Monthly Archives: October 2013

Imagine a human race like me

Imagine a world where everyone was like me…

image

(I‘d be the one floating on the left.)

There would be no earthquakes because we would all just be featherweights –with very low BMIs –floating on the planet; and there would be nobody throwing his weight around and acting like a bully.
Seriously, I don’t bully people psychologically or otherwise. People may have felt bullied by a normal part of me, but I try to discourage it when I notice it.
Also, there would be no need for parachutes –for same reason as above, Sherlock! Sincerely, he that is “humble” need fear no fall. I don’t shatter when I fall or commit errors or am having a rough life.

We wouldn’t need elevators up skyscrapers because –yes, you are right –I am long. Not just tall.
I really don’t know how to feel inferior. I have this delusion that makes me believe no human being is eternal. We be all mere mortals. Only one ultimate Creator. I really am not moved when a random mortal refuses to acknowledge the fact. “For his/her pocket!” Denying that fact doesn’t place the fellow above me.
So, there would be no bullying or inferiority complex. None to look down your nose at or humiliate and none can feel humiliated.

We would not need microscopes or telescopes because of the bird-eye I have.
And there would be no need for lie-detection. We know the next fellow is a human lie-detector and can see through us. No, that is not why lie-detectors would be useless. It is because we would all be smart enough to know how to keep poker faces –at the least –or throw the next fellow off with a misleading body gesture; and because we know the next fellow is thinking like this, we don’t bother trying to analyse each other. I didn’t mention the machine because the mechanical lie-detectors are way too easy to evade for this race of humans.

We would all just be nervous bunches of people suspicious of each other, not because we are actually evil by nature, but for the inevitably unnerving pupils that I have.

image

(Left. Tried rolling my eyes a bit so as not to scare you with my direct gaze.)

As a “complement” to my warm personality, my eyes generate atypical reactions from people who gaze into it.

Before I turn in the continuation at my next post, I would love to see links from commenters to their posts on what the world would be like if all humans looked like them physically. Nothing deep or philosophical please. The only exemptions I may possibly permit are Julien (of julienmatei) and Paul (of poesypluspolemics). A world like those two would be simply unimaginable. Hahahahahahaha!!!

Are you game?

Advertisements

Where my senile memories go

NOTE: I apologize for this popup-post since I am not due for another post until another week, after my post on mirrors yesterday. Now, knowing I have a couple of smart-headed followers, I will not say more than that it’s fictional. Yes. But if you claim it has splashes of reality, figures! As at now, I am not sure if it’s gonna be in traditional poetry form or just plain prose because a couple of us are on a campaign to ban poor works of modern writing shamefully mimicking wonderful traditional poetry; and even though I am regarded as primarily poetic, I still have to tread cautiously lest I be sent to the gallows also for crime-of-art.

image

(wise_old_man_by_poeheej-d2ynanw.jpg)

____________________
I have seen it all…

Nothing surprises me again
Born a twin to this madman, we experienced a lot of life together. I am more level-headed though. Years ago, I took up job at a new place as a sales representative. I have always been in this business of human contact and take particular pleasure in reading the human mind, besides manipulating it for the purpose of money when marketing. Sorry for calling things the way they are, but many of us manipulate others for various purposes. And sometimes we think these purposes are selfless. As if it matters! I AM NOT TRYING TO EXCUSE MYSELF. And please feel free to judge me. (Yes, I tire of this don’t-judge-me philosophy that’s on the rave.) In another life, I might have been a psychologist or a forensic expert.

Enter the new girl.

If you, Reader, are into fairy-tale mushy-musheries then you might describe her as the quiet sun minding its business, yet the radiance it gives at day or night cannot be denied, though it never blows its trumpet. (Sunstroke is more a case of one-man’s-meat-being-another’s-poison.) Or you might describe the experience of seeing her as a philosopher who tastes ecstasy that leaves him wanting more. (Wonder why I use the word ecstasy a lot these days. Note please: I discourage doping on ecstasy!) Or you might describe your feeling as a confusion/disorganisation that makes perfect sense to you.

Without any dilly-dally on shilly-shallies, we would meet at work and go about the day’s business with perfectly courteous professionalism. We would part at evening, after a long day’s work and would never even speak of catching a drink. No, not a date. Not anything fancy. Just a drink at a non-remarkable place.

The first year, I handled the feelings well. I had no desire to wanna know her beyond the immediate business at hand.

The second year was slightly more overwhelming. The little attention to HER that I deliberately denied her during the first year came back with a little interest. It was easy for me to notice some of those little things beyond her body itself. I know it’s a bit unfair on other men, but my involvement with humans have meant I had to train my peripheral vision. So I could see my environment more easily just like ladies can (since it’s been noted ladies have better peripheral vision than guys. This means they can spot the guys shamelessly eyeing them out of the corners of their eyes.)

The third year I became concerned –about my welfare –enough to wanna know more about her. Questions I would like to ask her –like “How are you?” at the start of each day, or “How are you finding the work demands on YOU? since it was her first working experience. I had absolutely no problem with walking up to her and asking despite the feelings I had. But I knew this all along, since the first year when the feelings visited me, that nothing could probably come out of it.

It is life, isn’t it!

