Sunday, July 26, 2015

The Morning Crow

There’s a brief moment when you first wake up where you have no memories, a blissful blank slate, a happy emptiness, but it doesn’t last long and you remember exactly where you are and what you are trying to forget.

Standing by the road, outside the corridors not very far of my balcony adjoining my home counterparts at those pretty much wee hours of an early morning, trying to breathe in the freshness of the morning wind. A Noticeable though attempt to the settled moist humid mud layered onto those fragmented laden winds and somewhere between those smudged unnoticeable track of clouds passing by, My eyes leaned down to my very existence of thy surrounding that must have had many a stories to tell. Unspoken unresistingly paused and cautiously mum by the morning still a fresh and new, to all those that was passe a night before and to all that, which was untold, unseen ,lost somewhere in the glorified sunshine peaking its way out from those golden outlined clouded skyline. One more day that made me day older, and a day wiser, caught into my chores of daily nuances, there was quite a bit left ,on the list to address to and get over with, by the passing day.

Pretty much noticeable, there came a crow ,struggling with a yellow piece of sheet of paper lying on the road, which had something stuck on to it, assuming it to be a rat most probably, I vigilantly kept watching the crow attending to this vicious activity. Trying to get off this thing off, the crow made several attempts with his beak, grounded on to the sheet holding on to it with one of his legs, despite the sheet went left and right, as I moved my head and eyes noticing the very playfulness chore of this crow who made an effort full attempt to break a leg. Meanwhile there was a group of several other crows that came down following the sight. By the time this all happened, the poor crow had somehow got one of his wing stucked to the sheet, and no matter how hard he tried flying around and letting it off him, he could not. Somehow he managed to take this short flight with the wing still stuck to this sheet, entering in this balcony of my next door neighbor. Everything by that time was hidden behind those parked cars and the rest of the crows followed him,and he was surrounded by an irony of kinds.

"People once believed, that when someone dies, a crow carries their soul to the land of the dead. But sometimes, something so bad happens, that a terrible sadness is carried with it and the soul can't rest. Then sometimes, just sometimes the crow could bring that soul back to put the wrong things right."

I don't know what happened to this little fellow, did he made up to his own rescue, coming out of it and feeding on to his fetched breakfast, or did the others made there way to it, and for how long it all went. There was this vague thought that was troubling me, this story about the crow ,who was thirsty and made his way to quench his thirst by putting pebbles in that pot, letting water rise, so his beak could happily reach inside the pot and he could no longer be a restless thirsty one. Pretty much with a positive thought provoking folklore that gathered in me the strength to forces and something made me sure, that the wit and effort would come in handy, rescuing every task ,no matter it be a crow or anyone for that matter.

"I was like the cock who thought the sun had risen to hear me crow"

I came back in, completely forgotten about what I just witnessed, with a bunch of flowers that I had gathered, from the balcony corridors that were fallen down on the outskirts. Letting them flow on the glass bowl full of water, kept near the window, to my room, that had by now a ray of thick sunlight falling on to it.

Strangely I felt everything making sense out of senseless nuances of a morning parody with no linguistic attributes that came into being.The crow, the wind ,flowers, and the sunlight came following this morning, just like any other day. It was just that I stood there outside witnessing it.. - A realization.

"Victims, aren't we all"- Eric Draven

Oh, something is there, waiting for me. Perhaps someday the revelation will burst upon me and I will see the other side of this monumental grotesque joke. And then I’ll laugh. And then I’ll know what life is. - Anonymous.

Tuesday, July 14, 2015

Come of Age - My Escort & my Cage

You look great, are you on a diet? No, no, no, I am not a fat little boy, and I know I’ve gained some weight. But you see, I happen to like pinching the rolls on my abdomen,

Fate. As a child, that word was often my only companion. It whispered to me from dark corners during lonely nights. It was the song of the birds in spring and the call of the wind through bare branches on a cold winter afternoon. Fate. Both my anguish and my solace. My escort and my cage.


