Beneath the amaranth
I have buried my guilt,
roots running deep into flesh,
entangled, she blooms on my blood.
She is there,
Spreading her tendrils of lies,
waiting for a hold,watching my steps
She grows on my sins
And the darkness churns in me,
sweet melodies of the fallen one,
she has the face of fear,
Her roots knows no end
Crimson stories told in silence,
is now etched on her petals
She drinks the gall of my life
And she sways in intoxication
I rot in her sensuous shadows,
and my sins are purged in her lust,
her roots running deep into flesh,
entangled, she blooms on my blood...
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Saturday, September 10, 2011
THE FINAL ACT
This number does not exist.
perhaps it did. may be it used to. but not anymore.
this is the final act. the act that you have been waiting for. the act no one wants to miss. this is where the story ends. this is the climax. after this, you can get up and leave the show. and watch another. perhaps, a better one.
the illusion of togetherness has always fooled man and always will. from the beginning and till the end of time. what was before time and what comes after it is the real truth. the truth that sinisterly resembles nothingness, void. the truth of all truths. the truth that life is a prisonhouse. and that one is getting punished for some celestial sin that one did beyond the realms of memory. to lead the life of a puppet in the hands of an unknown puppeteer is ever so miserable.
to think that one's life is not one's own. "It's my life" is the biggest lie one can tell oneself. cos life just doesn't belong to one. can anyone ever tell what's gonna happen in the very next moment of one's existence? Life is a blind walk through ways already drawn out for one. like cattle walking in the dark. a stinking dark. and you are just another cattle. walking slowly and steadily to the slaughterhouse. slowly and steadily and all by yourself.
they trod, they run,
they sing, they smile,
they rush, they ease,
and find themselves
in death's arms..
Life and its mad rush. Life and its pointlessness. The meaninglessness that resides in the core of superficial meaning. How long do one survive deceiving oneself?
Perhaps it's time for the curtains to fall. For life to fail. perhaps this is when you get your ticket out of the prison. When time ends, and you begin.
perhaps it did. may be it used to. but not anymore.
this is the final act. the act that you have been waiting for. the act no one wants to miss. this is where the story ends. this is the climax. after this, you can get up and leave the show. and watch another. perhaps, a better one.
the illusion of togetherness has always fooled man and always will. from the beginning and till the end of time. what was before time and what comes after it is the real truth. the truth that sinisterly resembles nothingness, void. the truth of all truths. the truth that life is a prisonhouse. and that one is getting punished for some celestial sin that one did beyond the realms of memory. to lead the life of a puppet in the hands of an unknown puppeteer is ever so miserable.
to think that one's life is not one's own. "It's my life" is the biggest lie one can tell oneself. cos life just doesn't belong to one. can anyone ever tell what's gonna happen in the very next moment of one's existence? Life is a blind walk through ways already drawn out for one. like cattle walking in the dark. a stinking dark. and you are just another cattle. walking slowly and steadily to the slaughterhouse. slowly and steadily and all by yourself.
they trod, they run,
they sing, they smile,
they rush, they ease,
and find themselves
in death's arms..
Life and its mad rush. Life and its pointlessness. The meaninglessness that resides in the core of superficial meaning. How long do one survive deceiving oneself?
Perhaps it's time for the curtains to fall. For life to fail. perhaps this is when you get your ticket out of the prison. When time ends, and you begin.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Death of a dear death
Death died a gruesome death, following the funeral of fear.
Funeral of fear, funeral of fear.
Death died slowly, worms kissed him and his body stank
His body stank, his body stank
Death died, in shame in torture he was raped
he was raped, he was raped
Death died the death of a fat whore
a fat whore , a fat whore
Death died all by himself, no one cried
no one cried, no none cried
Death died a dead death I was at his funeral
at his funeral, at his funeral
Death died, and lay shriveled in his coffin
in his coffin, in his coffin
Death died, I was there, only me
only me, only me
Death died, I miss him, I cry
I cry, I cry
Death died, death died, my beloved death, he died.
