Xparticles

Forest

Kranthi — Thu, 16 Sep 2010 18:45:30 +0000

Shadows of morning mist lay over my mind
an unmistakable oblivion
through the clenched fists of forest trees, rose up worms and wasps
Drooping leaves riddled the serene pond’s curve,
about it hung the image of the tallest tree lolloping on the surface like a fibrous membrane,
lithe and supple
Through the woods, a charmer stuck his organ out,
sang while he billowed through the organ, splashed mud about his shins,
dabbed a low lying shrub under his heavy feet
Colour yellow dabbed the misty droplets
commingled over the naked green palms of the tree,
and the golden umbrella shrouded overhead
Wild cicada swelled their vaporous wings; perched atop
the furrowed mushroom, a tadpole gazed silently

Weeping bitterly, felled trees clung to the womb,
they bared the umbilical cords as the nurse skillfully ran her scissors through them
With the skin porous and numerous, a tree stood tall and watched.
The mirage that was the hands of trees and the mouth that was the darling mist,
forest treated itself, to the astonishing variety of birds and insects.
Life of many seems so pointless,
the many days and years that make a seasonal forest though,
all seem so gradually leading up to something grand and utilitarian

Craters on the moon, nought! Nought! Nought!

Kranthi — Sat, 30 Jan 2010 19:42:38 +0000

Pensive germs of exploration

wedded to pockets of thought.

Here laid a couple of stones

above the germinating seed; they burdened the life.

Farmer, he was oblivious;

Sun slanted to reach the undergrowth.

Twice a day, the seed fluttered.

**********

Life bent the source,

passed through the green stalk.

In the dark, it groped for direction

Helium monster guided it to light.

**********

Now the limp life stood erect

And displaced the stones one by one.

(They were now standing in the way of a cousin seed growing by the shadow of the former)

**********

And so, let us all displace

the great pile of righteous disciplines.

Let the thoughts germinate.

We will be guided by the helium ball of reason

let us live the life of freedom,

let us grow and see the light of reason.

**********

How would it be on the moon?

Would hair on the back of my wrist tease me disobediently?

Would the goose bumps glisten in glory?

Will the person slide along?

**********

A child flaps its wrists to manhood

Little shrub by the bank and a hilltop sways delightedly

Flame of expectancy burns one’s mind into ashes of imagination

Mind that reposes is a shame,

Craters on the moon, nought! Nought! Nought!

Wind whither flow you?

Kranthi — Sat, 23 Jan 2010 08:47:02 +0000

Wind whither flow you?

A lonely sparrow flitted through the gates of dusk

Into the shallow river of orange delight

*************

In the park, children played with twigs

Somewhere a swan rose up in the air

Crickets chirped and flowers locked their petals

*************

Someone drew a naked white ball’s silhouette above me

Covered my roof with a thick carbon paper

It has holes punched in it,

Through them glistened merrily white dwarfs in millions

*************

Lazily, an old man reached out for his shawl,

His forehead buried under wrinkles,

Puckered his lips around a thermometer

*************

With his legs crossed,

Seated on an armchair in his bungalow

Rolled his sorrowful eyes lodged deep in bony sockets

*************

Wind wither flow you?

Doused in red and orange, birds flocked hither and thither,

Dawn is here, the painter has seated himself above my glass roof

Cleansed it off carbon, dabbed it with blue

*************

Wind wither flow you?

From dawn till dusk.

Incomplete Potter’s poem

Kranthi — Fri, 18 Dec 2009 05:02:39 +0000

Balanced on the wheel

His life’s lump of mud took a shape

Moulded with his fingers, muddy pot

Enamoured, potter’s fingers creased the outline

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Uniform strips of jewels strewn around the neck

Lift and lodge in the furnace,

Until thirty moons suffused thirty nights

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Summer banks, heavy rivers

Farmer staked on a tree trunk

A sting of wire racked the radio

From pole to plough,

Ox to octave

Billowed the radio.

******************************************

Under the tall palm tree,

Paddy fields swayed and leaned over,

Tips tapping around and leaves shifting above,

The potter slipped into a dream.

******************************************

Rabbit madly digging up,

Dreams I dream!

Kranthi — Sun, 15 Nov 2009 14:37:33 +0000

I woke up this morning, my head filled

With images disoriented and disdainful.

