Rendition of deficiency ..

>> Wednesday, September 30, 2009

Do you smell sweet-sick flesh out here, moths and lust?
skeletons hanging like scarecrows, their jaws framed into grin,
outlines of hazy dreams, a shadow, a pulpit,
a ragged tree and endless miles of self-churned mud

this is my world, my poetry, sporadic murmurs of "fuck"
strewn without heat, drowned by wave after wave of
swelling phrases, enjoining, parsing, rushing, flooding
language is bottomless, dark pool out of which

I rake spectral cinders of my thought, a blank mote in blank
muteness, grappling at nothingness I had aimed high,
addiction that had come with wanting to serve poetry,
then wanting poetry to serve me when a flurry of volcanic words

spewed out from my fingers, rage of crapulent antipathy
surmounted and my keyboard rattled, when it snowed outside,
the sight of letters dancing on the monitor was better
than a shot of whiskey, restoring my blood to pump again

you chew these discourses with angry lethargy dear reader ?
lurch past something you ought not see, this lengthy poem
makes no scrap of a difference, you plunge no further under its spell,
before exchanging even a word here we've reached the stalemate

publicness has eroded my intensity, you snare library mold,
words everyone else has forgotten, my biggest flaw?
absence of a living spark, so I’d become fire, as fire,
my only wish was to flame, to deplete, to develop,

dazed and burning I’d blackened my soul, thrown my notebooks,
vocabulary and keys that abandoned me in presence of desolation,
the fire laughed and devoured, it reminded me of
something nighttime; subterranean and clandestinely crude

a room full of shadows, more unfortunate than that lurid first failure,
from which appears no escape, this knot in stomach, I’d known before,
somewhere and somehow I’d failed there I have failed here,
in my own territory I stand defeated; Defeat is a habit too.


Rajavel September 30, 2009 at 12:16 PM  

What you usually call verbal diarrhea always fascinates me ! and your observations about the reader are pretty much spot on !

Chaggoholic.... September 30, 2009 at 10:04 PM  

Another similarity(Bingos i call dem) the one word that goes wid me nowadays is Verbal Diarrhoea. The reader in your case is mostly bamboozled wid the words than the actual meaning of the full context. Glad u lashed back wid simpler ones still a bit high-end;) but all in all i see u emptin ur cauldron that just began to overflow wid oddities....

Rakesh Vanamali September 30, 2009 at 10:59 PM  

Whoaaa! This is like exploring the darkest corners of the human mind! U will make a wonderful psychologist, u know!

aria October 1, 2009 at 12:12 AM  

Rajavel.. Thanks so much.. so happy to read your comment… miss that old gang.. :(

Chaggs.. great to have you back here… everything I post here is verbal diarrhoea… hehe btw @ lashing back with simpler ones.. I guess that’s a part of ‘erosion due to publicness” I am deliberately trying to be ‘simple’ these days but that isn’t no fun for me :( thanks for that lovely comment.

Rakesh.. thanks a lot .. I’ll think of that as an alternative profession i.e. when I find a primary one .. :D

Full2 Faltu October 7, 2009 at 11:50 AM  

After so many years, I still don't get it!!!

Dumb!!! Me!!!

Someday I will!! Till then I will read the whole poem trying to understand!!!!

How have you been?

- Punds

Quackster October 7, 2009 at 3:49 PM  

Though the title is about a rendition of deficiency, there is no lack of such in describing it. A contradiction of which I have no fault against. Splendid in the discourse of dark and what else but deficiency. This is a solid work.

Perry Strange October 10, 2009 at 6:17 PM  

... that's good. angry!

"fire as fire", the last paragraph... but my favorite is actually "clandestinely crude"--stilleto-bit, that.

... think the internet's a bit like the night sky sometimes... infinite possibility, but so big--it can't even be bothered to swallow one.

goatman October 13, 2009 at 2:53 PM  

"Other than that Mrs Lincoln", how was the play?

Please forgive me that, but it came bobbing into mind and would not leave.
You are a true wordsmith

ani_aset October 21, 2009 at 5:00 AM  

You make me read every poem more than once atleast..sometimes because i dont get it..and sometimes because i so love it ..hey that rhymed :D

bimal March 29, 2010 at 12:04 AM  

aria, i searched u all over and found you here, no forward address, maybe i was plain to just google u up, anyways im here and found u thats what matters....

nice to be here.. will keep coming back to haunt you all over again.


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