drowning instinct

Some thousand miles of walk
With tortoise like politeness
Upon the sea-shore
Upon the un-ravished softness

The ancient water touches the skin
Moistening the dampened soul,
The spirituality
While kites hover gloomily

This is to feel
The feeling of phoenix-likeness
With a bit cruelty and
Unquestioning faith in the sea…

I stand, allow the sea
To enter me and take me away
For a lifelong voyage…

I drown in the water and
I drown and drown again…

Until I learn adaptation
To play and feel and
To communicate with water
Until I become
A fish to be a part of it…

celluloid

Cut
Cut it
Cut them all
And there is blood,
Red poor blood…

This city-night not for
Street licking dogs
We the cold blooded
Don’t sleep any more
They need us tonight…
Now
Come, cut me
Cut us all
Make us boneless tiger
With some mighty teeth
to laugh

And we all actors
Street natural actors
Come and stand like
Nude goal post, perplexed:
Thighs apart for gang-ecstasy…
In the feast of extreme pregnancy,
Dance in fearful melody of mutilation
With skulls of medieval ancestors
And of modern descents

Skulls don’t have religion
Religion does have skull
Skulls, a few skulls it is
What they think and so laugh.
But with timely refreshment
With religious healings we will
Surely we will or may be
We minus I equal to We without I
Will come down to juvenile dilemma
To pee upon their burning eyes!
Then even you in a more motherly
Posture shall sit to feed us milk
Of your secular tiny breast soft

The skulls will laugh modestly,
You shall never know they too need
blood!
Red rich blood
Blood full of bloody communal arcadia
And
One orthodox director
With experienced eyes
On religious lens to say:

Light

Camera

Action…

to be precise

To be precise
I remained silent
And you sent me to school

Now
After thirteen years of exile
I scroll, come to you
With hysteric antagonism
Where you sleep alone vivid
Punctuation I feel the need of
You…

Pause…
‘Comma’
Pause…

I am stranger to your body curves
Fluctuation of your frustration knows me
I sit in European fashion and
My reluctant saliva melts down
To your unexplored body
Dryness where no one kissed you ever
My barbaric tongue keeps searching
With mild gesture…

Wind lashes cold upon your sexual inferiority
You go riding…
Up to psychic Philadelphia!
With all dogmas shattered
Only silence prevails ejaculated
Tilted oldness’ mockery
Sounds like snake’s hissing and
The tiny crocodile, gecko like solidarity
Beckons, Speaks with me
In the language I’m most comfortable with

With beheaded growing
I a grown up celebrate
A juvenile delinquency and
So on…

And, to be precise
The school bell rings.

in a smoky world

With smokes
Of injuriousness I sit apart, astride,
Astute callous smoke goes
Circling around, being immerged
In the celebration of a manhood
Funeral
And I join them…

Smoke smoky smoky smoke
Climbs the hill of experiencesiveness
Of fantasy, frustration of flowers and
Her mother-tree, of emancipation
Of childhood dependence tell me
The story of hardship, of mature dying,
Of wintry fertility…

Fountain and untouched statues
And a secret intoxicating memorial,
Some hidden treasury, monastery, dead
Ivory, wheel of education and lots more
Wither away with the wilderness of smoke
While I sit apart, astride.

Ferocious benevolence of smokes
Ask for acceptance and I laugh!
Laugh and laugh
With each laugh smoke laughs back
Smokes laugh laugh and laugh
Like witty shadow
Humourously alike…
And they all fly away
With the sound of smoky laughter…
Into the stretched mid-day sky
Of typical relaxation!

You sitting apart ask yourself
Will it rain shortly?