Random Thoughts -1

I read a line yesterday evening which got me thinking.

"Life is too short to spend time with people who suck the happiness out of you."

Interesting, isn't it.

Perspective is the essence of human thinking and endeavor. Contextually the above line sounds really cool. But in a real-time scenario, under a particular circumstance, which is purely yours and in your world professional or personal, it just sounds good, that is all. There is nothing more to it, nothing less.

I love the point of view. I have done it personally to let go of many a people who sucked the happiness out of me. Some of them were my own choices that degraded down to that kind of an abyss as time passed by, some of them crept on me and without my conscious knowledge started sucking the life-force out of me. There is another angle to it too, may be I also unconsciously debilitated the delight in someone. Remember that most people, unconsciously do it. No one in their right senses want to dissipate what is bright and untrammeled; it just happens based on a particular situation or occasion. Human beings are not that bad. Yes there is a massive definition and precise differentiation in the thought process. A line that demarcates the good and the bad and mebbe further down the hole, the ugly. I wonder why this obsession with demarcation so that we can have a perspective that all we say, do, consider and comprehend is right and good. I believe that there are no precise separations. Every one of us has a little bit of everything. An incident, a happenstance, a contingency is what creates a situational reaction, and it could be good, bad or downright ugly depending on the mental state that prevailed, previously or experience has generated over the years.

I was standing on the outside of my ancestral home with my cousin brother when his dad was working for the temple committee. The temple was just across the house mentioned, and we could see him being calm and composed in his conversation with all the committee members. Just to give a perspective, he was always calm and composed and probably a very jovial man with a countenance that never was overbearing to noone. He was one of those who mind his own business and never worried about the wider horizons of human thinking so as to not get hassled, I reckon.

A person in a larger cruiser bike came close to us and asked for directions to meet this uncle of mine. We pointed towards the temple and balding individual as the person whom he is looking for. The man rode the few paces and started to have a conversation in a heavy toned and brusque manner. Well, my uncle did not loose his famed countenance but he slapped in the very same demeanor he was noted for.

Surprise, 'coz I said, SLAP. I mean he slapped someone. It was like what the hell. Of course, it was a damp squib as the man who came left with a huff on his cruiser for whatever reasons. The bigger picture: My uncle does mind his own business, does not worry about other people's business, lives calmly and in a surreal manner in his own way. So for him to loose his physiognomy could get us curious. Which it did. We found that he was having a relationship with someone in the neighboring village and the guy in the cruiser was some kind of good samaritan who wanted to ask what the deal was all about. He got slapped.

The situation was different. His primary demeanor would have never assuaged the situation. In fact it may have turned worse. Even this reaction could have turned sour under a different circumstance and another stranger. But it did not for whatever reasons. We mentioned it to a few of our family members, nobody believed us. He of course, denied the existence of any such incidence and nobody dared question him beyond that as his dour look would have made anyone circumspect of the reaction that may arise.

What I wanted to elaborate was this one incident does not define him as a person. But for that stranger who got slapped, my Uncle was a particular kind of person which is completely different from all other perspectives that have ever floated around. And I am sure, even if I do not know the details, for the other lady who was in the relationship my Uncle was not the cool masked brilliance that everyone deemed him to be on the other side of the spectrum.

All men and women, under different circumstances, with distinct people, under varied incidental strains, react in manners that may defy possibilities. The success of many an individual is also dependent on this aspect. The reaction to a possible situation that may raise your stature to another level happens in the very same manner that may completely degrade your level to another abyss that may be insurmountable.

Look at the Afro - American men and women in the United States. They keep defying odds and they keep being combative and slowly and steadily they are out there in the open in almost all the spheres of life chipping away. Whether you pick up music, sports, business, anything they are there and they rule the roost. And they are brilliant at what they do which makes it more special. But on the other side, the same energy, the same intensity, fervor, anxiety, earnestness and the need and hunger to be the best and to be successful, sometimes ends up on the other side of the law. It is the situations that create the scenario of where you want to go. I hear a lot of stories. People and their anecdotes interest me and they share so I remember and almost all of it has a perspective which popped out of a situation or an incident at a particular moment and mostly at a crossroad that could have showcased a few paths.

Good or bad. That is the way it goes. A girl told me that she had an opportunity to be a dancer and she was good but in a freak accident she broke her leg and was bed ridden for about 5 months and whatever opportunity she thought she had standing at the crossroads and looking out at the world of dance dissipated. She does not crib 'coz she has found something else, which was again worthwhile. So that is good and does she miss the world of dance, Yup! a lot, her limp is gone and she is going to work on it somewhere along the way for her own longing to be satiated.

Think of this; a boy from the noisiest, lousiest red light district in the country, Sona Gachi; Kolkata, India was adopted by a New York city resident couple. From Sona Gachi, he got transported straight to Lower East Side. This ludicrous neighborhood was filled with the stench of blood, sweat and semen, coupled with raucous, scathing and disparaging sounds that would fill the 2 by 6 meter cube called home. This was where the mother or whomsoever took care of him lived, and desecrated their body's and souls and he had grown up watching the violations, depredations and befouling of her as well as some others. From here to the wide expanse of higher living, Lower East Side, the condo had a bathroom the size of the whole he was in. The view was magnificent. The kid was just 8 years old when he got picked for adoption. He was just one among a big lot of kids from the same place. In fact, just to add to the drama, someone told me that the kid was late in joining the group as he was caught up at the open air washroom. Everything changed, I know if it is a better life, as Lower East side can also be hell depending on the people you are with, but things changed. All the other ones who stood there on that day, may be thinking of destiny, luck, fate etc; but again who knows sometimes, Sona Gachi may well be paradise in comparison to Lower East Side, NY. It is a perspective isn't it, it depends who is looking and how.

