Proem

Everywhere I go I find a poet has been there before me. - Sigmund Freud.

The founding father of psychoanalysis has quiet aptly included the abstract intelligence of poets world over. In today's day and time when we don't have the time for ourselves and are trying to make something out of ourselves and ace the rat race, poetry is a breath of fresh air and waiting to smell back the flowers.
The etymology of psychology literally means the study of the soul. And poet's can be subtly called soul whisperer's. They gather the secrets dispersed in the air and present what science is yet to prove. Forgive my arrogance but inventions and discoveries are states of being and mind and matter but now let's come to chatter.

I have spent about twenty three years in this physical plane. And I call it so because the body must return to its natural state.
The brain can only facilitate. I try to not to rhyme as much as I can but it is in vain. Hence my definitive style is drawing inspiration from nature and affirm its qualities to the inanimate, thereby trying to substantiate that feelings are but subliminal and like matter are victims to manipulation.
Words are the breath that lend coherence to sound. Which in turn makes us turn around.

Now I shall introduce myself.

I have written parts of this book as different people. Of course my threshold for feeling has got nothing or maybe everything to do with it.
Sometimes I feel I cannot bring myself to care and sometimes I want to burn down everything I stare at.
Children and experience are the reason I write. Innocence and perceived existence.

The need to behave and resist. I calculate.

I take jabs at love as Dawn M Cornyone. I write about love as Mahamaya and paint as Manimekalai.


________

 I want to consume you with an undying thirst and kill you with my eyes as i birth you between my thighs and thats how im going to ride or die 

there is no dont 

only subjugate of a predicate of chosen disambiguuation

your own illusion 

Show Time Fellas.

Bah. I'm so uncool man.I'm the one who sits in a corner, watches the world move on and love taking digs at everything that does or does not seem to notice my existence. Also I love jeering at almost everything remotely insane,sane,paradoxical,juxtaposed, and Of course most of my knowledge comes from articles ripped off the Internet re- assembled neatly and tada you almost think I'm a genius. And then I see you revel in my oh so greatness and I make a mockery out of you as well to have decided to have been nice to a insensate dick like me. Woohoo, yeah baby now lets get ready for some Show Time Fellas !! Bring on the Action choreographer, woot yo mama bling bling. I also love, and by that absolutely love finding some or the other fault in anything that is not me. Oh man, I mean look at that shes like punk and probably colors her arm pit hair to match the color of her hair on her head as well, booo. And and that thing that lil squibbly emotard awww,was almost gay but got blessed with looks and so is called emo and not looked down upon as gay. Whoah, whore I'm so cool I can say the alphabet backward.Yeah, now as I begin to take a dig at the nerds who fucked my life back in school, I shall tell you their ugly and lame and yada yada. Oh my my are you laughing your ass off and beginning to think that I am the blessed who shall save you from perils of life? Dayum, I almost forgot the most interesting lot. THE FAT people. Im not fat woohoo.So I crack jokes and make fun of that. The FAT. Yeah now worship me I can rhyme too. Apart from making fun of 1.Nerds 2.Punks 3.Emotards 4.Hip-Hoppers Hell, why bother making a list, I in actuality love criticizing.I am a born critic. And I'm way too cool at it, man.You should quit aping me at my best. Apart from targeting the human species I also love shredding the most respected talent in the universe by giving it a few funny names and calling the fat lady fat and making myself scared of the lil egg headed creepy smile.I told you in the beginning, I make fun of everything. I'm fun, I make fun!! But in the end I'm just trying hard to study my misdoings under the light of others bad luck.Somehow I love magnifying their ills and deriving a laugh out of it.Who gives a fuck about karma.Thats for old women who are about to die and poor thinglets that spend their time over thinking. I think Im the best.So fuck the rest. - Oh yeah. After all I can find time to take a dig at others lives and make a laugh out of almost everything.Cause I don't really seem to have a life of my own. I love making people sound like shit.And I will live without people. Also I will find fault in everything, its my birth right whore. =| - The above text is not to be taken offense at sonny boys. Its just a laugh in the end right. A bit of role reversal aint hurt nobody. After all yo mamas got em birthmarks just like maine old hag. And we both in the end came out of that pussy right-o? So your either as good or as bad as you always seem to make me look, brethar (=

ginher

illicit dreams knock
upon her skin
all fazed and
ashed with sin

the knock
upon a friar's lair
wonder beyond
the chapel

what lay upon
the death of her
like soldiers
lost to war

this breath
i take
upon your beat
just in tune
with pulse
pupils beneath
the soft of his
eyelash under my
very skin

