Category Archives: Poetry

eyegame #1 : the crisis

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eyes in utter
impoverishment
desperately
searched yours
in an awaited
mergence

but when they met
in an instant
dramatic act…

mine threw away
from focussing
yours’ drawing
magnetic ones

…out of ?

perhaps
a combobulated
mixture

of infinite craving
and intense love
masked
in just opposing
demeanours

of a racing self-disperal
of an enacted ignorance
of quickened movements

but why?

when the need
was in embracing
your rendezvous

Just wondering
if the same chaos
dug you so deep
and  sweet bitter
stirring a crisis

this

love

[it’s] ‘warring’ past

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bitter frost of “it’s” past:
ulterior vermins, absolute
venomous in any reminiscence
and worse, masked themselves
invisible in a guerrilla warfare

..the grips gotten all over it, crept in
asphyxiating until its emptied out
desiccated core..trying all ways-
their typical ugly-tactical
squeezing seizure, these gangsters

it’s expected inglorious fall
in sweat and chilling discomposure
..was as trystful a clinical neverfoundland
as was their utmost distressing retreat
in lunatic-ally dismayed forfeiture

work-in-progress, the gift

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her orange box

needs work, a
final touch, you

know, perhaps
surprise inclusions, an
indigo wrap in selection

a purplish satin ribbon
in whitish heart out blurbs

with a customary
stick-tag overall

the red cloth
stuffy bear
doesnt seem
to be one
till now

her will
is at place
at pace

time: a
notion, a
currency

don’t
shame
her

love

image

shackled, in the bitter breaths of a bleeding past

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as she descended down the striped
metal steps so swinging
up and down like a hung standby ladder
by her lightweight steps swollen above
with heavyheartedness,
the terrace free airs thinned
to almost nonexistence
though slow-swayed copious
of still Moringa canopies, choking
her with such unadulterated
crocinous bitterness

image

unlike the instantly flashing
Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s words:
” It was inevitable: the scent of bitter
almonds always reminded him
of the fate of unrequited love.”
these oleiferous leafiness
scratched afresh
past hypocrisies
and loaded vengeance
that backstabbed,
all in the name of love

But then again
his words that dug in
subsequent
gripped befitting:
“…time was not passing…it was turning
in a circle…”,
when her caged birdheart
struggled frequent
in the clutches
of past episodes
that stuck as prolonged
feverish tonguebuds
neither burnt out nor high
but floated as persistent
unweeded thorny stubs
seeded deep down
the windpipe until beatenup
lungs shrunk, cornered
in disarrayed clumpy mess

her prematuredly scribbled wall of a wise artistry

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sandwiched
like an impossibility

between
the mysteriously familiar
‘angerest ghost’
like my own colorful shadowface
of an ‘inquisitive ‘ nomadic soul

and the symbolic demon
inner, that haunted and still did
in fluttering paintingles
of an asymmetrically-birthed
butterfly
with lopsided abdomen
and crookedly
spiraling-in sensors

she wisely? tucked in
“our happy home”
just where we three lived
hoping against hope
swimming in the inhaled freedom
of a dangerously lived life

enshrouded more in peace of darkness
of our own sprawling human selves
and but the many unsettling hands outside
that tried curbing
by flickering torches
in disguise of penetrating sunrays

image

there we were
where we existed
beyond existence

how well the little girl
picturized

this enormity
of lightness in the gaining

In and Out: of a typical south indian ritualised eve ..and the unusal skies

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the uprising caffeinated clamour
of filter kaapi flavoured aroma
sizzles
as it  fuses in a zigzagging mishmash
with the slow-ballerina swirling pooja agarbathi-s
of even more complicated fusions
of what they
say popularly: mogra kewda
javvadhu saambrani
champaka rosappu
marikkoluzhudhu
manoranjidham
and whatnots

arousing ‘nostricintalling’
senses in starched up stern~inhales
all in that
fiery-tiny packed up
‘matchbox’ typa living room

outside, an expanse in seeming quietitude
as if standstill yet in looming mutiny
within an extended Indian evening
of a confused monsoonal summertime
hesitantly

drowned
in a partially clouded twilight
surprisingly
more clariant

with the beaming eastside
fullmoon goddess
gleeing over
the opposing skies’ studded
spectacle

the unidentical twinlike
rare-shone jupiter
nearing for liplocks
with its
counterpart in brilliance

the constant venutian charmbloom

no other tiny flickering stars
matched this painted surrealism

of a haloed nightish bluegrays

best kept away they were
tonight, like
alien glowworms

for a palette
unusual yet befitting
the beauty beheld

in infinite immensity

of the specimens, dullened to be transcendental

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[spotted one by one the potential suitables for ‘dead’ly showcasing, one (un)fortunate dusk. and they were…] 

fading pastel peach 
of this drooping bulletwood 
budbloom 
reminiscing 
its sun-gaze days 

fallen magenta-ish 
senescence 
of the corner planted 
hardy shrub’s 
basal sprawled leaf 
curling 
in withdrawals 

ironic to their names and origins and preceding existence 

[added some more near-similarities lately, fractured twig 
fragilities in stampede, spritely fanta-ish yet suicidal 
petallic shields prematuredly detaching off, etc, etc.,] 

these made it there 
‘collectibles’ 
in the herbarium: 
made mummified dehydrates 
drying dying dead  souls 

might they be 
from a lacklustrous time   
a clouded extradark dusk 
or the thoroughly neglected 
geriatric shedoffs 
in striking xanthous hues 

those 
making absolutely no difference 
either to the bulged bumblebees 
in their heady pollen loads 
or the unpredictable 
vagabond winds 

in page-compressed burial with each specimen 
were the obvious questions of lost reasons 
as well as their once-breathing 
instinctive needs 

that all got numbed 
well before 
spreading sparsely from their core
only shrivelling faster 
detracted from their own margins 
more because of outer worlds 
pulled back 
to its humble origins 

liberating from 
desires of the ‘alien’ unknowns 
those envelopes fatally 
had remained just theories: nuances 
of relationship intricacies 
in complex sexual tangles   
with delightful teaser tactics 
of advancing formulae 
rolling out naked 
in entwined acrobatics.. 
ahh, the wasted love-bond 
extensions 
never got coupled 
until anytime 

what if they were in their senses? 
they would have 
infuriatingly 
denounced even faster 
of what was garnered: dreamt uniting entities   
been tired of scribbling voluminous scripts 
in metaphorized cryptics 

hard-pressed truths 
remained surprisingly visual 
of their lucidly branched 
abstractive winglets 
from constricted veins 

whose depths 
were still impossibly impossible 
to be reckoned 

the such meddled 
crosssectioning explorations 
broke out of hands 
a puff of dustful airs 
  
dissolving homogeneous 
with unknowns 

bigger nothings 
of the unitary 
everything: weren’t 
in traceabilities 
of their many 
singularity 

but got 
elucidated 
to be selflessly 
freeformed 
‘mingularities’ 
of a type