It is tough live without perspectives. It helps us to see the brighter side of almost everything. It helps us to camouflage the so called weaknesses that we carry. It makes our days better, it makes our families look refulgent, our friends: awe-inspiring and our world around beautiful. We just seem to find comfort in most things. Our need of perfection moves aside and based on the situation we pick up a perfection that is much more aligned to reality and accept it as the best possible under the current scenario; which in turn makes us move on to other more important pursuits with much needed focus.

We shall continue the conversation further as the topic is of utmost importance. There are these extreme cases of showcasing of happiness under any circumstances. The bouncy nature of the exhibition of cacophony is something which needs a little surmise when witnessed. There seems to be a certain kind of withdrawal symptom of some sorts, may be due to the entertainment industry and the images they promulgate and the nature of life showcased on all these mediums which is but withdrawn from reality. But that has created this trumpeting of things which seem deliberate and unreal without much substance and the continuity of such nature would create a disassociation with the emotion of happiness, laughter, pure amusement and simple merriment.

Again, that is my perception....

Random thoughts

A lot of what I know or have learnt through the years from my people, peers, others etc states that death is dark and that it invokes despair and grief.

Experience, I mean the numerous encounters I had with death and of other people dying around me states that it is just a movement from one state of matter to another. This I reckon, is the normal. Almost every being on the planet earth including the inanimate goes through this process. There is nothing untoward about it. The reason for the grief and despair, is also something that every being goes through. The one that moved on, well, that is the end of that story. But the one that stay back, the one that has been affected does gain an impact, immeasurable, to quite an extent. This effect on the one that continuous to thrive is again of the limited kinds. 'Coz perseverance is the hallmark of all beings, animate as well as inanimate. The human may cry and showcase his grief, then gather the pieces and bounce back as the monotonous Sun shall rise everyday and ask them to continue, the plant may look dry and dark and then the monotonous seasons shall keep swaying to and forth and slowly bring forth the green and elegance; and the rock may look parched and ominous after an event of disaster but the incessant wind and rain shall carry the dreary sludge and the magnificence shall slam back normalcy.

The extinct ones, what about them, hollers the mind: well, that one is difficult. The inability to coarse oneself to defend against onslaught of any kinds and the incapacity to continue ahead in the journey of creation may seem sentimental and draconian. But the helplessness may also state the obvious, the complete end may give rise to some other element or being that is far more useful and ingenious towards the future needs of what the earth shall constitute.

Death is but a brilliant method in the madness of existence. The existential dark space where definition stops and it is pure imagination that throws a brilliant rainbow of ideas about what is next. It also allows the living to express themselves; the crutch being suddenly taken away. The ability to express and get things done, raise itself in such a manner that mostly surprises the individual themselves. The dependency on others is the story of human existence. It is a beautiful thing and it allows the person to gather resources and fight off forces that may be difficult to deal with alone. And the wondrous values of companionship and story sharing has nothing comparable. The vice or iniquity is the dependency that sets in for both the parties. It may be shared dependency but it is dependent on compatibility, conjecture as well as skills of deed. The inability to spread capabilities beyond a certain measure in varied aspects become an inappropriate inadequacy. Death helps to expand the horizons. The stillness of the future, chills the veins momentarily but the same chill is then utilized to create the wings to fly further and see unexplored terrains.

Loneliness may have its naysayers and critics, but most of what they say is overblown. The silence that accompanies desolation has also got a bad rap. Most of all these is personal opinions, true. Even this is. But many of the opinions are taken up and ardently followed by certain less fortunate souls who spend most times with other people never having a moment of rumination. They shall continue to see the dreaded visualization of loneliness and silence and spread the word. The population is major concern. I have forgotten the sounds that nature makes. The slow steady rhythm of the wind, the varied tunes that birds-I-dunno-names-of create, the cricket's crackle in the night, the feeling and auditory vibrations of a snake slithering some place close, the sudden defenses that come to rejuvenate our senses, the decrepitate snap of some morning bird just callously flying by, all that is gone. I dunno where they are now but I need to get back with them. I need to be one with them.

When death shall come by to take me by my hand so that we could cross the fires of hell in tandem I need to have these sounds and feelings lurching in my soul instead of the incessant complaints of human existence, the constant brouhaha of being cheerful when cheer itself need not be shown to no one, the immutable drive to show a face that seems to be cut in a smile while the camouflage slides out of the jaw drooping and forlorn; the perpetual state of exposure and the need to showcase the deeds, if any,  and get a feedback which in turn creates much more humbug and pain. How beautiful it would be just to walk in the middle of the night with moon cannoodling around with the trees and me, the street lights partly lit not covering anything beyond a certain diameter? How beautiful it is to use your backpack as your support and sit by the river side, just listening to gurgling of the flowing sand and water, the breeze bringing the smell of roasted coconut and the slight strain of the fish being fried? I just want to keep walking among these beings, animate and inanimate, away from the maddening crowd and their everyday spoils, hooks, acts and pains and be one with the nature around. The green grass on the underneath of my feet, the slight dew encompassing all that I am, my skin tuned to the surreal, the mind a rush of blood that is real.

