Tuesday, September 23, 2008

the remains of a busted conscience

I felt wretched for what I had done and stood, staring at the stone,

pensive but repentant as a felon, trying in vain to repress a moan.

Stubs of dehydrated grass had buried the aged trail, at the end of which was the pit. I retraced the lost path with the aid of the sign post- the tree, still breathing. A few dry leaves huddled and held onto the twig on the edge, in obvious unwillingness to leave, indifferent to the breeze. The mirth of the ignorant ones in green seemed eternal. The same old sky stood gaping, bored by the weariness of being and like an unfocused mind. The graying daylight accepted the quarter of an insecure recluse in a fading white rag. Now my curiosity made way to nervousness as the edges of the ditch became visible through a maze of overgrowth. Time moved. I saw it moving backwards touching many spaces previously passed through .The sky looked alert and interested. I bent over and stared in with the faltering eye of an immoral. I saw the one boulder. Then I saw it. I saw the remains of the bone.

I swear, it was a feigned hunt,
an easy kill in front, a child’s mere stunt
just dropping a flat stone on the
entrapped chameleon.

I returned with the heart of a child, relieved, with the many children now getting back home after a game of football. The sky had vanished and the moon now watched over many other buried skeletons.

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Wednesday, September 10, 2008

a tryst with the moon

The round glow hid my dreams on the flip side and raced away from my vaporized moan; then out of the blue it hung around to gaze down at me, chasing me in my lawn. I lay down on my back to swallow the breezy radiance above. Love was in the air with a tinge of ache for the many beautiful moments stolen by the cloaked time.
A million love-drenched lakes and blushed cheeks sent out melancholic reflections, back to the scarred romantic.
Then I saw, hastily cruising past two dark wings, the petrified face of a lunatic, throwing ominous glances down at the creepy cemeteries where fearful dogs howled; and emitted ethereal rays for the crazy minds to seize.
It emerged cool and gentle having bathed in a thousand earthen water pots in diverse forms. The awareness of the impact of entire oceans lifting up to touch its invisible rim dazed my mind which saw mountains, valleys and great walls under its magic charm.

As I was still gazing at it and searching for the traces of the cotton seed that was blown up by the child in me, over the coconut tree to merge with it, a drop of dew fell on my cheek trapping its reflection.
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Tuesday, September 9, 2008

sound effects silent thoughts

Noise enslaved silence in its lap with a cord of correlation; effects of which were present since 'I was'. Susceptible to ruptures, silence appeared to be visibly brittle and breakable unable to show off its existence, but deftly obscured all worlds with a sheet of perceptible nothingness, hiding away all hints of its amorphous being. Amazingly unfathomable, though, became sweet-smelling, fine-looking and easy on the ear, the more one delved in ;as the inevitable Nearness drew in and assumed sovereignty over black and white,day and night, heat and cold, pleasure and pain,time and space .....and silence and noise.
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Thursday, September 4, 2008

a stifled sigh’s smolder

the weathered, rugged recesses,
raked up the
reek of firewood
and dry orange peels.
an ant racing
the dusty windowsill’s
cluttered mustiness;
wrenched wings in apertures
of busted glassy windows
reflecting broken expressions;
the stench of old smears,
burning charcoal
fanned by fumes of aches,
sad and longing,
the small niches
molding thoughts
of tangible abstractions
of a disheveled past,
reviving a wistful day
of damp dreams
where, time, an arid river
of vagueness,
filled the dream I saw
of my room
adjacent to the barn
in the northern side
of the old house .
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Wednesday, September 3, 2008

An unearthly hour’s anecdote.

I sat at the balcony and surveyed the gray night that spread like a shroud. The rain had just stopped, bringing up a heat that lay secretive underground, with a band of moths that circled the gloomy streetlight. The flutter of its wings betrayed what was to come with in a few moments but the relative time, the illusion’s partner, gave, as usual, a confidence to them as it does to all, about the imbibed concept of eternal life. They seemed to escalate the brightness of the idle light that reflected off their wings. The dynamism impressed me more than their presence of mind.

I held back thoughts, about life’s fleeting nature, stirred by the circling moths and looked beyond the opposite street. A few lights haven’t yet ‘slumbered’ in the blocks at a distance. Aloof in a corner of the firmament an aircraft flew silently, at times giving a faint murmur not quite audible to a languid mind. The rotating lights blinking and disappearing in to a world of fantasy. I tried to fancy the kind of people inside it, their images were as vague as the dreams they carried with them.

The strains of an old song long forgotten floated in the air. A cool breeze caressed me to make me comfortable in my indolence. Wasn’t there a pale shadow of emptiness that enveloped me? I could not discriminate between the feelings of monotony and weariness, the stillness of time had instilled. I looked further than and saw in the dim light the visage of an old man moving around in his room a few blocks away. I wondered what occupied his mind at that point of time. The river of time had flowed past, the last drops about to reach the destination. The old man now sat at a place and began writing some thing.

The moths were not many now. Some of them were now lying under the post, waiting, their wings lost. The neighbor’s cat so familiar with my household was loitering around the electric post playing foolish pranks. All cats behave like strangers outside their houses.

The blaring of a siren far away roused me from my thoughts. A fire engine or an ambulance? I gazed casually at the opposite house. The old man was still writing. The night sky turned to a dull gray. A few stars emerged .I didn’t know where the moon was. I looked at the cedar now fresh and clean from the rains. The tree seemed to rain, the lingering thoughts of the past. A bat flew in and hung on it. Wondered what it felt about this night, or day? It must be living where the world ended, only conscious of itself. I thought the bat was fortunate to be basking in the absolute truth of being. Who knows?

All lights in the houses in front except the old man’s went off. The night was beautiful. I could see it, feel it. There was a hint of fragrance of the night flowers in the air mixed with one reeking fish from the deeps a few miles away. The night sea would be magnificent and dreadful with snakelike frothy edges touching one unawares. Coming back to ‘the here and now’ my mind fell into a lull. An owl’s persistent drone rent the air. A scarred moon was now faintly visible through the veil of a dark cloud as the last of the moths disappeared. An old dog howled fearfully. I woke up abruptly; the dawn was about to break but it was still black. I gazed carelessly in front. The light in the old man’s house was still on.
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