illicit dreams
knocked upon which
these
her skin her sin
his gin


and like a drunk
he spoke about


firebugs glowing
like the mellow
hollow of existence


to him you were existence
like withered wings
that brought bliss to
his mortal portal
of artistic hiss

in tiny breaths
upon each
bite
raise within thy skin
she grazed upon his neck
like snake would mean to sin

but those words she spake
those words make breathe

and she said she was his favorite
his game of fate
a war he said he had to fight
against this world
we live within
but what bout the wars beneath
the sin my sin of skin

and wasted like a gambler
he played the game of love
what lay beneath after war
were wild overgrown flowers
on his grave
shot everyday
and bullets laugh
through each pore of skin
tearing into it sin
of revenge and war and death
and bullets laugh
they say such a comical fate

the bullets again and gain
they put an end
to him that was ordered to sell his
soul
to gunpowder smoke
and we won the war
hurrah
but we sold our naked clothes

and so he crawled into her
arms
within the sin of gin
he drowned and wasted
in her ginger juice
her within, her skin
a finger dipped upon
the slip
merely bathed
and water dripped
beyond of course to adam's mind
after the birth of sin

but still he'd drowned into her depth
the valleys of her brim
dolloped in curves
that he'd bleed n bleed
the want
her skin
his sin

she crept upon his shadow
stole it covered it
sinned
his brim upon
the breath of her
his lips her morning kiss

in sugar coffee breaths
he lay in her arms
within
and in the world he walked
ahead of her
to take a bullet first
the bullet named for some another
shot through speck
through skin


away from the world
in full blossomed lips
a trap of lust
his sin
their sin
he wasted it in gin
his gin

Whats's cooking and what's thimp!?

There’s a sharp eerie chill and it’s going to come from what I’m about to tell you. Rumours are everyone’s cup of tea! Right from royalty being dwindled to a mere sad story to hauntings and bizarre disappearances that are all unsolved deaths. 

A state that is riddled with horror stories about the lavish extravagant architecture that they are scared to visit because of stories about dead bodies and mazes that no one has come back alive from.

There’s stories of people seeing people who are ghosts and some people get haunted because they feel a chill in their bones and have scary nightmares of these.

Are you scared of of your worst nightmares coming true? Because they are about to and before you know it, everything is spiralling out of control!

Tune in to find out what happens next on this space! ? 

Stranger than fiction.

It was the digital age and a direct message in her inbox, was his first move. Booze Wayne meets Black{w}hole. Soon after an exchange of witty banter and some sizzling chemistry, they decided to take this to a phone conversation. 

They talked all night. About issues like food scarcity, poverty, child labor and this became a ritual till one of them fell asleep. 

His voice was a serenade and her voice melted worries of the day as it turned to night.  There were giggles, pheromones and something like love in the air.

On one such night as they romanced, she said that her parents had the most amazing courtship before marriage. Love letters that were a family affair to not seeing anything but a passport size photograph before the marriage day.

He chuckled at the prospect of that happening in today’s time. And her eyes twinkled as she lost herself in his laughter. And she kept pointing out to him that she hadn’t seen his photograph either. He shrugged and said he would send one soon. 

They had a lot of things in common. He was a senior in her college, their aunts went to the same school, he lived in the same locality and counting would be tedious. But fate is a hard mistress! 

He had to move away for work. To another city. He assured her that they wouldn’t stray. 

As the distances grew so did the challenges.

All this while, she’d never seen him or met him, just had umpteen phone conversations.

His baritone was all the man she needed in her life. She had dreams of a man in a suit who’d serenade her as she was in the doldrums.

She dreamed if him like an obsession. He was her favorite addiction.

She has many dreams about him and most of them he was just a torso with no head. Sometimes, she’d see a burly guy with a beard and her dreams were her special place, because he was in them.

Soon, it got difficult to contact him, he was away a lot. 

Her issues about trust and loyalty were tested as she went through a mental breakdown. 

And she thought he was ignoring her. She let this destroy her. Not hearing from him was painful.

He was her rock.

She’d send him pictures of herself and keep writing many emails to him.

But there was no response from him. 

One fine day, deciding not to give up, she calls him and he sounds very upset and scared. Things were not too great for him either. 

She decided to pack her bags and go to his city.

But she didn’t have an address and he wouldn’t answer her calls. 

She tried everything to contact him. And finally on her journey back to their original hometown , he calls. 

He says that he is struggling with some addiction issues and he’s going to need time to get back to normalcy. And she cried and he assured her that he’s better than before. 

She would pray for him every day and hope that he would call her.