The sound of silence hangs on me and I love the slow moving out of the despair and disdain. The incessant tide of what is not good and what is not bad has slid away, in its place stands a reasonably simple vivacity of opportunity that beckons me away from the insolence and ego that sets everything around me to be heavy. I want to get away from this heaviness, it is overbearing, the burden is way too much, I can feel it in my muscles, memories turn itself into monuments of dust underneath the strain.

I want to feel light; I want to leave tomorrow, its but a days journey away from teeming masses, from the convoluted thinkers, from the spurious jocundity and joviality. I just want to find myself a little place, a few trees, a brook and a few chirping birds, do throw in a dog, they are never phony....

Poesy - 20th May 2016

A magic moment I remember:
I raised my eyes and you were there,
A fleeting vision, the quintessence
Of all that's beautiful and rare.

I pray to mute despair and anguish,
To vain pursuits the world esteems,
Long did I near your soothing accents,
Long did your features haunt my dreams.

Time passed. A rebel storm-blast scattered
The reveries that once were mine
And I forgot your soothing accents,
Your features gracefully divine.

In dark days of enforced retirement
I gazed upon grey skies above
With no ideals to inspire me,
No one to cry for, live for, love.

Then came a moment of renaissance,
I looked up - you again are there,
A fleeting vision, the quintessence
Of all that`s beautiful and rare.

_____________________________________________

I stand testimony of change

from a shrub to a tree of life

I'm immersed in the wisdom of time

its delivered to me thru' ages

the river below the ravine flows wild

but its rage has mellowed

this terrain,this li'l hill I stand,

since time started moving fast, has

changed from the untrammeled horizon

emblazoned in a feral panorama of green

to this manicured, man-made expanse

colorful, yet lost in its chiseled vision

How many a man has traversed this path

a constant reminder of all things formed,

fashioned by the steady flow of mankind

they have traipsed thru the woods

in search of space

cutting through the dense foliage

                              braced and created

to call it exploration and settlement

-----------------------------------------------------------

Why am I so bound to your rhythms?

Your little fingers moves and my mind evolves from within

your heart skips a beat in fear

and I fear the consequence of its beat

You sing in murmured tones

and my heart breathes freely, ceremoniously

where were you when I wept and dreamt heavy?

where were you whence my horizons never had the sun?

Was it you when I felt pangs of pain,

at times when things were good for me?

did you ever feel a bereaving sensation

and never knew why and for what?

Do you feel it must have been me, someplace

deep in anguish and despair?

whence did our twains meet?

was it when you cried out loud first

when light permeated thru' your li'l eyes?

I have walked a million roads

traversed paths hitherto unheard of

in search of what I never knew then

Now whence I've found my destiny, I weep

I weep in joy, for the clarity of my vision

I weep in sorrow, for the love I could've gathered

I embrace you as my heart beats deep and subtle

fearful never to lose you..

watching as the horizon slowly lightens up

a million promises and boundless colors

brimming all over the expanse

and I shudder, my deepest contours, blissful

filled with overflowing happiness

Poesy - 19 May, 2016 - II

Whence did God create this penance
this silent orchard of love-
How sublime it stands at the crossroads
at the mercy of all that we humans concur

How delicate is its peaceful resonance
the hills clad in benign white of the clouds
in memory of some long lost hope
How parched are the sands of time seeking its place in history?

How doth one not seek spirituality here
                    the language of the hills speak only thus
How I feel the silence of love within the cold confines
How doth one stay away from green presence of long bound hills

Do we not seek nirvana here, do we not know about it here
                   Our body embraces the vanity of our thoughts
It mingles and minuscules itself to silent multitudes
How far do we walk in search of why we seek what?
Do we not just need to come among this presence, just to let go

Let the mind wander, doth I did in silent penance
Let the body take in the calmness of the faraway hills
Let my time creep out as and when it burrows itself
Let me be me today, cause nothing else can understand the oneness of the colors around
___________________________________________




I seek to gain the erudition of my love
I seek to bind myself to this thought and knowledge
And as the fir and the shrub and meadows
                lighten up with the touch of the milder dew
                and the rain clouds gather its darkened shields to pour on us
its glorious vanities

I watch from under green roofs,
with the smell of the wet grass and sand
and find my answers for God has seldom given such comeuppance and glory
                                 to places much vaster and beautiful
for here I watch God reside and love
                and give in heavy abundance the seeker of wisdom

the clarity of pure thought and the silent yearnings of my love
                         come joyously dancing to mirror the thought of yet another
wanderer lusting to glance beyond the measure that's been given in deliverance.
______________________________________________

Poesy - 19th May, 2016

It is such a soothe to my senses, when we talk
          I just contrive myself into the cocoon called us
all else, shuts eye, and I am in a dream within a dream

You make me laugh
 I get lost in the crackle within myself
Your sense of humor pervades me to love you more
'cause what more does anyone need
                 other than to have someone to make one laugh

A smile does cross me every time we talk
I embrace it, like the warmth of the October Sun
It is embalming and all consuming

I take snapshots of this memoir
            they shall stand their stead
as time would weaken the links and broaden the space
and it would be me watching the sunset and hills ahead
           alone on the stone bench
whirring back and forth in time and space....
         