In those first few moments, I let out

A gratifying smile

For a while

Sat as if I had forgotten myself;

Silently, still smiling, I sifted through

The images and I tried hopelessly

To remember them, but they slipped away,

Settled on the subconscious mind’s floor, far away

From my conscious grip

*****************************

Some I was able to catch hold of,

In those precious precocious moments

And these I stacked up

in the shelves of conscious library.

I swooped as a feather would

In stormy and baleful wind

Between ages and stages,

One moment I was standing on the stone,

Next moment I was gone

*****************************

I protected my sleepy state,

For I loved the dreamy landscape

Someone turned the light on,

Some one talking loudly

And yet another waking me up.

And, I persevered, oh! But I was still inside the dream

But I thought I was outside it. Dream spread its wings,

Bit me with its fangs

And I had lost it.

The perception and the sense of reality

*****************************

Here I was awake inside the dream, then the sleepy I

With a fierceful ambition holding the dreamy I

In the lovely embrace,

And I wandering resourcefully

(for resources I had aplenty)

And there were friends, room full of friends

There was the sky and the water, I flew in the later, swam in the former

Ah! Wonderful creation it was,

The I inside my mind.

*****************************

There was the I that was sleeping in the corridor,

The I that was running away from a music hall,

The I that was eyeing curiously a swan on the sea shore,

the I that was flying or the I that was swimming

and the I that was dreaming

(all of these doppelgangers in my dreamy state)

Not to forget the I that was in this world,

The one of conscious one.

*****************************

I hurled a stone into the pond,

Walked on the sea shore with my feet sinking in the sand

Merrily dancing away on a drooping branch,

Of a tree that was teeming with squirrels

And peacocks danced in the drizzle

With wings dipped in rainy water by the pool.

*****************************

And I could hold them all,

I flew from place to place, weightless

(oh! But not resource less)

There were people visiting me,

From my childhood

Ones that I had forgotten,

Ones that I had not thought about,

Not in the recent past, not ever.

I shudder to think what other concoctions

My subconscious mind is preparing

I am puzzled, I am thrilled,

I am game, for my mind is such an adorable place

Here in this small space and time that I live,

Only in my mind I live

It is so swell that I am alive

*****************************

The most oldest of places that iam confronted with,

The most unlikely of the people I run into,

The most challenging it it,

When I wake up in the morning,

And I realise, all of these images,

I no longer know if I had been to those places

No longer remember those people

My mind is such a strange personality.

If my mind were a person,

It would be so eccentric I presume

Or at least dissolute

And makes me more resolute

Of my life.

*****************************

I have found a new friend, that is me

In my dreams, I would like to meet him very often

he lives only in those moments, very volatile

but never frigid, for he takes me to places that I have never been to.

although I cannot remember his face,

I like to think that he resembles me.

I cannot remember his voice,

But I like to think that

It is mine. But I have never heard my voice?

I cannot tell if it is my voice,

I have never been conscious of my face. I remember all the faces I meet

But myself. I never meet the face that I am.

*****************************

Have I forgotten myself? My voice? My face?

How do I look? I don’t know. Perhaps I never knew.

All I can see is my hands and feet.

I wish I could know myself.

I exist in my head, and him I meet very often

But even he, shies away from speaking

He is faceless, his face dissolves at my gaze

And that brings me to the question?

If I am in the dream faceless,

Then who is this I that is watching always?

Who is this I that is putting manes to places and persons?

Who is it that is watching me in my dreams?

Is it me? But I cannot recall myself.

*****************************

Do I open my eyes inside?

Do I look inside my head at nights?

I seem to be too possessed with the shadow and the dark,

For my dreams are (I cannot recall them anymore)

Were they lit? were they dark?

And how is it that I am the spectator looking inside myself

When I haven’t looked at myself on the outside?

And I cast a light, and I see only so much,

What lies beyond the light I know not,

Who is the I that is holding the light, I know not.

Well, if aint hyderabad

Kranthi — Wed, 11 Nov 2009 12:43:52 +0000

Well, if aint hyderabad

the space of forever,

in the time of everywhere

————————————-

————————————

well, if it aint hyderabad,

soon! Said I, would repeat

my ramblings.

In this horrid sambarland

————————————-

————————————

My pepper and ginger, I miss

So far away from home, I said ‘yes’

my rusted sheets and dusted carpets I miss

So far away from home, I said ‘yes’

————————————-

————————————

well, if it aint hyderabad,

soon! Said he, would repeat

his ramblings.

