9/22/2007

Wine Cellar

Our wine cellar has no wine,
just floors grown cold in Minnesota winter.
Cold floors where naked feet dance,
limbs intertwine, hidden from prying eyes
and eyebrows raised in scrutiny.
Here lips touch in an innocent but guilty
life, beginning but dying
to the sounds of Miles Davis
slowly seeping through the cracks in the door,
through the chatter of those who have lived no more but
in this moment lie resurrected.
Here our young lovers grasp for something:
the heat of each other's body,
intoxication in a world devoid of drunkenness.

Chad M.Zigweid

Tortured Artist

Poet, painter, sculptor, scribe,
I applaud your endeavor to elevate mankind
in this world of Phillip-Morris humanitarians.
Knowing the enterprise set before yourself
will be unappreciated by masses inhabiting
our assembly-line domain,
you push forward with your labor
to create.

Christine Kazimer

9/15/2007

Umesh.

Time:5:15 p.m.
Place:Sankars,4th Block Jayanagar.

After a brief shopping spree alone,I head to Sankars to browse books cos I really dont feel like heading home.Its festival and Im not excited about it at atll.And too many people dropping into my place.I go the Indian Fiction section and my eyes spot Mark Tully.I remember Vikram telling me that he liked Tully.So I decide to try his book.The book is titled "No full stops in India".
I notice there is also a coffee shop adjoining the book store.I order my coffee and get back to my book.My seat directly faces the manager of the bookstore.I realise this only after I notice that he has been staring at me for quite sometime now.
I finish my coffee and decide on my book.
I go to the billing counter and the manager has to bill the book for me.
I give him the book.
I ask him,"Are you the manager here?"
"yes."
"What is your name?"
"Umesh."
I say"I did not like the way you were looking at me."
He is caught off guard.
I notice his ears turning red.
He fumbles for words.
He says "Sss-ss-staring? I wasnt Staring.I wasnt Staring!!"
"Ok.Fine if you werent."
"I'm shocked why would I be staring at you?"
"If you werent why are you being so defensive?"
He giggles..
"No!No! madam,you are not supposed to sit here AND read the book."
"Well,its a coffee shop.I bought coffee too.Then you must put up a notice."
"No,no,its just that you are not supposed to sit and read.thats why I was looking at you.ok?thats all."
"Then you could have simply told me that I wasnt supposed to sit here AND read."
He says the same thing again and again.("No madam!we do not allow people to sit and read!No madam! You are not supposed to sit here and read!")
I ask him, does he realise he is talking crap?

9/14/2007

Back to square one you mean..?

You went back to what you knew
So far removed from all that we went through
And I tread a troubled track
My odds are stacked
I'll go back to black

We only said good-bye with words
I died a hundred times
You go back to her
And I go back to.....

I go back to us

I love you much
It's not enough
You love blow and I love puff
And life is like a pipe
And I'm a tiny penny rolling up the walls inside

We only said goodbye with words
I died a hundred times
You go back to her
And I go back to

We only said good-bye with words
I died a hundred times
You go back to her
And I go back to


Black, black, black, black, black, black, black,
I go back to
I go back to

We only said good-bye with words
I died a hundred times
You go back to her
And I go back to


We only said good-bye with words
I died a hundred times
You go back to her
And I go back to black

Courtesy:Amy Winehouse.

9/08/2007

Poetry.

Ok.Honestly,Ive been into poetry since I was 9 or 8.
Ive written some of the best ones when 15.
But then somewhere down the line I suffered a severe and serious handicap of creativity.I lost em.forever.
But I satisfy my creative lust through prose.
I did discover something.
Nothing can ever take the place of poetry.
Not music.Not singing.And definetly not prose.
So I bought myself a book of poems by Anita Nair.
Yeah,you heard me right.
Anita Nair.Who knew the woman wrote poetry as well?
I didnt know neither.Until now.

Here are some bits and pieces of her work that I really enjoyed.

"The debris of light;
The density of a starless night.
My forefinger my brush,
Glistening lamp black my paint.
When your eyes meet mine
In the mating pool of the mirror.,
My hand falters,
The line smudges.
Woman,you do not know what you do to me."
-----------------------------------------
Woman,let me match my longing with yours.
Let me sear your lips with mine.
Let me burn your flesh with my hunger.
Why then do you evade me now?
Is it that you smell the savage?
Is it that you fear who I was?
-----------------------------------------
Lord of the Universe
Master of destruction,
I stand before you
Unwilling to be cowered.

Have you ever felt
The bones of your child prod your palm?
Have you ever heard
The piercing wail of hunger?
----------------------------------------
I sell space,
Mortar,brick and
aluminium sliding windows.
Flats cost 960 per square foot
making telephone calls and
endless calls:
"Hello,can I help you."
Travel faceless in buses,
wrapped sandwich-like in
college election posters.
My belly pinched,
crab claws grip and tug.
I search for a face,
beady eyes,
several pairs meet mine:
bastard,I swear softly.
No one hears me.
Suffer in silence,
the shame of it,
for being treated like a fair
piece of flesh.
The conductor has no change
He likes my face,
gives me the ticket.
The man behind me growls in disgust.
Privilege and pain
come together.
Love and aching
are the Gemini twins.
-----------------------------------------
This is for real
the weight of this hand
that gathers me to the curve of a hip
and so as I lie
in this nest of bed clothes and slumbering flesh
I tell myself
this warmth is content.
The rest-
the foolish leaping of a vagrant heart
at a look exchanged
across a room crowded
with people and objects;
the feel of fleeting skin;
the ripening of hunger
will not trangress into tomorrow.
------------------------------------------------

9/06/2007

Norah Jones.


Rustic,Husky,melodic,too slow..
Call her what you like.
Too many people yelled at me that I sound like her..
Therefore rock music isnt for me.(gawd! am I disappointed!!)
Norah Jones.First heard her in 2002.
Like her or not..
You just cant ignore her.
Likewise. :P

9/04/2007

Crimson

Nice and gay thoughts fill the air.
Like the pierian spring.
And I heard the blue bells ring.
But it wasnt blue this time.
It turned green,then,orange..
and then red.
How?How? How can anyone loathe someone enough to have them dead?
To wish to turn that soul sour and cold forever.
But I think yes,perhaps it could be....
He had smiled when my soul escaped my mortal temple.A Second time.