Poco - Call It Love

Poesy - Note - 17th May, 2016

Took a break, I dunno whether to call it that but it was hot, humid and energetic. Well, I reckon that could be called a break..Not from you, hon, I did want to, but, I guess that is going to be difficult 'cause you kept popping in and out most of the occasions. I wanted to share everything, all that is happening, but I think you would not have been inclined to the daily humdrum of another individual...

Anyway we continue our conversation again, monologue to be precise....





If you find rocks on your path, you are the lucky one,
'cause it is within rocks, that you find diamonds,
'cause its within rocks, that you find rubies
within these stones the wisdom of ages lay hidden,
it's for you to search, seek and then find
Your spark of wisdom speaks forth when you ask so many "why's"

I tell you my friend do not loose heart,
for there comes a time when they would all listen,
they would all wait for you to speak, and every path and every corner you take
would lead you to the brightness of luck
and everything that you touch would spur you to be a better human

_______________________________




The peace of your presence is pristine
Its bound within me in specks of time
there is a certain form that's shaping
I adulate myself in its ecstasy

where is it that you bring forth such peace?
what penance have I taken to have such warmth?
cocooned as if within a wintry blanket
lazily secure within an eerie silence.

I haven't completely unwound me self;
the dreariness of my past still hangs on to me
I'm still wound in the slow death of my senses
I'm alive partly, just for you,
and that part is snug, content...
as if it knew this day would come
but the other self is still edgy
the dark clouds looming in the horizon somewhere
correlates and perplexes my wisdom at times
my emotions loose their maturity
I'm canned into sullen silence, melancholy blooms
I withdraw I know,as if loving the pain
I'm lost in the contours of the pure, pleasurable agony
I gain the lust I lost somewhere,in the retreat
I reckon to depart soon, abandoning the anxious me
assuming my real unperturbed self
a casual lean unto life's real tranquility

Would you cast me aside then, for the fun may leave?
Would you place me in the shadow, as the spark may cease?
                      as the morning star that hid beneath the surly clouds
brooding and grim on its dreary alteration.

my presence would prevail with you unto my bereavement,
the endurance of my love justifies all emotions
I create each day a gentle better milieu
And, within all of that
           Would we ever elevate our verve with radiance?
__________________________________

Lust and Love - Poesy - 9th May. 2016

I captured her scent within me
the stained sheets I sat on slithered
I could feel her as she tiptoed, searching for the pin, her hair untied
         the violet gown embracing her, withdrawing itself and clasping again
         the essence of her anatomy, etched in my mental cages
I ran thoroughly within, a shiver, a passionate heat enveloping within me.

She came over, stood closer than ever; her vibrations igniting some chemistry
I untied her sliding hair her violet gown groveled down
                                   as waves would bare the sand to us
I touched her skin; an insoluble brunt overtaking me
                                 she pummeled at the touch, embracing me hearty
                                 her breasts slowly clamoring onto the beats of my heart
a bountiful bosom delightfully sculpted; prayed for me to unbound
her upper lips within me;a whole bottle of Marsala, swallowing
                               a long walk in the the desert, quenched
                                      her fingers clutching hard the pain of the piercing nails
                                      pleasure and tender longings, clasping
Her soft bosom supple in its fondness, whispering into my senses
                                pleasure whipped within me a throbbing glee
I kissed her; her scent should stay unto my last hour
those li'l tufts of hair on her nape those enchanting spurts of perspiration
                                                         gliding down her thighs
them engrossed my every pore, clearing me thinking
Every kiss I poured, every touch I bestowed
                              she surrenders her will onto me
she clutched my psyche to embosom her
totally, absolutely
I gave myself up unto her, and in an exquisite moment
we felt as one, a vaporizing flash of singular identity,
of ecstasy, of stupor, of energy, of enslavement
a stream-less stretch of the soul, locked into that little corridor of love,
unfathomable to many a soul, profound even to both of us.

But that li'l moment, a paradise gained, the absolute spirit
and He just switched us off, so as we are mortals
and its not for us to find
                       for in its mystery, lay the sapience.

For you - Note - 7th May 2016

I was talking to you, of course, you were not there. But that is what I do. I can see you doing your chores, I have never seen you do all of what I see, but I love watching you and I love watching you listen with your eyes preened, your lips pursed, a smile lit on your face. There are a million reasons I love you but I always like the best reason of all, of why I adore you so.

For me, you are greatest woman in the world, the best lady there is, the most awesome girl and the incredibly sprightly gal to ever walk on earth. And what I love about me is people go about talking to you, meeting you, being friends with you and see you do what you do, watch you talk the way you talk and miss the most important thing about you. The passionate embrace of almost every topic that can surmise, the exuberance of cuddling the simplicity of life with an ever writ smile on that visage; they see a li'l of all that but your need for greater goodness around you, your constant endeavor to be right and the world around you to be more respectable and giving, your gratefulness of all that what you have and your ability to listen with focused attention all the time; is missed by people and I wonder what are they doing and how can they miss all this about you. But that is what I love about myself that I see it all the time and they don't and that does make me special.

I love you 'cause you make me special by opening up the vistas of yourself that you are not camouflaging but is opaque to others.

