny jewel in my annualry, treading phantomlike,
leaping from its tender perch
into the dusky corridor my lips
tunneling deeper and deeper
until I sank into the darkness of your mind.
I wasn’t watchful. I wasn’t suspicious.
I wanted your hands to keep close to me
the soft translucent web-skin between your fingers
to fondle…. I wouldn’t name what.

Aptly naming, is knowing what it is
exorcising and possessing, all at once.

All masks sunder or else all sport masks
In a bristling of remembrance and representations,
the past was the present, the present was past,
the meaning of one thing, was the meaning of other,
all meanings were one and into this cauldron of all-ness
a recognized evil burst, wearing the mask of you
behind it a cavalcade of upheavals unmasked,
a torn scarlet dress, dead dreams, soot
the lover who was not a lover.
And you; always you.
Invader usurper thief. All one.
An odorless odor, a fume adrift aslant
inside me, fiercely rotating lost runaways,
swallowed by oblivion like whiskey in the throat.

Merely another bruise in the house of bruises…………


Thanks to Ashen Glow – for remembering my parent’s anniversary along with her Birthday. It helped me kick my present hibernation ..

Thank you also to Untouchable Earth for the The Premio Dardos Award when I was away. Sorry for not responding then.


I wrote this piece yesterday, after latest fiasco. How I manage to get into the same old blah is beyond me too. If you wish to know more .. click here....

Now that I’ve written something after six months I felt like resurrecting my previous ‘home.’ Primarily b’coz I don’t feel like posting frivolous stuff here as I had intended to restrain this page for ‘serious’(so I think) writing. I don’t know if I succeeded but I’d tried.


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