In this horrid sambarland

————————————-

————————————

The corrosive lingo I miss,

So far away from home, I said ‘yes’

I miss the biker who dodged the cops,

Miss the throttling and idling on traffic stops

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Oh! The biryani I dream about,

With no relief and no doubt

What a pity!

This is such a terrible city.

————————————-

————————————

Irani chai, ‘saab’ the waiter said ‘sallam vallekum’

Here I am in this horrid zombieland

Sir, the waiter said ‘vanakkam’

————————————-

————————————

Sitting by the tank bund,

And watching budha, I thought ‘what is life’

Here, I am in this horrid lungiland

And all I have is this table stand,

And all I think is ‘when is life’

————————————-

————————————

My existence is a mutiny here

Ammu I have none, but my secret ramblings

well, if it aint hyderabad,

soon! Said I, would repeat

my ramblings.

In this horrid sambarland

————————————-

————————————

well, if it aint hyderabad,

soon! Said he, would repeat

his ramblings.

In this horrid sambarland

————————————-

————————————

Well, it aint it hyderabad

the space of forever,

in the time of everywhere

sahu sat as if on a stove

Kranthi — Sat, 07 Nov 2009 15:32:46 +0000

We danced that night,

In shrill, ah! What a frightful sight

With the music turned high for a tamil song,

we danced till four in the morning

trance, we danced for, turned the light on and off,

imitated the disco, ate maggi, each a half

——————————————-

in the bus station, a man was sleeping, sight never before seen,

while we drank gleefully, licking our fingers clean

it rained incessantly, we could not even hear each other babble,

as we sipped the black label

——————————————-

we got down form the car,

as soldiers in the war

and took to drinking and smoking,

as casually as a biker does riding

——————————————-

sahu did the signing formalities at the gate,

fried rice that night, we ate

sriman turned off the car’s head lights

and sahu wetted his pants

at unimaginable speeds he drove,

and I noticed sahu sat as if on a stove

——————————————-

well, we danced, yes we danced! Yeah we were lads!

First to MJ, then to tamil and telugu ballads

We smoke, boozed and danced, all fillings

to captain’s birthday and sachin’s masterful innings

Romantic farce!

Kranthi — Sat, 07 Nov 2009 14:52:56 +0000

‘is that the line dear’ enquired the starlet,

A little nod and the man communicated what romeo failed to Juliet

Sahu rested his eyes on her mane

And their eyes met on a virtual plane

Spss did for sahu what centuries

ago in trojan war befuddled Ulysses

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so close were they, in a brief pause,

she reached out for the mouse

sahu felt her naked skin,

and leapt out as if someone pricked him with a pin

the spss outputs mattered the least,

she cunningly left her lappy aside, the beast

—————————————————

‘the line sahu, what does it indicate’ I asked pleasingly,

And sahu, besotted as he was, ignored me casually

even the lecturer was astonished, ah! sahu’s freckle

she heartily congratulated the new couple

—————————————————

it was a day like no other, sahu saw his hopes lit,

ragingly worked out outputs in spss as if orissa’s progress depended on it

on his head, fumes rose,

someone exclaimed, and sahu froze

everyone urged him to save it,

for the future of mankind depended on sahu’s kit

—————————————————

towards the end of the class,

left the lass

sahu nervous though he was, put up a calm face,

through out the romantic farce

portrait of a workout freak

Kranthi — Sat, 07 Nov 2009 14:11:31 +0000

He lifted weights,

Until his trousers went completely wet

Stood before the mirror,

And marveled at his creation, oh what a horror!

So famished was he,

That no amount of work out could set him free

Bound to the dumbbells,

He drank milk full of protein pills

Soon his biceps grew frightfully,

And he shaved his chest restlessly

——————————————————-

Consumed with the glowing muscles, he began search for a tigress,

And he submitted subconsciously to the endless nagging progress

Soon, the bloke found a female,

Alone at night, his theatrics made her pale

So, he was cast into a case study,

And discussed in girls hostel, while he was still preparing his body

Then the night before the event, some one laughed at him, oh he slipped on the floor that was damp,

