This is a wasteful, tiring day, and i have seen many like this
Same old everything, doorbells ringing once a while
Thinking of how my father and mother will always be within whatever i see and how i see it,
given the fact that the i came out of him and swam through her to find my nest inside,
and of how i slept in the darkness – my last unencumbered sleep.
And thinking of faces i have seen before,
Of the desirability of warmth from the senses
Of how i want to watch a soothing movie with Florence Nightingale some day
Of women i love and of women i want to love.
It’s not ennui or staying up all night and drinking that makes me this,
And it’s not carrying time like a crucifix or a pushing gigantic rock uphill only to see it roll down
These things have their strange way of slithering their way in
The worst part of living is just this, ‘being here’
And the worst thing about leaving is to see your faithful dog staring at you until he becomes a part of the horizon.
No new music in the laptop, feeling too lazy to get aroused at anything
And here i am.
And the weatherman just said that it might rain in the evening
That will surely make the night sadder than the day
Just like the moon is sadder than the sun.
Are you reading Bukowski right now, just like i am?
Are you scribbling your thoughts down?
Are you gaping at the splendour of ugliness as well?
Are you as ugly as i am?
I haven’t seen you since the day i left you by the fountain
You were reading a book, with pictures of sunflowers in it
And the previous night when you fell asleep after we made love
I saw the moon pouring down on your forehead
I kissed you forehead, i remember
And i slipped a letter inside the book which you had planned to read by the fountain
the next day.
But that day, i.e., the day i left you, you took a different book with you.
I loved your whims.
And so i left you.
One has to leave what one truly loves.
Did you read my letter?
I haven’t seen you for a long long time
I miss you and i miss the tiny mole between your breasts
And i miss the poster of Al Pacino which you had gifted me once and which i have lost.
But the best part is that, i miss your ugliness
That was what drew me to you, because it reminded me of myself
My mother was beautiful, but, unlike her, you were ugly
That’s why i loved you as much i love you.
Conspicuous, like flesh, we walked down the dark corridors
And we fought with open knives
And we drank, and our remorse was far too great to hang on to
And our heads were filled with every bit of junk we had fed ourselves
And one day, it was time to leave
So we shook hands, and we left
And then, when the entire city got flooded
We met, once again
You were with your girl
I was with my dog.
The girl and the dog died halfway through
And we knew that we had no destination to reach
However, our paths were different.
And so we parted again,
And we shook hands once again.
From my poetry
Revealed to me
And what else can i say?
Tell me more.
If you’re my mother, i shall fear my words
If you’re the empress of my adolescence
I shall refuse to bow to you
But if you’re the dark i aim to reach some day
I don’t know what i’ll do.
Maybe i’ll kneel down to pray
Or maybe i’ll attack the stars with my dagger.
The germ that caused my illness
can be found everywhere
From bleeding skies, burning cities, from bombers who cry and poets who kill without remorse
From drawn up curtains and from skirts pulled up
From vast and vacuous spaces inside our thoughts
That germ can creep up from anywhere, anytime
And once it infects its victim – things start getting bleak and dry
Words become desires and desires become words
And then, one day, the transformation is complete
And you can’t make one from the other
And things get serious.
And when the great doctor comes, you see him and you know that he can cure you
But you don’t want to get cured
And so, the sight of him standing there and staring at you
But he persists. It’s his duty to do so.
You expect the doctor to pull out a nasty looking syringe from his bag
But he merely walks up to your window and throws it open
And he points outside –
As you look, despite your reluctance, you see that all the people outside are suffering from the same disease.
you get mad at the doctor
and you get ready to punch him –
But by the time you turn to him
You don’t find him there
He has left the building.
Or maybe he never came.
And then you look out again to find all the people smiling at you
‘surely you are happy, aren’t you?’ – they’ll ask
Surely you are happy, and so are they.
They never had any disease, and neither did you.
In extreme cases, you can blind yourself before the doctor arrives
But the moment everything gets dark, the germ dies out on its own.
So, as you can clearly see, you are bound to get fixed,
or the other.