Friday, June 25, 2010

Years after Peruman: the Bridge, lake, sunset and all

When death remained, a chill
tapped the windows, we crossed
the bridge the umpteenth time,
water still tempted and gazed
at us mirrored like Narcissus
with his deadly lure

chill disappeared, we passed
the bridge, it's waters rippled
to devour our frowns, tears,
politics, theories of knowledge
swelled us up with a smugness.

the lake pontificates
this uneasy anomaly of life
and we inch towards death,
before our brows cloud with
this knowledge, it rains over
the lake, mourning the souls
lost in its welcoming depths


Here is my struggle to find
moths in stark daylight
or rap like a gangsta
stray into verses, stalk
the streets at nights,
the familiar darkness
and the dampness of the
pathways in my soul;
my mother takes to writing again
in her sixties, her stories
are sugar-coated, men have
halos and women are chaste;
my realities are bare
with the fan whirring above
no philosophy to deliver,
no rhetoric to proclaim;
I have no gunshots
to ambush my sleep,
no revolutions or wars;
I can only see my mirror
watch my woman swell, dilute
and go old day by day, the frowns
and worries that burrow deep
remain the same: existential!

Do I get the right pitch, falls
the staccato beats?
my scribbles try to 'connect
nothing with nothing'
it hardwires my memory to
oblivion or I try to get
some music canned into myself.

My pencil traces this charade
unemotionally, not questioning
its logic or anything,
with no philosophic condiments,
my tongue is barbed in
its own prison house of fear,
fear; that executioner's catheter,
honed in by shackles of EXPERIENCE

Friday, June 04, 2010

നിന്റെ വഴിയെ ...

നിന്റെ നുണമെയ്ത
നിന്‍ വഴി
ഞാന്‍ നടന്നു
ഒരു തേങ്ങലായ്

കഥ തുടരുന്നു
എന്റെയും നിന്റെയും


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