And, gym walked on the ramp

——————————————————-

And girl after girl approached him, thanks to his shaving,

Fervently knocking on his door craving

And gym persevered, made an appearance on orkut,

Many blamed him, for it was a short cut

But gym pursued, visited all female profiles,

Sent friend requests, and some files

Of his bare chest,

On his holy quest

——————————————————-

And, the girls reciprocated,

With visits, they clicked

On gym’s photos, but secretly gym was dating another girl,

Oh not the girl of the night who creaked with a shrill

As a follow up, gym sent messages of masculinity,

by showing up late to classes with a cup of tea

and a teacher noticed, but gym handled it coolly

infatuated, she graded him nicely

——————————————————-

he visited Chennai and bought bottles of protein,

ah, he had a liking for ladies that were lean!

his desktop had one of the kind he liked, she had a sway

his trysts transpired and he eventually saw results coming his way

the new mirror in his room he liked,

so much so that he imagined himself james bond

Oh! sahu drank to his glorious past

Kranthi — Sat, 07 Nov 2009 09:30:34 +0000

Weathered and withered the man left his home,

And sailed into the civilization’s dome

———————————————

He was a man of courage and conviction,

So he toiled his way through the verbal and quant section

GMAT, he prepared for, in a desperate caress,

While still the memories of sea were afresh

Awaited the results hopeful of a new life,

Wrath of time, he succeeded to persevere, for he had no wife

Soon, the results were declared and sahu joined great lakes,

The defiant tension did not last longer, for he fell prey to trading quakes

Day and night, he stared at his lappy, and paid the prize,

While the food on his plate was eaten up by rats and mice

———————————————

So terrible was the overpowering desire to enter the pussy,

That sahu, in his thirties sang and danced as if he were still a teen, oh he was such a wussy!

Mindless and aimless he wandered between manamai and kalpakkam to feed himself,

A nomad, he had become, regressive states took him to his former self, the wolf

He dreamt of the past life in bed,

The dolphins he caressed, the chimneys he embraced, and tears he shed

Memories of the past haunted him,

The rolling of the ship he missed, fishes invaded his nightmares and the situation looked grim

Torn and tortured, his doppelganger infested his amorphous brain,

Sahu pat and maimed his self ego, but bruised and beaten he was left with scars and stain

———————————————

He grimaced, mimicked, acted and enacted his other self,

The fatigued person eventually filled his empty cupboards with maggi noodles in each and every shelf

Pitiful but aging, spiteful but starved,

Sahu’s rage consumed him and left him battered and bereaved

And, one fine morning he woke up with a start,

For somebody told him that he could make a difference with a fart

And, sahu finally left hi spast behind him,

And played caroms with the man in a restaurant and the light was so very dim

He drank to his glorious past,

Leapt up with empty smiles, he whined in the actor that he was cast

But the short film was not a success,

And he went back to studying operations and processes

———————————————

The endless strokes of disgust he forgot,

His past he forgot, to the extent that at present he was a maggot

He drank his tea with dairy whitener that his lover gave him with a thousand kisses,

And wondered why he left his past life filled with fishes

He pulled his money out of the stocks that were rolling on a descent,

But felt drawn towards the whirlpool of market, as if he wished to recreate the past in present

He purred, licked his feet clean, developed gills and a stem,

Hs dreams were not a total folly, for he visited Singapore and china in them

He was seduced by the lap dancers,

And beaten by the cantankerous bouncers

Salsa, he practiced, not with his girl but with a bottle of whisky,

Had a crush on many a girls, but the depressing fact was, it was risky

It was the night, sahu awaited, and dreamt in times of crescent,

To dream and never to return to the horrible zombie that he was at present.

———————————————

He ran away from his life, fingered the machine in the class,

Regretted his decision that threw him asunder from a beautiful lass

He ran and ran, took pleasure in being the first to stand in line in the mess hall,

Hitherto he enjoyed the company of nature in the ship by the fall

He mourned and tried without much success, to quit smoking,

Surprised by his own efforts, he wore, underneath his trousers, women’s stocking

The endless strokes of disgust he forgot,

His past he forgot, to the extent that at present he was a maggot

———————————————

Assignments and presentations he did with severe compulsion,

As he sided with his own inner compunction

He would rather turn into a morose tale written by the deviant of all the artists in orissa,

Than keep his lips pursed and pretend as if he did not care about the geisha

Orissa’s state and his mental state, he barely managed to argue for, so he ended up a foolish naïve aging old man of his time,

Who could not even balance his testicles on two pans with a dime