And I am alone, am alone, alone...
Funeral of fear, funeral of fear.
Death died slowly, worms kissed him and his body stank
His body stank, his body stank
Death died, in shame in torture he was raped
he was raped, he was raped
Death died the death of a fat whore
a fat whore , a fat whore
Death died all by himself, no one cried
no one cried, no none cried
Death died a dead death I was at his funeral
at his funeral, at his funeral
Death died, and lay shriveled in his coffin
in his coffin, in his coffin
Death died, I was there, only me
only me, only me
Death died, I miss him, I cry
I cry, I cry
Death died, death died, my beloved death, he died.
And I am alone, am alone, alone...
Existential Dilemma. Or Something Like That.
Should I be the pickle in the plate of one who is having a seven course dinner ?
or
Should I be the pickle in the plate of one having a meager meal of plain rice ?
I don't like pickles anyway.
May be it's time to be the meal itself. Or an ice cream perhaps. Or best yet, I will be the one who eats
Monday, September 5, 2011
Artemis
"Hush", he said.
She was merely noticing his shivering shadows underneath the street light. And how it circled him with each step he took.
You know, Orion had eyes of green gold. An Orionless sky was so unthinkable to her. Why would there be a sky without the fleeing hunter? Hunter with the heart of a lover. Hunter in the sky.
"It's getting colder"
She knew he wanted to get a room. Female intuition you see. Or was it just plain old commonsense carefully discarded by the road side. She tripped on it and fell. On the sense, I mean. Or the lack of it.
Wayside inns don't come in so cheap anymore. And dewy grass, a night under a starry sky, such stuff dont sell. Not even on Disney channel. So you'd better have money with you, I say.
"Do you have a rubber?"
Why would she? What are you in, kindergarten?
Men, she thought.Ever and always the same. And then her thoughts drifted. To the one who had disappeared from the skies. Orion, the most beautiful man ever to have lived. The mighty hunter, the untiring dancer, the lover of gods...
" Stop thinking, will you?" he hissed.
She knew he would not understand. When had he understood anyway? But she didnt want to chain her thoughts. Or abort them in the womb of her consciousness.
"Orion died in the skies", she whispered. He was killed by what was born of his dreams
"See if you find any medical store near by"
She knew what you wanted.
But skies dont have medical stores. And her eyes were still there.
Searching
Looking
Waiting
For a man with the heart of a woman.
* * * * * *
Now, that can never be you. Cant it, Mister?
She was merely noticing his shivering shadows underneath the street light. And how it circled him with each step he took.
You know, Orion had eyes of green gold. An Orionless sky was so unthinkable to her. Why would there be a sky without the fleeing hunter? Hunter with the heart of a lover. Hunter in the sky.
"It's getting colder"
She knew he wanted to get a room. Female intuition you see. Or was it just plain old commonsense carefully discarded by the road side. She tripped on it and fell. On the sense, I mean. Or the lack of it.
Wayside inns don't come in so cheap anymore. And dewy grass, a night under a starry sky, such stuff dont sell. Not even on Disney channel. So you'd better have money with you, I say.
"Do you have a rubber?"
Why would she? What are you in, kindergarten?
Men, she thought.Ever and always the same. And then her thoughts drifted. To the one who had disappeared from the skies. Orion, the most beautiful man ever to have lived. The mighty hunter, the untiring dancer, the lover of gods...
" Stop thinking, will you?" he hissed.
She knew he would not understand. When had he understood anyway? But she didnt want to chain her thoughts. Or abort them in the womb of her consciousness.
"Orion died in the skies", she whispered. He was killed by what was born of his dreams
"See if you find any medical store near by"
She knew what you wanted.
But skies dont have medical stores. And her eyes were still there.
Searching
Looking
Waiting
For a man with the heart of a woman.
* * * * * *
Now, that can never be you. Cant it, Mister?
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