DISRUPTION

Invert the mirror
Invert the spectacle;
Subvert the spectacle
Convert receptacle

The image comes from Bharat Mirle's very talented hands: www.dustyantiques.deviantart.com

POLLEN

Orient your little heads
Those little heads on nano bodies
Orient them and
Dart away
Like tramps with uncharacteristic urgency,
Go everywhere
Spread yourselves out, and
Scatter
You are not the territory-sensitive animal
You are not the jurisdiction-conscious mortal
You are not a medium-bound prisoner
Sprint away, fly, crawl, swim, dance
You are the ubiquitous free spirit
The truly unfettered one
So arbitrary, so crazy,
So unbound, so free:
Perhaps those are not
Little heads with nano bodies,
But are really,
Tiny bodies with no heads
No, yours are not the thinking, calculating, planning heads
Yours are (only) the truly free bodies
And yours are the only truly free bodies;
With a speed that is part mood, part intent
And all of the world as your resting place
You are the archetypal traveller
May your free tribe multiply and increase
But no, not in this nostril you tease!

*smirks* !

DECONSTRUCTION

I.
Beads of sweat
glide across
sinewy calves
balancing on
mossy wood-boards

II.
Brown wrinkled hands
rest on a
black bench
beneath the
brilliant sunset

III.
A happy cloud of
silence
hangs above the
two
sitting on the
earthen bench

IV.
Defining marks of
charcoal
adorning
cracked yellow walls

V.
Scraps of paper
in a
pretty wicker basket
posing as
waste

VI.
Leaping orange-blue flames
tickle a
cold, blackened bottom

P.O.A

Yawns glide
Colours fly
Eyelids lie down
Smiles amble
Across from one swimming face to another
in a lake of paddling jaws;
And arms moonwalk
While toes shuffle
Like a pile of autumn leaves in the wind;
Hips seesaw
Sighs thaw
Lips seethe
And thighs crawl
Languidly in careless angles
Like bangles
Sweeping up and down a wrist;
Sloth bobs like a small sailboat
Sailing between bones and joints that sit pretty like sand,
lying back, drawing away, making peace, being at ease
Hair toils, in trying to get everywhere
Elbows recoil so they don’t spread themselves bare
And eyebrows are slow, thirsty camels
The expansive forehead stretches
To the horizons of the rising and setting ears
That carry bird songs in their little hemispheres
And palms are dewy leaves
Knees are sloppy jacket sleeves
Heels ruminate
While the tongue gyrates
And impulses are late
This crusty morning
Baked with lusty sunshine
And eyes wait…

Eyes wilt
And shoulders jilt
Resolve turns to silt
Oh we’re just fine!
Yes, the chin toes the line
And sets out to mine
the fingertips for usefulness
Let the teeth practice finesse
While the thought reorients
Its capricious self;
Cheeks chide
As another yawn glides…

THIRD LIFE

Hello Blog, hello once again!

Yes it has been VERY long (for various reasons). But after thinking about resurrecting this blog a couple of times before, I have now decided to actually do it. I have decided to go ahead and post things without thinking too much and prejudging them myself. So there will be old stuff, new stuff, new ones that are growing old, and all other kinds.

I don't think anybody reads this blog (at least ever since it was in hibernation). Hopefully, that will change. (And hopefully you will be pulled out of the 'Graveyard blogs' list! :P)
So, welcome to your Third Life!
Now, though I've maintained silence for quite long, I have been writing. So at this stage, there may be a deluge of posts. Or maybe not; I'll ration them, I like moderation.

Feedback, suggestions, criticism are all very welcome :)

Image from: www.phillyskyline.com/archive_0711b.htm

Hands Separate

Hands separate

Again

And again;

This time I

Don’t want to stay and look

Or turn around and glance

It doesn’t matter.

All that had to be said, perhaps wasn’t

Perhaps never will be.

But right now, there is nothing more I want to convey to you

As these hands separate.

But I will stare sombrely through strangers

Where you can’t see

How the said and the unsaid

Mow all over and then puncture me;

How the said and the unsaid

Make a joke of me

So that strangers we don’t know

Can pity the irony

And read from my face

That the joke’s not funny.

I always felt you lacked a real sense of humour.

