ANONYMOUS posts again...
good ones this time but nameless,yet again...
WHO R ALL U PEOPLE???


NWYZ,
the last poem was a rather poor but desperate attempt to break open that block in my mind which had prevented me from writing for quite some months now.
i kno that utter exasperation and frantic desperation SHOWED.

VIOLENCE is a medium,a physical,brutal way of expression.
expressions ranging from anger to loathe to hatred to sadness,dejection,ridicule,embarrassment and confusion.
VIOLENCE helps.IT DOES.
VIOLENCE when confronted , when tried to look straight into its fiery eyes ,is SCARY.
i remember having frenzied attacks of fear,fear of pure VIOLENCE.
i remember feeling so violent that for moments i stopped feeling human.
moments that went on for weeks.moments when the only way to save the person i didn't know anymore and the people i knew , was a locked room,an enclosure with shut doors.
YES,it helps.
coz when i come out of that room,n smell the air ,i feel human once again,the fear is reduced and violence replaced [though momentarily] by a flow,a flow of emotions,EMOTIONS which are meant to be felt and not expressed.
n POETRY/ART/VIOLENCE are forms of expression.

YES ,a few years compiled with an embarrassing amount of tears has,but mellowed the beast down...but the fear of it starting to breathe again is overwhelming.

a certain long lost but never forgotten GEM-in-I claims i have achieved the impossible.
i have SOBERED.
n i quote "u have found a way to channelize all that anger into various productive things".
i CANT disagree,NEVER could,NEVER did...
except once and that was IT.
PRODUCTIVE THINGS like what??
i was always a scribbler
few unfortunate but rather important turn of events kept me away from my sketch board.
for years.

i always had a way with words
i did write some amazing work-of-art love letters.

n music...
OSHO urges to play whatever one can to his hearts content without thinking if its utter and unbearable noise to ones neighbors.
NO,my flute isnt that noisy and my otherwise nosy but good natured neighbors
havnt complained n i have faint feeling that they never would.
my music is very amateurish ,i admit but its music none-the-less n its beautiful.

but i guess i accelerated my growth in the past 2-3 years.
i started reading when i was 20.
i started writing when i was 21.
i started drawing again [thanx to ELAAN http://www.elaan.org/ & PONCHI ] when i am 22.
and i havnt started thinking yet.
so the growth isnt complete.
i guess its never complete.
in fact the race,the wait itself is the growth.
n i am GROWING.n WAITING.n RUNNING.

N u can only be with me if u can run as fast.
but i seriously doubt it.

a ballerina who once
danced to the silent tunes
of risqué insanity,
was lost in the
violent chorus
of adament frailty

do u remember her??
that wild hair
those dark eyes
in a desperate fight
to outrun the borders
drawn by the lines of
captivating kohl
fighting against the
ravenous wind tht
threatens to snub
out the last existing
piece of music
the last song
the last play
the last drawn line
the last move
the very last...

do u remember her?
how she used to
jump at the sight
of gypsy women
selling dreams in
crystal balls n tarot cards
how she used
to feel for the
used and abused
urchins who were high
on a life tht never was
how she craved
for the flower
tht never grew
for a bird
tht never flew
for the wind
tht never blew
and for her half
tht ws never you.

there is nothing
to say or do
to bring her back
u say
to bring her back to you
to a world
that was never her
to her half
that was never you...

ANONYMOUS PEEPING TOMS N BOMS

lemme reinstate wht i had mentioned in one of my former posts....
this is MY blog
so the views n reviews are MINE.
they might sound preposterous,malicious and all tht 2 all of u.
but the way i see it,thts YOUR problem
not MINE.

im not here 2 conform to a whole lotta OVERTLY CONSIOUS n OVERTLY DUMB faceless,nameless compulsive bloggers...
ur adamant effort to prove 2 a world tht isnt there how amazingly well read u r ,which in turn should naturally prove how intelligent and talented u wud like evry1 to believe u r, makes me
LAUGH.
So thanx for the humour you all so generously provide.

n next time if u wanna comment try not hittin the ANONYMOUS tab.

www.elaan.org
ELAAN

Thanx PONCHI... u have no idea how much i respect u for this.

n THANX ELAAN.

i would love to quote lines n rhyme sentences

but for today

just for today

i would rather my silence speak

...

THANK YOU for everything.

im surprising myself....and scaring too
im writting too much...all of which is absolutely abstract...
and TOO much is not good.
my lines have stopped rhyming for some months now.i was worried but not anymore.
the fear of being an outcast has fortunately stopped scaring me.
but the crocodiles havnt.neither have those hammerhead and great whites.

i have been sketching a lot too...mostly cathartic...
its new to me coz i have never NEVER used drawing/painting/sketching as my cathartic medium.
i have been drawing lotsa angels - sensuous,voluptous,broken,dejected,rejected,tempting,sad,morose,vindictive,evil,traumatised,LOST.

Wht i would like ....NO....LOVE to do now is boxing or freetsyle running.
but i cant.
but i WILL ...somday.

few days back directed by an impulse at 3oclock in d night i happened to look up [NO ,i didnt see the ceiling fan,i was outside ]
through the leaves of my personal coconut tree [i saw it from the day it was planted] i saw the sky.
DARK,BLUE,LIMITLESS,DEEP,SENSUOUS,TEMPTING,INVITING,SEDUCTIVE
juz like my angels.
and the starz ,like jewels on the crown of a rogue princess destined to be the gypsy queen somday,somtime.
and then it DAWNED on me...i juz cudnt remember the last time i had looked up to see my sky...i forced myself to think ...but hell...i just cdnt remember.
how could i have been so busy ,how could anyone be so busy ???

the sky is beautiful ,u know.
it needs some appreciation...some clean honest attention.
its beautiful.

people are so pretentious...they used 2 amaze,shock me once but now i suppose i hav gotten used 2 d overflowing hypocrisy.
a whole lot of absolutely shameless braindead pseudo articulate intellectuals with ZERO self esteem.
They would go to any extent,say anything and do evry fucking thing to convince you,try and make you trust them.
WHY???
i have no idea.

i just dont understand these people....i just DONT.
its not tht i didnt try,i did...but just not my mug of beer.

a faker with a fancy cam offering help ...
HOW??? i hav no idea.
but wht i kno is tht he needs to save it for himself,would needs gallons of it ... mostly psychiatric in nature.
but thts OK coz he provides tht much-needed humour ...
he gladly becomes the joke...

people feed on attention....it seems as if its more importnt thn food nowadays.
you give them that and all they want is more .... more....MORE & MORE.....

SOCIAL GLUTTONS ....

APPRECIATION is a different story altogether...
i admit i seek it too and with a zeal that would shame the worst of them...but its not wht i wud like to term as FAKE INGENUITY.thts wht every1 is after...i think the driving force is the fear of being an outcast ... not having enof plastic poems to earn you the entry pass to the SOCIETY OF HOMER-humming hum-bees.
whts the incentive???
a few [always FAKE] words of appreciation,may b an invitation to a meaningless recital ceremony,a chance to exchange a "HELLO ,I LOVE YOUR NEW BOOK" with a certain 89 year old writer who specializes in cheap sleaze.
devouring films in a language u dont understand while you can hardly read your OWN language.
arguing with peers over a book tht outweighs its content.
or may be juz the DOG-TAG of being an INTELLECTUAL.
oh how we abuse the word.it was beautiful once,remember??

wht d hell is the incentive???
how can fear be so overwhelming that we are ready to become someone absolutely differnt??

i mean if its there,its THERE,rite??

WRONG.