Yesterday, mom put me to bed. She told me a story, a new one, she said. Her beautiful story was a tasty bait.Yesterday, i was only eight. I woke up with throbs in my head,My pink curtains were so white, instead. But, my dolls still stared the same.They never told me whom to blame. Was it mom who wished I grow? I saw her dandelions fly, as she used to blow. Or perhaps i have slept for too long.As she sang me my favorite song! My hair's now longer, my nails are French. I saw the differences on every inch. But, as well as i can recall,. I've never wished for this, not at all!


I still get very high and very low in life. Daily. But I’ve finally accepted the fact that sensitive is just how I was made, that I don’t have to hide it and I don’t have to fix it. I’m not broken. I must learn to love the fool in me - the one who feels too much, talks too much, takes too many chances, wins sometimes and loses often, lacks self-control, loves and hates, hurts and gets hurt, promises and breaks promises, laughs and cries.


Lately I had this lucid dream that the phone rang and it was my deceased mother. I knew it was a dream but I thought it was really her and that she could contact me in the dream state. I was frightened to talk to her but I didn't want to let that show and hurt her feelings, so I tried to act cheerful and make banal conversation. I said "Hi, how are you?" She said, "I'm pregnant‬." I thought she must have gone insane and think she's alive and young again, but to humor her I asked, "Are you going to have a boy or a girl?" She said, "I am going to be a girl." I felt more and more uncomfortable and said, "I've got to go now; I'll talk to you later," and hung up. As soon as I woke up, the dream sounded like a reincarnation statement but during the dream it just sounded crazy and threatening somehow.


The day dawns, with scent of must and rain, Of opened soil, dark trees, dry bedroom air. Under the fading lamp, half dressed -- my brain Idling on some compulsive fantasy -- I towel my shaven jaw and stop, and stare, Riveted by a dark exhausted eye, A dry down-turning mouth. It seems again that it is time to learn, In this untiring, crumbling place of growth To which, for the time being, I return.Now plainly in the mirror of my soul I read that I have looked my last on youth And little more. Below my window the wakening trees, Hacked clean for better bearing, stand defaced Suffering their brute necessities; And how should the flesh not quail, that span for span Is mutilated more? In slow distaste I fold my towel with what grace I can, Not young, and not renewable, but man.


There will be a few times in your life when all your instincts will tell you to do something, something that defies logic, upsets your plans, and may seem crazy to others. When that happens, you do it. Listen to your instincts and ignore everything else. Ignore logic, ignore the odds, ignore the complications, and just go for it. ―Judith McNaugh


All I know if someone did asked me" Hello, how are you"? I would reply - I am doing well, thank you, I breathe fire, but do not worry, I am dragon and I am invincible - Anonymous.

Thursday, July 2, 2015

Utterly, Buttery & Delicious

Live a balanced life. Learn some and think some, and draw and paint and sing and dance and play and work every day some. - Robert Fulghum

Scratching my butt's in between just anything to everything, makes me feel so prehistoric. Despite a well shampooed bath, and soap at every inch of my flesh recently, this summer seems to have made me behave like one itchy-chimpanzee.

"Its been a quadrennium & more buckets of water give me much peace, for as little it might be, adding to my essential survival remedy. Believe me I ain't a xerophyte. I need water too."

Weird times, you fall in a sleep, and by the time you get up, you have to think about what to eat and drink, attending to the left over chores of a day to day walks of life. and at the end you are so tired, doing noting. that you fall a prey to this viscous circle of yawns and a nocturnal lifestyle.

Well I decided to write this, with no good sleep coming to my avail, in a fully drizzling water cooler air conditioned state, rescuing my itchiness,with bare butt exposed to it, finding peace to my thoughtfulness with a clear,sober mental and physical state of lying down on the bed, listening to these fine instrumental classics & typing. I was somewhere in between these two fascinated ones. the left side of me, enjoyed the music. and the right side of enjoyed the blowing winds, water drops that have almost dried, that drizzled though and part of my flesh was in a state of warm & cold tempera, that made me shift myself upside down in between, taking breaks. gulping down to these delicious, few pieces of musk melon & papaya, that are kept in a bowl,next to me.