Then on one fateful day while cleaning, she breaks her phone and loses his number. Her only comfort and solace was now gone. She slipped into a stupor of depression. She was then given heavy doses of medication to be sedated. Because she only spoke of how she needed to see him and be with him.

No one would believe her because who in this time and age doesn’t see someone before they talk to them.

She wrote about him and love and when she didn’t, she was sad.

A few years passed. 

She remembered him saying that even though we are apart, we can still see the same moon and that’s enough, for now. So, she’d gaze out of the window for hours on end. 

One day on her walk to the garden, she hears a man, tall and burly and he sounds like the man she loved. So she follows him but he notices and gets into a car and drives away.

This is when she decides to go old school and email him. Every thought she had of him was turned into a poesy. 

It became an obsession.

She poured her heart out into those emails and wrote about how she couldn’t get him off her mind and even though years have passed, she’d like nothing more than to be in his warm embrace.

As this is a story about both and not just one person.

He falls in love with her all over again and decides to follow her everywhere so that she is reminded that he still loves her.

He can recognize her by face, but she can only recognize him by voice.

Now starts the journey to win her back. 

She would go on morning walks and stretch by the sea promenade. He followed her and he was wearing sunglasses, a a hoodie over a suit, because he remembered that she dreamed about them dancing together with him in a suit. 

At first sight, she thought it to be awkward and didn’t pay much heed.

She went back home and wrote him an email. She wrote to him about her day and then retired for the day. 

The next day, as she walked by the beach, she first notices a cab with his name on the glass. And it made her smile. 

She then walked further to see a man walk from the opposite direction, face covered fully with a hand napkin. For a minute she didn’t think much of it. But soon she broke into peals of laughter.

And that reminded her of him, he was the only one who even on the phone could tell if she was smiling her full smile or not. 

She is happy but still can’t believe her gut. She saunters home, and immediately writes an email, telling him to wear a paper bag the next time he is around her. 

And then immediately her face falls as she remembers that this is just a far fetched prospect of reality. 

And it had taken her years to move on from him.

But she still looked forward to seeing this mystery man. All these plans went down the drain, as the entire world was under a pandemic called covid19. 

There was a lockdown for a month, and no one was allowed to be on the streets.

This led her to forget everything and treat it like a coincidence.

Soon the days rolled by. 

After the pandemic, she began her morning exercise routine. Everything went back to normal. 

On one such fine day, she notices a man walk toward her with a beaming smile. She looks at her feet and walks on.

But that face, wouldn’t leave her thoughts.

Soon after she writes an email to her lover, saying she’s tired of playing hide and seek. 

And spirals into the rabbit hole.

She stops going out because it’s difficult and every corner, every stretch of road was a horcrux that reminded her of him.

One fine moon lit night, he comes by her window and sings their favorite song. She gets up and goes to the window to see the same man singing. 

And he asks to see her. 

She runs bare feet and finally they embrace.

And all he can see is a beautiful smile and tears in her eyes.

And to complete all of this, the rain pours down and they stay locked in an embrace.

Child is grown, the dream is gone.

I am in a place where I am getting answers to all the things I have been existential about in the past few years. Lets give it a number, precisely since 2012. Severe turmoil.
Usually good answers are in the question, itself. But what getting answers does is, it helps you ask the right questions. So here's to a year of asking the right questions.


a golden lining awaits
but it is often interval-ed
silver plumes inked in royal purple
maybe what evades
is just a shade you lack

Paint yourself in hues, dear  child
midnight, sunrise and wild
if adversity belies
you still have the universe
in your eyes

what do you seek
and what is sought after
is not but an afterthought
of lacking misdemeanor

repeat good behavior
till its habitual epiphany
time kills pain
and everything else;
matter(s)

don't run amok
spread your winds and fly
but it takes time to take off
before you can soar

wings are nothing
but fingertips
and impulses
raw finesses
my darling,
its all imagination
and darkness
sparked in the still womb
birthed
waiting to be shaped

Some people want to drown, are they not as adventurous as those that rise and fly?

Tense - wRap and roll.

The future and present walk into a bar,
the past was seated and of course he hath a pence and a pittance
There lay whence all upon brought together by the bar,
sequence,sorrow and war
it was tense
as all were seated hence
crime was on the television
but the bullets were shot
at the scene
where sat past, present and future
rue and sorrow
as we borrow
tame tomorrow
as we all are whole
there lay so many in the shallow.

I swag out yo
roll and throw
puff at home.
smelling for a bone
king of the dogs
yolo

Mambo Italiano - Rosemary Clooner cover