That makes this journey worthwhile, these words weigh in gold ,for me. I found you way too late in life but I found you and that makes my life a celebration, a gift that is unparalleled. I know we would never be together, but the gift you have given unknown to you is providence, a divine intervention in a godless me.

Note - Poesy- 7th May, 2016

This Misty fog hangs idly on the lake
I love the image of my home cradled on the idle water
An albatross hanging on the door
colorful, a spread of electric blue, menses red, shit yellow
dark death seems smiling within the cheerful tones
wind is blowing wild and high
droplets are spraying on my face
I still can see thru the haze,
Its blurred to my sister, cleared for my sight
I'd say I'm sparing a thought a lil while
For the man standing with the brown paper bag on his face
They don't see him, nobody does

They say I've a li'l bend in my thinking can now
they say the cold has wrapped around me
and me here I'm feeling the swarm, a li'l numb
Nice lazy and cozy a nice abyss
But I'm thinkin' of the man with the brown paper bag on his face
Why is he hiding within the darkness
as if in fear of the exodus
why is he allowing me the vision
as if I'm the messiah who'd speak loud of him
I'd say I'm sparing a thought a li'l while
For that man standing with the brown paper bag on his face
They don't see him, nobody does.

A crowd, numerous figures, of sizes and shapes
Traversing the zig-zag lanes
embracing the green around tall wild grass,
shades of brown trunks as if a swat by the brush
A single living soul unseen
I move on and along
I could see him, the brown paper bag guy ahead of me
seemingly in a trance, movin' along
no one else could; my mother, my sister; no one
Is he treated bad here?
I connect in a telepathic manner
he says they don't think of now,
All they say and do is "who cares"
that's the generation - who cares
I'm hiding within, its just one of my visits
I'd say I'm sparing a thought a lil while
For that man standing with the brown paper bag on his face
They don't see him, nobody does.
I'd say I'm Sparing a thought a lil while
For the man standing with the brown paper bag on his face
They dont see him, nobody does
______________________________

I love you more than the feet love to dance
I love you more than the hips love to swing
                    I hope to bloom in your love, I hope to sway in your love
                    I hope to reach the heavens with the love I've for you
I take my time to think about you
I take my time to thank about you
                               Its all but just about loving you.

I love you more than the green love the rain
I love you more than the tomb love the stone
                     I hope to bloom in your love, I hope to sway in your love
                     I hope to reach the heavens with the love ive for you
 ____________________________________________
It's a roller coaster ride, I love
                     but a roller coaster ride
You start a slow slide on a straight road
                         and then it all begins
Up you go, happiness floods in a sort of charming high
                        A space high up, serenity all round, but all high
the slide down begins, the fear grips you,
your eyes closed you are out of bounds
                    A space way down, quietude all round, but real low

Its a roller coaster ride, I love
                   but a roller coaster ride

Up again and carried straight to heaven
Cheer and pride seeps in as if in gallons
                   a space high up, tranquil all round, but high
Down you slide, into the abyss of hell
Darkness floods in selfish and tired tears stream down
                 a space way down, peace all round, but low

Its a roller coaster ride, I love
                     but a roller coaster ride

Its goes on and on and on
Up and down, up and down
And that's what I love the roller coaster for

Heaven and hell, bright and dark
happiness and fear, excitement and thrill,
sadness and energy, depression and sloth....
                                         It just moves on and on
and I'd say to you today, this lil thing
If you're feeling low, just remember even this would pass
If you're feeling high, just remember even this would pass
If you're feeling fear, just remember even this would pass
If your'e feeling  thrill, just remember even that would pass

What's the fun devoid all this mayhem
whats the fun in just going round and round
                       A dip and a high, a weekday and a weekend,
                       what's the fun of a merry-go-round
                       The entertainment is in the juggling
the handling of the climb and the knee jerks
                      and the exaltation of reaching
                      the abode that was dreamt
the path would have had a few heartbreaks.
                        Its like the pain in the torn inner lips flesh
Biting deep within the pain is insufferable, but still you bite
                                  cause the pain too has a lot of charm.

Its a roller coaster ride, I love
                but a roller coaster ride
and I'll always love that....

Poesy- Note - 6th May 2016

There's a violent storm swarming the throes of my thinking tube
                         It rumbles on with its whims and fancies
and,
             I'm numbed somewhere in the whirlwind
A myriad imagery of my journey's thru time
                    flow thru' in kaleidoscopic sparks,
just fractions, not novel visions
                  I'm torn within them as if flown around
Twisting and twirling, being thrown around bodily but
                                  the senselessness lies someplace else
as its the mind which seems to pendulate thru poles
                            The hideous aspect of thought: says
                   all thoughts even thoughts of endearment
seems meekly thwarted around
unable to grab itself unto a single cell, and stay
the focus does not stay on the leaf, the normal state
it flies around different trees sometimes even vaguely on to the brown
earth

Weird shapes carry people I know, rumbling down the hill
I am not able to save them
They just loose my grip always
I wouldn't know who they were as the next image
stores itself straight upon me
                        before I can conjure up the strength
to put a name to the image
But the view is enough to say, I know
                               Where are these people running
why are they descending down the hill
why aren't they floating above in rising goblets
                                   The fear is in the descend,
                the floating rise is descent and
It makes me, I'm going above the zenith
                      but this is nadir, and I'm reeling in its drowsiness