The fourth year and the feelings have persisted like a tough climate over the Sahara. Definite. Undeniable. Unstopping. Demanding attention. Yet untouchable.
I would not even seek closure. What does that word even mean?

The feelings were heavy in my eyes
For any who cared to look
But I busied their lazy bottoms
With reading her body gestures
The feelings were lodged in my throat
I could eat and swallow hard
The feelings would make my heart skip
But trained in relaxation techniques
I’d sooner regulate my heart rate
The feelings were tied to my dreams and skull
But I gave no indulgence to daydreams

Days turned to years and my five-year contract was soon over there.
I never asked if her heart was sold out to another
If she would wish to see me another day
I never knew even her second name!

It was just another passing phase of life. It is just another thing that happens in life. Nothing surprises me.

Times in my life come and go. I remain unchanging right at my core.
Well, except when I mope about how those four years went without even a monument erected in their memories.

Well, here’s one. Till the day wordpress.com crashes.

WHY I DON’T USE MY MIRROR

BACKGROUND: I am a recovering blockaholic and my most recent episode lasted over four weeks; over two weeks of waking up in the morning to dry dusty unpleasant desert wind blowing into my protected tropical bedroom reminiscent of the dryness in my art-life; over two weeks of early morning thoroughly-scrubbing-my-body-in-an-attempt-to-get-rid-of-the-frustration-stuck-on-my-artlifeless-body baths; over two weeks of wondering where my eyes went as I walked generally blindfolded throughout life unable to see those hidden things I used to see –the hidden world, the hidden souls, the hidden motives in men that cry out so clearly to me usually in queer dialects. Don’t get me wrong, I could have gone down the road of just writing anything, or even a journal, just for the sake of blogging, but I write with my eyes, not my hands.
NB: I do not in any way shamefully ignorantly insinuate that those who blog to describe their everyday lives are artless.
I am sorry to say this, but the only crack through my writer’s block I am having today is a theme I am moderately known for and have been told more than once to write on less frequently.
——————————————

image

(Skeleton_mirror_by_Shadowangel1993.jpg)
——————————
WHY I DON’T USE MIRRORS

I know
I can see you, the sweet hair you pay due attention to grooming
Sincerely and politely I must say
You have quite an assorted collection of “weeds”
(Caution: I discourage doping!)
Blooming in that lovely forest up there
That speaks well for the well-fertilised soil of a brain you have
So rich with “the stuff” that you are eternally euphoric
You get so high and closed up in your world so often
Seeing things people don’t see
Seeing things people see in ways they don’t
That people can’t seem to understand you well
They ask you to explain what exactly you mean
And later to explain even the explanation you just gave
Worse yet you feel so grand and special despite all
In your most sober state you are grandiose
I ask what is the point of speaking
If you can’t really communicate with people around
Perhaps, one day you will feel pressed
But being so smart you will struggle with words
Simple enough to ask the janitor
The direction to the toilet….

I hope I bring out well the glowing form
Of your perfect lips
Full and firm
Dripping with wildness
Is art a curse
You very smoothly talk your way into men’s souls
Almost irresistibly
Because you happened to know the deep matters of the heart
Once upon a time
So, now you can speak like an angel
Like the sweet God himself
So that less than 5% of humans alive today
Can really tell your heart is as at this day vain and sly
For the lip-gloss that makes it look attractively slippery
Hides the acerbic acidic nature

Hahahahahahahahahahaha!!!
Please pardon my sardonic laughter
[Oh, and you needn’t worry about me cracking
And harming you with my splinters
I need you alive to come see me again tomorrow]
But you look like you could use a breast-reduction surgery
I get that you are trying to appear confident and collected
Believe me I know all too well about standing straight and tall
It’s just that you look too puffy
Like the centre of the universe
You are so vain one could see right through your chest wall
To the real intent and content of your heart
Hard to hide a heart so outstanding like yours
Sadly, few people could take their eyes off your awesome lips
To gaze lower down into your soul-pit

I should apologize I can’t exactly capture your heart
So clearly through your vanity
It is so grey
Muddled up with conflicts
Though fairy tales advise one to follow one’s heart
Well, thanks to what-I-do-not-know-since-I-never-leave-your-room
Your heart is lost in the greys
You can’t quite tell right from wrong
You call insane and warped cool
Your heart is the shape of a horseman riding the high seas
Gone gagaciously completely offshore
And you love the way you ride just like that
Your head stuck up your horse’s arse
(Caution: I discourage swear words!)

Oh your striking owl-eyes
Sharp and discerning
Your dewy-lewy eyes
Warm and mesmerising
I have heard you humans say
The eyes are a window to the soul
But your eyes mimic me
Hence my favourite body part
Your eyes reflect people’s souls
You see into them
And play the ball in their courts
It doesn’t help that you are into body language reading
To regular folks, you are regular
To the smarty pants,
You act totally regular and vulnerable
Not even showing signs you know their game
Your cover is good
And you don’t make a show of yourself
You prefer hiding under your skin
Well, that’s the fitting place anyway.
No wonder you hate me
Your mirror
Because whenever you look at me
You feel exposed
Not for the darkness in your soul
For you are not shamed of that
You are just averse to being exposed!