“The critic has to educate the public; the artist has to educate the critic.”
- Oscar Wilde
15.8.10
16.7.10
butterflies and hurricanes.
The world was passing by, like a hurricane to the eye. Caught in the middle of it was all of my soul. Bruised and blooh, sat there untamed. Oh those songs will never be the same again. The clouds will never rain. The birth of a nation was in its destruction a zen once said. And tonight, I shall wear the dark robes of a nihilist and thorns on my head. Bleed from within and smile with my eyes. Walk like a man, secretly fearing all.
Prologue:
She was the lady of broken dreams hidden in laughter peels. Painted on her face were the clandestine secrets, the wind borrowed and dispersed into the stale of midnight. When she raised an eyebrow, arching it with subtlety. Men dropped their guns and rose to their manliness. Oh how she wished she could play the harp and be a celestial clout in a lost black hole.
She had walked many rocky ridges decorated by falling autumn leaves. Crushed.The brook seemed to gurgle tamely as she walked by. Matted were her locks, like honey combs.Her heart was the forest fire. Burning down mercilessly.
And as the horizon took birth in the skies womb ,
many wandering souls, she fed.
Out of her own gatherings ,
she bled, she bled.
Walking by the shore to wash away her woes.
The sea was an invitation of the heavens and just one last step. She would vanish into eternity.
Eternity of the dead.
Cantata:
As she pulled her parasol of seasons,
dusting snowflakes
the hem of her skirt lifted,
a rain of wet wild
many a men, wasted
and somewhere ashore a cemetery
the wolf howled
serenading the moon,
and there she was,
dancing down the cathedral steps
“Mother Mary came to me”
wearing an autumn leaf crown
on her head.
A curtsy and a bow
Who was that, above?
She chuckled
And flipped her head
Her paramour washing
Into the eyes of the beholder
Like a wave that comes to shelter
And just like that,
Back into the ocean she fled.
Elegy :
And as I got up and left the edge of the earth. Back into lifelessness of self, I accepted reality and its fate and listened to the violins in my head. A sonata of parodies, paradise and perdition.
A sense of loss at its best. A fluttering butterfly now dying, came and sat across my palm. And I wondered of its cocoon ? Those colours, delighted many eyes and many lovers held hands. But tonight, who shall lament this little angels death?
Prologue:
She was the lady of broken dreams hidden in laughter peels. Painted on her face were the clandestine secrets, the wind borrowed and dispersed into the stale of midnight. When she raised an eyebrow, arching it with subtlety. Men dropped their guns and rose to their manliness. Oh how she wished she could play the harp and be a celestial clout in a lost black hole.
She had walked many rocky ridges decorated by falling autumn leaves. Crushed.The brook seemed to gurgle tamely as she walked by. Matted were her locks, like honey combs.Her heart was the forest fire. Burning down mercilessly.
And as the horizon took birth in the skies womb ,
many wandering souls, she fed.
Out of her own gatherings ,
she bled, she bled.
Walking by the shore to wash away her woes.
The sea was an invitation of the heavens and just one last step. She would vanish into eternity.
Eternity of the dead.
Cantata:
As she pulled her parasol of seasons,
dusting snowflakes
the hem of her skirt lifted,
a rain of wet wild
many a men, wasted
and somewhere ashore a cemetery
the wolf howled
serenading the moon,
and there she was,
dancing down the cathedral steps
“Mother Mary came to me”
wearing an autumn leaf crown
on her head.
A curtsy and a bow
Who was that, above?
She chuckled
And flipped her head
Her paramour washing
Into the eyes of the beholder
Like a wave that comes to shelter
And just like that,
Back into the ocean she fled.
Elegy :
And as I got up and left the edge of the earth. Back into lifelessness of self, I accepted reality and its fate and listened to the violins in my head. A sonata of parodies, paradise and perdition.
A sense of loss at its best. A fluttering butterfly now dying, came and sat across my palm. And I wondered of its cocoon ? Those colours, delighted many eyes and many lovers held hands. But tonight, who shall lament this little angels death?
back and forth.
Dear friend,
The horizon was beautiful as I held the conch.Distant resonance of the entirety of the universe,I heard.