A strange semblance to my gal, you
                                  rises up from the ashes
you resemble a sorta goblin
                       but why is it resembling you
Its a death goblin I've read in those "R" comics
why you?
Oh no! its not you, its another float of imagery
                      Its an amalgamation of my mother's face and yours
In fact, mebbe its all the same
               cause you resemble my mother in more ways than one
 Acrylic on cloth, sand paper rubbed hard
                                           after ironing out the rust
a ragged imagery floats on the skin

The stories of old floats in
                 The black guy curses me calls me a "nigger"
The white guy on the left pulls my li'l nibble of hair
                    calls me "Cookie'
The Chinese guy in the corner curses & spits on me
                                            calls me "choco-nut"
The Hispanic is silent but a volcanic eruption
                        waits half way thru his heart
I'm stuck, cornered cause not a single face in the crowd resembles

Parched throats, deep within African peninsula
                                   They trade wives for American sausages
Beautiful black people
                                stark clean skin not a single pore to show
It's pitch clear and clean, the skin, as if
                                 squeakily washed every minute
I admire the passion for the new world,
                                a kinda poetic disillusion
of stark realities which we consider part of the game
                             Untouched by communication
They reach their brothers running miles on days
               The green expanse and the watery graves are there gods
We call them Heathens
but, they have a charming reach unto the nether world
they do not rationalize, the mind speaks only "WYSIWYG"
                    They coined the word much later in the new world
I'm enthralled by the simplicity of thought
                           there is no meandering
        The white man brought the confusions
and now they carry a gun to reduce the pressure within

I got a li'l bogged down whence I saw them
                  maim a li'l lamb to roast and treat me
for the li'l gifts I bestowed of fruits and sausages
But the scrawny looking elder explained
                  In a voice drowned in the celebration drums
'it's but a cycle the whole universe
                     I eat the lamb, if not me the Lion does
that way, I will be the fool
I excrete the refuse remains unto the dark floor of the earth
                either the earth retains its composure
as manure to its hot humid floors
                           or the pig brags about an enjoyable meal
it keeps going a cycle to survive
                            a beautiful cycle - never ending; created by god knows who;
I dipped my hands deep within the meaty inner of the roasted lamb
slept in delirium of the day;
                    I'm at the top of food chain


I'm in East Timor, fledgling forests
'Guerrilla warfare': I have this single word perched inside of me
                       Nobody is fighting but i can see this word
                       It's crumbling, electricity is a dream,
Broken down buildings house hospitals
                          even schools have teachers outnumber pupils
notebooks are rare gifts from visitors; social workers
                            pencils and pens are atypical sights
    its oral education, the human brain at its fiery best
Red paint, I've never seen a school with red color work
running noses, bleeding gums, but they're smiling,
         kids are always cheery
My friend goes click click click
                  says he wants to keep the images for posterity
for his Dane mates to say Woh!
                           it's a Canon, one touch zoom lens
another mate from London
                         chats half way round the world with her boy
Its Wi-Fi to us, its Voodoo for them
                         I smile at the Lucifer's li'l chuckle on the game

Brazilian slums, loads and loads of people
                              Chinese are a plenty,
One from Henan province tells
            they fled their country cause of the crowd
he's happy here, I've never been to Henan
                    They fight in Portuguese, it's pure cussing
the tiresome irritability that one acquires in uncontrolled conception
                         The daily grind, the fight for the meal
the continuous, grueling competition
                                  It is the jungles, back again
                                   If I don't eat the lamb, my pal would.
Its a big country they bragged - about theirs
I later was around books, geography
                       says, quarter of the country is Amazon,
                        the other half is the forest
Their arrogance is worth the effort
                     'cause I visited the forest and the basin
                       they are chopping everything hindering their path
                    Voice of the conservationist is just a murmur
the cracks and loudness of timber
                 and the greenbacks it carried is louder
New York city resembles another jungle from the top
                       It's a real estate guys paradise lost
ready to be regained thru' birds-eye views
                   they are still building around and about
                   I get a blurred vision of green - central park
                   It's tired and trying to breathe hard, asthmatic almost choking,
I weep
             This land of the nature loving Reds
              eroded by marauding concrete and human exodus
                                                    of every creed and color
                                      and they named it the new world
                      whose mistake was it that they found it late
'cause they found it late, they called it that

Vegetarian Asian - Indians swarm every corner
they pray the cow, here they make steak slimy and soft
They parade the grounds in some Mega-city or other
                                 Loud voice for the calorie frightened
                 a mellowed tone and unrealistic for red meat lovers
There's a catch
       I met one aficionado
                           he munched on skillfully made beef
                          he told me its the female that is god
     The male does not even come close
                                      Closet meat buffs, poor Bull.

I come from a land where hypocrisy rules - it's called earth
                        everybody is somebody else really
                            they act rather nice and easy
They are tuned in that manner
be nice with everybody, that's the big word - nice
                       they act and act and act
                       It's a dramatic display until the end
                      Grappling with the real me and the outside me
                       It's all normal just a walk in the park
              everybody shows happy with what they have
                     Its a world of happiness, no hassles
                    no disillusionment

Brenda from Norway flirts with me in Belgium
                                  I'm crossing the continent,
Flirting with time and space
Its a different world every time, you travel 3 hours more
                            She's on her way to Spain, running away
                             running from the dawn and dusk world of Norway
                             says she wanna feel the Sun on her anatomy
                             It's rather platonic her crave for good old Sun
The grass is always green at the other end
We always crave for what we do not have
And we forget the charm of what we have
Its the irony of existence, Sartre spoke so
                           It's never gonna change, Amen

Note - Poesy - 6th May 2016

Why is it that the doors are locked?
why is the sun shining the other way?
why are the windows bolted? always;
Would you tell me the stories,
locked within those crossed arms
why is it that you are so near yet so far away?