This next door neighbor, who I have know for pretty long, there were those childhood days when we used to interact much and did some art together. Seeing her lately again after a long time on the road, strolling by, with her petted four leg breed. Besides her, there have been several four leggers, who often pass by, and surround me with there two legged breeders. It was nice to ,hear, what's up from her, but then the conversation was as little as ,nothing much,you say, going on. and there it ended, before it even started.Thankfully somebody notice, that I still existed. I decided to catch hold of her next time, asking to share numbers, and connecting on the social networking means. But to no avail, could I see her lately, and today again, I saw her, but by the time, was busy dressing up a little more sober, clean and smart, by the time I came out, she had already vanished. I guess I need to be a little more handy next time. She looked young and beautiful then before, in a boy cut hairdo, I remember she had a pony before.Though in the darkness of this late evening, there was not much that I could perceive out, but as little as I did, there often were times, when you felt talking to this opposite sex. Maybe you could get a little worthy of a better conversation. & please don't mistake me for being a Don Juan.

Often I am in a state of too down to earth, dressed in petite state of the untidy,loose, body hair baring ones, clothes, that one could possibly avoid me. I tell you, this heat has been doing no good to me. As much ,I do pretend, wearing clothes, deep down inside me, I say to my self, remove them all. Now here is a Secret - I don't wear nothing, at all, when I am In. so I need to get up find clothes,dress up, and come to a sober state, when I need to come out of the box. Sometimes I am over piled then just one, & that are the times, when I try to fit in those over crowded, tight, ill-fitting clothes, that just look good on you, and make you look sober & mature. Why not. could we just no longer be kids, dressed in diapers, or nothing at all, all day long and had no worries and botheration at all.

To be capable of embarrassment is the beginning of moral consciousness. Honor grows from qualms. We are so vain that we even care for the opinion of those we don't care for.

Well lately, I have come down to a conclusion of walking and running away from this and that to a place away, where I shall no more fall into petite overrated bitter, hollow conversations,
that lack awakening characteristics and only cause lazy shuffle to the mental state of physical intolerance and jeopardize this state of pink health into a rotten one. There is so much that a little mind, often considered as the heaviest weighing part of the human bony structure.I feel disappointed with the people I have been doing face to face these days,there seems to be this peculiar state of no content, smuggled self centered, disoriented, vein and physic hysteria, that follows, and no matter how intellectual a dialogue could be brought into a conversation, there are only the remains of the ill odds that are there to chant & discuss, and Its like that viscous cycle of no talks, but never ending task of insane repenting over, dragging issues, merely pointless. the virtue of sanity degrades to a level of this hollowness, that find no path to lead to anymore on a positive note.I cant simply latch myself up all day long in a closeted walls and roof of my own boxed Pandora and meditate.too much of meditating would make me an old & dull cenobite. I could simple avoid the unnecessary hassle which followed me, or maybe I was the one following it for too long, and bumped into such buttering cheesy annotations over a conversation that was vague, and never existed to the core. I guess i need to hide up, myself a little, and try not to bump into odds of such conversations and faces, that are a such a negate chaos of utter nuisance.

I am so happy that dogs don't talk at all. they just make noises. & so the birds. and cats, and so on. so what if they ever started a conversation, we could never understand it, so it makes no difference at all, to no matter, what we could presume and assume, if they ever said, or understood to, what we say to them.

"When old words die out on the tongue, new melodies break forth from the heart"

I would rather sit and talk to myself, and let me hear me. See myself and let me see me.I need to hear no more, see no more, speak no more.specially the ill. I shall praxis thy and abjure by. if now that makes me a cogent Gandhian Monkey, Let it be. I would rather be this breed then anything else. I need salivated peace.

Meanwhile, in between the break, went out on the outer skirts,to fag,looking at the clouded sky, and a full moon night,- the moon- - more beautiful, little winds. Looking at it, I almost possibly forgot a lot of that I had.

In belief, it was a step in the right direction that would eventually lead to abolishment of the ugsome deeds befalling all of them & behoove me on a longer run.

- Anonymous