Like the rolling of mighty waves into the womb of wet sand.
Back and forth.Back and Forth.
I walked the shore line, circle after circle.And somewhere between the end and the begin, I was a bird.
Eating out of the palm of Mother Earth.Flying freely and shooting into cold indigo starlight.Maybe I was a satellite.Who knew, do we ever?
I live by the shadows and swim into its umbra.Because water takes the shape of the vessel.And I sometimes talk about politics and the Nation.
I see floral skirts in summer skies and gusts of wind and some fun.
I saw love and it is,vain.
I saw years and autumn leaves.
I saw young lovebirds and the fall.
The fall of what? You tell.
I see life and I see a mirror.
Telephones ring and I feel like reality.
And I don't like it,really.Because with it come the past and future.
So I go back to hiding in umbrae,swimming in fathomless oceans,diving into perdition and my bed was on fire.
So I dusted the burnt bedsheet, put the ashes out.
Warmed my palms in mittens and forgot about stimuli.
I read the news paper and shed too many tears.
I mocked the government for far too many years.
I washed love off my linen.So what? Do I pick weapons and march to war?
Hallelujah, I'm a bum.
And life still goes on, like the rolling of mighty waves into the womb of wet sand.
Back and forth.Back and Forth.
The horizon was beautiful as I held the conch.Distant resonance of the entirety of the universe,I heard.
Like the rolling of mighty waves into the womb of wet sand.
Back and forth.Back and Forth.
I walked the shore line, circle after circle.And somewhere between the end and the begin, I was a bird.
Eating out of the palm of Mother Earth.Flying freely and shooting into cold indigo starlight.Maybe I was a satellite.Who knew, do we ever?
I live by the shadows and swim into its umbra.Because water takes the shape of the vessel.And I sometimes talk about politics and the Nation.
I see floral skirts in summer skies and gusts of wind and some fun.
I saw love and it is,vain.
I saw years and autumn leaves.
I saw young lovebirds and the fall.
The fall of what? You tell.
I see life and I see a mirror.
Telephones ring and I feel like reality.
And I don't like it,really.Because with it come the past and future.
So I go back to hiding in umbrae,swimming in fathomless oceans,diving into perdition and my bed was on fire.
So I dusted the burnt bedsheet, put the ashes out.
Warmed my palms in mittens and forgot about stimuli.
I read the news paper and shed too many tears.
I mocked the government for far too many years.
I washed love off my linen.So what? Do I pick weapons and march to war?
Hallelujah, I'm a bum.
And life still goes on, like the rolling of mighty waves into the womb of wet sand.
Back and forth.Back and Forth.
18.6.10
dark coffee and thundershowers,with a hint of lonely
And the evening bulb had lived its fair due. It flickered. Like a dying butterfly. Faded into the darkness of the room, its tungsten electrified, one last time, before it broke beyond repair. Virginity taken.
As a silhouette stepped out of the darkness into its parasol, it was like waves of rain lashing against the choppy sea rocks. Or maybe it was the darkness’ mind. It does, if you could identify you’d know, it has its own mind. Silhouettes and darkness in shades of their umbrae and penumbrae cascaded against the polished wooden chocolate brown floorboards. In the distance, much closer to the lavishly sized window, one could see golden embroidery on the ivory carpet. I liked carpets in the skies, where they can fly into an Arabian Night.
And as the waves rolled along and the room grew darker to weary eyes. Lightning struck and in it, glimmered the most magnificent skinned woman. What moved in the darkness was the cape of her fine dress. She lay there propped against the bed side.
Beautifuller than moonlit shores and orchids in wild paradise. The giant ruby against her chest, brought her eyes out.
Her eyes, as pale as the distance of the sea, promised eternity. Her tresses worn against her bare shoulders, sliding like a waterfall onto the rest of her bodice.
And if she could sing, you fall in love, my child.
But alas, she is the corpse bride.