Engrossed within your own world,
dreaming dreams of eternal peace,
harnessing li'l white fences for tomorrow
when would you deviate from the penance
and walk with me to the paradise
I've recreated a million times
on paper, pen and mental imagery
for the one who evokes within me
the need to be loved and and to love.
To dream and em-bosom undefined glory
endless aimlessness reaching out
for the zenith of attainment
All for the one, in patience today, I wait.

And I ask unto you,
would you walk with me the pristine beaches'?
would you take my hand to watch the sun rise up?
would you be proudly by me when lights would be on us?
Would you unlock the heavy heart and pour
the wisdom and naughty nothings for me,?
why is it that you are so much mine and yet not mine?

You seem to be at peace, within yourself
preparing for some great tomorrow,
do you include this me who awaits that day,
how many a story I've told you in my silent thoughts?
how many a future path I've traversed with you by me?
dreams transpiring with you talking of your tomorrows
I'd love to walk with you unto life's last sleep,
your smell shall become a habit,
your kiss my manna from heaven
do walk that door once and open those lithe arms
And I'll carry you through life
as if there's no tomorrow, every day a gift.

Talk unto me, my dear, this day
I'll listen every hour, as, for me
Its a privilege equaling tales of wisdom
_________________________________________

Eloquence breeds from the way the roots where sown
How do you breed if the grounds where not fertile enough
Isn't there an intrinsic beauty in the long expanses of the desert
Isn't the bland cactus a personification of beauty
Almost everything has its charm,
even dirt has its charm
so do not speak to me of fertility and need based growth,
everything in its place is wonderful

______________________________________________

"Cold" - Jorge Méndez (Piano & Violin Instrumental)

Note - Poesy - 5th May, 2016

I do not seek solitude, dear
            not now, not with you inside of me
not with the love that abounds in me for you

in youthful amusements I ran towards solitude
            the peace infused itself in lonely tidings
I used to sleep in the sepulchre
 with dainty bones that stay silent
my mind filled with food for thought
            them bones losing the food chain superiority

the seclusion was a door to the unknown
  it bought me close to stars, the horizon looked next door
the stench of roses that bid goodbye to them souls
bought the poignancy of struggle and the dismay in that convoluted wisdom
my words became seekers
         
Why do know you? I seek life more than ever
         to continue to keep you inside of me
I seek to never go to sleep, everlasting sleep is a latter thought;
                 since when I sleep you run amock within me
               bringing dreams that I may not fulfill
I love to be secluded, but with you
       It is the same me, it should be the same you
 and we shall seek better passages
a pipe dream within a dream...
               why do I know you, solitude had its warmth....

Poesy - Note - 5th April, 2016

Death sleeps in a tidy corner, some place
           I think it is in the deep forests of Romania
Why? Romania
I dunno why but I feel it is peaceful there
the dust is less, the weather is cold and warm at the same time

Why does he get up and knock on the doors that I know
          is he the beast because it is permanence he carries
a defined movement to a peaceful exit
No, but he is not the beast nor is he the chilling pause
he is the best there is
             as nothing is characterized clear, as he is

why he? it could be a she
It is for the ease of the written word, no more no less

Many a door he came swirling through
        and took many a body that I loved beyond
I do seek to know why am I here, still
                   the departed souls beg to ask
       there are not many an hour I seek, but two
and this shall pass without a tear or two
              but my heart has been plunged deep
and the succor is long gone
the birds have stopped chirping, the smog has clad a mantle
    I bemoan every passing light
There is you but you are just writ in my heart;
            to hold a hand, to stare an eye, to snuggle deeper
I seek an apparition of you, and yes, it complies
           
But death is more precise, there is clarity in the purpose
        it's not a spectre or a ghoul
Death or love, longing is the story and my life lingers on....

Its a Sick World, Hon.....

I'm down in the deep depths hon,
                    I dunno how far more I can hide in this abysmal hole

a little orphaned girl, physically abused
I helped her smile in my own little way
              It took me a month to three for her to give me a glimpse
that her heart still has a flicker that can light a beam on her
       She started singing a week before
and when she spoke and sang to me over the phone
                  a light flickered in me - I can give hope

They flipped her shut, hon, again
               what is it this monster saw in this little girl
she had frail fingers and a tiny body
         none of her delights or smiles could pilfer lust
I am also a man, I can also see, what is it they see, hon, these monsters

She sat in a corner, not a single tear
        I just sat and watched the room closing in on us
a slight yellow light flickering
         the heat was cumbersome, the stench of sweat mingled with the grief
I wished I could hold her, hug her, take her home
         I could have, isn't it, hon, I could've

All this that my heart weeps for
           my brain runs into rationale
I sat there an hour or more
         not a song not a word not even an uneven breath
she did not even once glance at me
       I am also a man, you see,
She knows of me unlike the others, but she knows not, right, in real
   
how shall I try to pick up the pieces again
            Will those lips ever part for a smile

