Tag Archives: life

THE LAST DANCE

 

If looking through your window in the rain doesn’t move you, or even looking at this picture doesn’t touch you, then you need to see me for evaluation.

Finally I have seen it all

I have seen all the seasons of life

All different kinds of people

I have learnt all there is to know

 

Time to dance to the last rain

 

Gradually these clouds gather

Heavy nimbus clouds

Carefully in formation

These kinds don’t come by accident or regularly

These dark clouds over my estate only

They snigger playfully, sardonically, as they march in place

And soon some sweet little rain drops show

They trek carefully down my windowpane

In sync with those down my cheek

In-between these drops I see seasons of my life gone by

 

In-between these rain drops

I count the many blessings I have enjoyed in my short living

I see the many smiles that have wrinkled my old handsome face

The bright mornings I woke up happy and strong

The sweet quiet times strolling in the midnight

The awards and honours to a distinguished psychiatrist

Who has seen the chaos of men’s souls and survived

The wealth I have amassed and shared

 

In-between these tear drops

I count the many sorrows I have suffered in my short life

I see the many frowns that have wrinkled my old gravely face

The grey mornings I have felt like lying all day crying in bed

The loud weary times toiling away in the sun

The dilemmas and confusions of a chronic shrink

Who has not remained the same after seeing the mind’s darkness

The heartbreaks I have amassed and caused

 

I say no word

It is loud enough as it is

I am still quiet and peaceful

Totally at ease with the clouds in my world

I have cleared my house and sorted out my affairs

The stage is wide-set and the audience seated

They wait happily for my debut

For how I dance as I exit

At the applause of a million showers of the last rain

____________________________________________________

BACKGROUND: I find myself recently constantly wondering how actually short life is. For anyone like me who runs a tight schedule (and I can count many of you that I have met), you occasionally scold yourself for not stopping to breathe or enjoying happier moments than when you have just completed some project and soon you define your moments by your professional/work accomplishments. It’s only occasionally we do this because we are way too busy to even indulge in such thoughts. We soon are lost in our “slavings-away”. For all the drama and activities we go through as humans, the whole story seems so short and pretty incomplete for a movie producer to even make a timeless classic from.

Here’s a little reminder and toast to the fact. A reminder that itself will not last long. A reminder that will be gone and forgotten with the first drop of the next rain over my little tropical city.

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a song for my itch

Say the words
Speak these words NOW
You can choose to read them
Or sing them like an acapella
You may even spice them up with a rock guitar
But please let out these words like you mean them
Read these lines to me just as I am writing them
Just like I have written them
Only then can I cry

 

https://i1.wp.com/0.tqn.com/d/space/1/S/G/9/1/EarthBallBlack.jpg.jpg

Who knew a lot could happen inside such a small round ball! (Source: http://0.tqn.com)

 

Listening to these reflections of my pain
Hearing these echoes of my frustrations
Will be the magic to unlocking the floodgates
Then I will cry
Then I will let it all out
These words are the ones that can cut into me
And start the bloodletting
Say them just as I have written them
Miss no line or cue or punctuation
Every letter has been put here with care
Every letter symbolizing every day I have lived with pain
Every word symbolizing the different sorrows that plague me
Every line symbolizing the years I have bottled up within
These words I could never get to say out
I have no means of release
Even as I write these lines
I feel minimal pain

From the times I have shaken my head
At the person of the Browne
The masks we humans use

From the days I have meditated
Upon the ironic portrayals of the Trent of the planet
The collective tragedies of our race

From the moments I have wondered
At the Tango’s stories of the family
The seasons of our lives

From the eternities I have sighed
At the Shard’s dirges of personal dilemmas
And the fight between humanity and divinity

And who’s to say how far we know or lack
When Julien keeps speaking from his abundance of knowledge
About how useless man’s knowledge largely is

The dark and cloudy days

Take it in step
Don’t rush the moment
Don’t drag it
Let me hear the words gradually
Let it escalate patiently kindly
Remind me of the sad state of humanity
Tell me something I didn’t know
About the depths we are exploring
Newer depths we might sink into
Deceiving ourselves it is the search for knowledge
Truth and liberation
Has the bar ever been lower
Remind me of the ridiculous drama
We all have been auditioned for
A game between fate and choice
How pathetically ironic
That we should quarrel over those two
Don’t rush it
In fact, this is where you take a pause
Avoid a premature climax
Break the progression to the peak
You’ll take it up later again

RAPED

RAPED

[High-pitched melodious music]

A newborn baby is born

https://i0.wp.com/i.telegraph.co.uk/multimedia/archive/02183/baby-max_2183067b.jpg

How innocent! *sardonic snigger* (source: telegraph.co.uk)

 

I came into the world

Pure and innocent

Through a round, soft, most-abused road

The road travelled by all men

Both sages and fools alike

I was completely unbothered about the strange environment

I was invincible after all

And for my sake alone the universe had slowed

 

Then the buxom midwife raped me!

As she snatched me from my mother

And cut off that soft secure attachment

Like a sexual sadist roughened me

A patting here, a smothering there

Said she was trying to make me cry

She told my mum crying babies made her horny

She then rubbed oil all over me

Just the way she liked it

And mom looked on

She had even dared dip a dildo* into my mouth

Said she needed to suck out the mucus in my throat

I knew I saw something creamy in that sinful tunnel

Same tunnel that had traversed the road from whence I came

The sinful tunnel

Used by sages and fools alike

On the round soft road

And I could swear this cream was going into my mouth

And not coming out as she lied to my mother

I cried!!!