It's been REALLY long since I updated my blog. I realized that a lot of things I wanted to say were things I couldn’t or didn’t want to put up here.
I did feel bad occasionally about your empty white spaces. But you’ve said a lot through them too.

There's also 'lazy'....

Kill You With Silence

So many things uttered

Nothing really said

Begin:

Not a word

Not a sound

No sentences will be framed

No words will be spoken.

I’d like to kill you with my Silence

Echo this emptiness

I’d like to kill you with Silence

Slow poison

Or a knife

Depends on how you take it

‘Cause behind the soundproof glass

you have switched off.

And there, only my

Silence can reach you

And then even if you wanted to,

You wouldn’t be able to respond

To empty echoes.

This Silence,

Loud enough

To shake you out of your deafness

Tricky,

For you wouldn’t know what you are throwing back to

How to handle

Things that haven’t been said

How to reply, justify, retort, offer excuses

To this powerful lack of

Everything you need.

And your words will fail you

For they cannot combat

This unarmed attack.

This Silence, I’ll kill you with it

And even if you chose to answer with silence

It would merely be a poor second

Not a fraction as effective

As my Silence that challenges it.

For in your silence

You stand exposed

And then your cocooning glass can only

Shatter at the

Paradox of it all.

Post Script:

It’s a potent weapon

Dead on you

Or so I thought

Dead on you,

I hoped not.

For if the very vehicle of our exchange

Was dead, then

You and I

Would be too.

[And you laughed when I told you about my violent tendencies. These are my weapons of choice.]

DANCE OF FURY

All wound up –

De-winding

Wrapping it around the

Molecules of

Breath, in the outer circle

The outer circle

Step into the outer circle

Step over the outer circle

Leap across the

Circle circle

Lost in the moment…

Flailing arms, swaying heads,

Dancing in the vortex

of the whirlpool

that is You

Fury flows

Out

Out of this mercurial state

Now I am the gun

And bullets fly

All around

And bullets fly

And barrel rotates

Round and round

And finish is unfinished…

The air is your ground

Fly!

Creep stealthily

Stand high,

Uproot the clay-clad claustro-mire

Torrid waves

And Fire

Cut off and thrown

Detached and flown

Blown in my own,

Like a shot in the bone

Ignition in the bone

Fission in the bone…

A Supernova moment

Reach out –

I am your unending filament

Anti-burnout.

Reach out

And spread everywhere

And there where no hiding space can dare

You are staring through these

Black holes

And your control is slipping

And your strings are a-clipping

And your mind is flipping

And the distance is ripping

Apart,

And I will shake you

I will break you

Take you to bits

And then Rake you

And the shattered shards of your wits

Won’t know how to make you

Again.

I am the punches,

I am the sword,

I am the punches that fly

Down, down, down

I am the punches that fly

Up, sideways, around;

I am the force

And I assume shape

I AM the force!

And now you gape

Who is the greatest one?

Proclaim it

Scream it

Bugle it

Into the loudest silence that fills the

Crevices of the convoluted mind.

The darkness behind the lids

Presents a vision

Strikingly bright,

The sound reverberating

Behind the drums

Paints a vivid sight…

Now gliding into the crests

Now leaping out troughs,

Mapping heights,

Being might.

Infinite, for a split-second

And then one.

Bleaah

Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala
lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalaa

I feel like one of those cartoons who've gone bonkers by the end of the episode and don't know what to do with themselves.

Yeah, right now it feels like all my strings are oddly broken. End of another episode.
Tuneless twang twang.

The laser named You
Cleared the myopia…

the Pedestal is a delusion
and Gravity can’t be fooled.

There Are No Answers,

[or are there?]

Why is it that 99% of emcees are terrible speakers and presenters?

Why do women with the most annoying voices end up being the loudest?

How is it that the most asinine people are the most confident of their (ridiculous) views and arguments?

Why does an ugly teacher who lacks a brain correct our Literature papers?

Why is it that water tankers (carrying precious, potable water) always, always leak?

Why do people continue to argue a point that has already been made and laid to rest (minus any original ideas of their own)?

Why do I see everywhere a perpetual attempt to accommodate and make allowances for mediocrity?

How come most things wrong seem to have an upper hand over what ought to be instead?