I need you to be here, by me, today, honey,
           I just want to be alone.....
You are the only faith I have left of humanity
               I don't trust no one and nothing
It is a sick world we live in...........
         my love
I am drowning in the sick smog that envelops around
            there is so much pain...
It drains, my love, just hold me for this day
               do not speak
touch me, just to let me know
               this is not a dreary delirium of  depressing decadence

Smile, Dear, smile - Poesy - 4th May, 2016

Can I bring you a smile from where I am, sis
        your smile can bring the charm back dear

dad kept his rage building at all times
the door had slammed hard at mom's face
         he was down near the stairs unable to hold himself

            I could see the shine of leather, black and lucid
the buckle was large, had a skull beaming back at me
                              it sneaked upon my thigh and then my back
tattoos all over, a little streak of red, to add to the charm

he was not content, he looked at you...
 I can still feel your little hands clasping in horror on to mine
the fingers crushing my flesh, the fear building steam

I think he could not rush you, chubby cheeks
   dimples, you were too tiny, but you lost your smile, then
your dada not perfect

the leather rasped back and this time my hand gathered the sting

we never got over that ever,
           he in his birthday suit, a minuscule cotton rag
          covering his essentials, a hard on in the fume, visible
momma with a gash on her face, breathing heavy
           still spewing her inconsistent venom
the three of us wondering why the clock is not ticking
why the stillness of the night sloths today

what bought his fury such grudge?
      he hated it all, the seeds of a grueling life
he hated the responsibility, the accountability
    he did not feel free
the wrath let him free, the dark somber clouds in the brain
                      cleared away for him

baby, you remember, as the lights went out
               they were murmuring and my sobs were absorbed in the air
you clung to me, shivering, snuggling
             you helping me, more than I, you
the air had the stench of dreariness
        there was the clockwork hum of mating
a wild unloved intermingling of bodies
             soothing their senses, frightening for us
as comfort shall not settle for them
                      and the day would gladly rise for another round of reckoning

I know, you need to smile, dear
                  for me, please for once, we need to share a real smile
can I bring you a smile from where I am....

Poesy - Note 3rd May, 2016

If I even contemplate walking away, every pore seems to hurt
                So I do not even ponder thus
I know you shall never be mine,
                isn't that too selfish of me to even consider such
I know it not because I am sure of my affections
              I know it 'coz society has inhibitions that it is not ready to shed
It is never for me to defy nothing        
               I have always walked away when the sun shone a lighter shade
Even an ounce of disdain or dourness would set me up
           to another world, to another domain, to another desert
I know of all deserts to be the same but I know not until I have touched
               hence I walk and I walk and am still walking

My delight in knowing you knows no bounds
          I'm perplexed at the tremendous waves within my heart
The skip of glee bewilders me but I name it my adornment
I shall carry you along with me to newer pastures, the hills and the valleys
             I may never see you again, that has been my story's effervescence
but I shall not shed a tear, gasp a breath nor scream a sigh
              for you are the one I love, for you shall be always the one I love
      and that you or the greater divine force cannot withdraw from me
That is for me to keep, that is for me to take
                            Nonetheless I shall never forget the grateful depth of my heart
           for you,
in wisdom, I bow, my lady, for your gift is so that even life has not been so endearing...

Can We- Note 3rs May, 2016

I lose sense of time and space when I am with you in my thinking can. But since yesterday the mist has fallen upon my expanses and there is lot of it. It is like a blanket that has covered every part. I cannot see anything, I know you are there somewhere but where are you. The visage blinks inside of me it comes out in full vision then it rolls back a blink persuading my desire to seek you more with my cells in tandem to help me in the seeking. I am not sure where we are going, hon. The funny part about most of this is I was never sure about where we are going. But that is okay isn't that the one thing that makes us move from one day to another because if I had known I do not think I would have met you. If anyone had known I do not think even I would have existed. It is interesting how it is all made a kind of allure setting in as the morrow is masked away but there is that faith of a better one. The summer slides in with its heat and it collides nastily with the body that I carry and my body does not know what it shall be taking up in the morrow but the body hopes that the coming day would be much more colder and there would be a sense of warmth in the air and the pollution would subside and the stench of the morning air would be replaced by the smell of morning flowers. Hope and faith about the next hour is what makes all of us continue to get up and walk and seek better taverns for better experiences.

I am on the look out for you for right now in my life, all that matters is you. A labyrinth of emotions settle inside of me when the floodgates open up on a single word that emanates from your delightful soul. I would grab on to that single syllable or whatever number of sounds I can fathom and I will roll in it ecstatic of your presence however far you are and bathe in the delight of the next few minutes of conversation. My world bursts out with colors -green, blue, purple, orange it is an enormous tapestry of blooms that takes the brain into a psychedelic trance. I have not entered this realm even in my moorings with Jazz, Hendrix and Morrison coupled with traces of chemicals.

I bow to you my dear, would you come home tonight so that we could look at each other and spare a little while in sweet nothings and copious amounts of tales and accompaniments. A touch, a kiss, a look exchanged I reckon we can partake in the blues as the fading lights would dim the shadows in my heart and the misty blanket of expanse that brings gloom to my daily endearments.