L..o…u…d…….

Mom smiled

Her baby was crying

I wish I could tell her what was happening to me

 

I was being defiled

I wept for what seemed like hours

Mom later told me I had cried at birth for about 50 whole seconds!

 

[Spit!]

 

The midwife had fondled with my fragile sinless gonads

Said she was wiping off the meconium*

Is coprophilia* even real?

 

Finally, rest comes

God rested on the seventh day

I was settling down on the eighth day

When the doctor pulled his stunt

 

This paedophile called it circumcision

As he clamped my innocent sweet little hot-doggy penis

And he cut the crown of pride away

Yet he wasn’t sued

 

Eventually I grew older

 

[Sigh!]

 

Oh father, dear father!

“Son, once upon a time I killed a lion.

Santa Claus lives at the North Pole

God is a sky-giant-djinee who lives to grant all your wishes”

 

[Spit!]

 

I am in for a life of lies and trials

Rape comes in different circumstances.

 

{To be continued…}

Word helper:

Dildo: Should mean an artificial penis, but I think what the midwife used was the regular suction tube for newborns.

Meconium: the first faeces of a newborn, usually stains the pelvis.

Coprophilia: a sexual preference for faeces. It’s a real condition. I did not make it up. Google it.
__________________________________________________________________________

BACKGROUND: As any frequent visitor might guess, this is a bit too vulgar for my usual themes in writing.

Anyway, I stumbled upon bits of this I wrote from a while ago and it seemed very appropriate to develop and finally post. This is because of how I feel when I consider the state of humanity and planet today. I feel I must repeat: even though my writings seem mostly cynical, I actually have good thoughts regarding humanity generally. Despite these good thoughts, the sad reality is: these are critical times to bring a child into, and I wonder what I will say if I should make it to the close of this century. I wonder how starkly different the next 50 years are gonna be, in everything –science and technology, law and crime, morals and spirituality, art and entertainment, ecosystem and energy.

This very thought is heavy enough to keep awake all night tonight.

Rainy Life’s Seasons

crazy man in the rain...

crazy man in the rain…

Sneaky winds jump around the sky
With joyous malicious whistles
Dark clouds gather together
In sadistic congregation.

/Intermission/
No! This is not just another rainy day
Another bland nature poem
Nor a hifalutin attempt at shameless self-aggrandizement
By a writer with inferiority complex

Carry me out dear nutty wife
Lovingly throw me into the open
I love liberating feels of breezes
But just a shell-y man scared to get out

The feverish anticipation
Of what weather holds today
Makes my body shake ecstatically
Like it happened last night

One by one
I lose my selves
My anxious personality
My prim obsessive-compulsive

The showers start
I look behind the clouds high up
Asking, daring the Creator-God
To do better than just showers

Ha! But I know
He can do more
I tell him I can handle his worst blessings
Tell him to come out from behind clouds

Then

From around the corner
The flood pours out
Across my village cottage
On a hillside

I throw away my cane
Bloody old man that I am
Take a gladiator stance
Look the blessed flood in the face

Flood hits me in the beard
Creator stifles a snigger
Flood sweeps me off my foot
I start to drown, laughing

Shame on me!
For all my boasting
Steee-rike one n’ I’m out!
Sliding down the hillside

A shameless old man
One-legged, dancing
Drenched in happiness
In a flood of rain

Screaming out a holy swearword
“God will be the death of me!
Hee-hee-haw-haw-haw!!!
Hahaa-hahahaha!!!”

BACKGROUND: I am probably one of the few species of men *eyes rolling* who show genuine appreciation for many different seasons (though I favour a burning sun least of all). The rains are officially starting in my part of the world and I never tire of how refreshed and invigorating it makes me feel.

the rain's awe...
the rain’s awe…

This evening, it brings to mind the many ways I play with the Unseen. As true as it is that science has explanations for many things, it does not make a case in court AGAINST the unseen and non-material wonders that exist here. The two sides can coexist. Forget for a moment the [visible] people that misrepresent the invisible.
I remember past happy seasons of my life… from the shocking big blessings… to simple pleasures like raining showers on my skin. And I am making new happy memories. In the midst of many difficulties faithfully stalking my daily life like psychopaths.
The Creator has got His ways!

A nail to the head

image

(Source online, unknown)

I now stand tall proud loser
Gracefully holding my head
Empty of any sensibility
Hence easy to bear
My heart beating passionately easily
Because of the hole in my chest
Letting out the heavy sea of blood
The heart normally has to cope with

So, after my head empties out,
What next?

I boldly display my monkey-tail
Put up as I scamper away in frightful flight
From all the stark raving difficulties
Faithfully stalking my daily life like psychopaths

Then banging my head on the floor
In manly resignation to the insanities chasing me
To end up contacting ifeelshadows.com
So the kind Doc. can help nurse my mental bruises

I throw hands up in the air waving like at a musical rave
Poetically exclaiming the hopelessness of it all
Before even my penned hands get tired and chained
For this whole homicidal act on the dignified person of poetry

And I lie on my damp bed
Stinking un-bathed soul
Drenched with rain of sorrows
So cold in this life I can’t get dry

Never mind I am shivering epileptically
And I have to cover myself
Keeping me further damp, sticky and stinky
Yet You(God) don’t stop

But in all this call me sad –a sad, sad man
Because I see even no relief or sense in suicide
I am no judge in this frame of mind
But least, I was sane enough to analyse my hopelessness

What do You want from me
Will You be happy when I let it all go
Throw out my life
And hang myself on a cross?
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