As a silhouette stepped out of the darkness into its parasol, it was like waves of rain lashing against the choppy sea rocks. Or maybe it was the darkness’ mind. It does, if you could identify you’d know, it has its own mind. Silhouettes and darkness in shades of their umbrae and penumbrae cascaded against the polished wooden chocolate brown floorboards. In the distance, much closer to the lavishly sized window, one could see golden embroidery on the ivory carpet. I liked carpets in the skies, where they can fly into an Arabian Night.
And as the waves rolled along and the room grew darker to weary eyes. Lightning struck and in it, glimmered the most magnificent skinned woman. What moved in the darkness was the cape of her fine dress. She lay there propped against the bed side.
Beautifuller than moonlit shores and orchids in wild paradise. The giant ruby against her chest, brought her eyes out.
Her eyes, as pale as the distance of the sea, promised eternity. Her tresses worn against her bare shoulders, sliding like a waterfall onto the rest of her bodice.
And if she could sing, you fall in love, my child.
But alas, she is the corpse bride.
shambles.
And as I condemn all men
of this world.
All I think about is your chin,
on the nape of my neck,
never again.
all men of this world.
of this world.
All I think about is your chin,
on the nape of my neck,
never again.
all men of this world.
15.6.10
whirlwinds and there after
Inebriate serpentine rain clouds
that danced beneath your locks,
of waterfalls of curls that cascade.
Such was the warmth of the fireplace
that burned down the wine cellars
and drapes caught flames.
After all waterfalls empty into
churning oceans
mighty waves;
And a drowning sailor
Never sails the south seas again.
The sheets sprawled
like the sunny skies;
Wet rain clouds bereft
the bed left unmade
the shivering thunder unfelt
the words unsaid.
Down one’s own highway
man and maiden, left.
that danced beneath your locks,
of waterfalls of curls that cascade.
Such was the warmth of the fireplace
that burned down the wine cellars
and drapes caught flames.
After all waterfalls empty into
churning oceans
mighty waves;
And a drowning sailor
Never sails the south seas again.
The sheets sprawled
like the sunny skies;
Wet rain clouds bereft
the bed left unmade
the shivering thunder unfelt
the words unsaid.
Down one’s own highway
man and maiden, left.
4.5.10
Because.
like lullabies of children who's old men fought the revolution.
and visits of wallowing pride to graveyards and morgues.
let me design a wreath of honor worn across my forehead as thorns.
and if fullstops were seen by you between my sobs.
you'd know i don't speak like chewing gum.
but for all that was spent and all that is left to say.
i will run.
run through the wind,away.
18.12.09
Goodbye.
See you at Running in Circles blog two.
Except where otherwise noted, Mamta Venkateshprasad Iyer's photos and text are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 3.0 License.
bittersweet
1.
And I romanticized paper planes clipped to clothing lines while you wrote bruised notes of dying carnal lust; and then the clock shrugged midnight.
2.
As I snuck beneath the pale cotton sheet, wrung and hung tied so tight. Like paper neath sun and its light, You shrugged and pulled me in along with the freshly washed rose scented linen sheet that stiffened through day,now night. Cause you knew I’d peel to just your sight.
3.
Teasing wind in the curve of my mouth we tasted the dust of heavens pure plight. Oh the song lasted, all day that quarter of a night.
4.
the print of your finger on the chinaware out from which poured like hot breaths on your elfin ears like drinking earl grey tea in watery milk and sugary lies. Like train journeys in winter which went through winding tunnels; through the damp smell of lavender and moist ancient grime, it chugged past station and tunnel alike. and that's why I'd say I like traveling, you together on this ride. because it has no end, till final destination arrives. - and in your indigo ocean paired eyes, I’d smell the tingle of mud soaked rain and sea salts making quick dreams through a fluff of soft and many cheek pecks and then i remembered to plan breakfast for next time so save the end of the song through tonight. as you always leave stealthily on monday mornings for work ; - And then we kissed under the arch of midnight dreams on lofty pillows and in the warmth of the cleft of your arm. wasted and spent within as we fell apart on the same sheet that once lay on the clothes line. - and i groggily wake up to the rhythmic weekend and your snuggle at sunrise and wrap myself in your side of the bed sheet trying to sniff you out into my button shaped nostrils. - as the sun pierced through my eyes, light and darkness together this time. I had dreamed of bittersweet goodbye.
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