Open again.
the city:
my process:
a city of forms. creation swamps. chew down, do not breathe.. register, do not create. see, do not believe. review, do not become. pause, do not add. forget, do not name. wonder, do not understand. re-form, don't form.  feel its weight, don't distinguish.
be swamped, don't grasp. become lost, do not know. and then if you must, then, know all over again; and forget all over again.
Be helpless, suspend.
open all that's closed; let it float, absurd, and excessive.
and then please let me know: what next? can you go back?
yes, i must create to talk about dissolution. that is the flaw you ignore.



(change form rather than inhaling it for what it is)



you're helpless, in a vast sea: suspend the anchors.


volume, not meaning.

Local Gods

Then there are gods.
The chosen few.
They are experienced, more outdated than old, but old nevertheless.
They know everything. They have sized everything, been there, done that, they are the tripper voluptuaries and the objectifyers with a cause. They have their empires strong. And with it, they are the undisputed supreme epitome of manhood if only in a little place called home to them. They assume the position of all-knowing misogyny with a greatness they command. They revere with boyish reticence another self proclaimed local god(dess) of equal talent, and use the words 'bitch' and 'whore' for every other being of the opposite sex, for they are the higher of beings, men of few words and large history, the desired, the all-knowing. Their humor is unconventional and they are too supreme to talk straight or often, to speak at all.
They hang in bunny outfits.
Worship those who ask for worship. But before that, identify your gods.
Yes, They are god's gift to womankind, some, god themselves.
It's hard not to be charmed by their delusions of supremacy - their worlds are small, usually.
Sometimes they let you know.
They are the men whose ugly semen is vastly public (greatness calls for service) - and the sacred one too private to venture into (such is their greatness).
They are born to breed many : They are the men who 'love women too much'.
Men of few words and many memories and masculine as it gets.
They are our local gods - And they are only too welcome in our scheme of things.

If only modesty was a virtue that came with power and talent.

                                                             First swim this season

Comic Strip 01

spotting sparrows : comic strip for an online magazine

What he said to her

I could write a poem for you
and make you sorry now in all your glitter, for you shine,

but i'm the special critic.

10.02.13 Amidst

And now?
I see no beauty in me
but that of everyone-
a form full of secrets;
now i am one amidst beauty -
beauty - escalating by chance or boundless from the start, a mere fluke a gorgeous deciet,
of the face alone or dress or just words.
Of the composure, the expression
the work, the smile, the freedom.
The control, the sensuality.
Of the effortless and the acquired.
The colour, the discipline, the taste, the motion, the places, the moans,
the bare chest, the full breast.

7.02.13

Shed a tear i won't,
My reticence to be who I am
is my fear of lies
which lies not in my clothes
nor my love for life,
but my fear of being one with
your lies.

Update

Dinner to Rosang, our much awaited naga meal.

Beauty

Beauty is stillness of a motion,

a weave,
a method -
is the seduction.

Wonder

Are love-words guilt for what is filthy,
or yet another pretense
of our dainty purity?
uUnder a new light they will change too,
light needs no cover of words,
money will do,
to buy friends not kept and moments not lived,
and now to buy
the innocence of doubt, idealism of love, a first touch,
a face lost, the innocence of not knowing me,
loose shirts and pony tails
and hanging jewels,
not breasts nor butt.
No form, but
wonder, pride,
wait and
the grandness of me,
close, if ever,
to you,
back

chennai, bangalore, pondicherry

               a cigarette with R

                                                                             lovely painful heidi

Strength

Tum ho toh accha hai,
tum na ho, toh bhi accha hai.

'Make a good book, not a great one.'

Past

Forerunners get lost (as
other's find),
in old
stones, smiles and frills,
mine more than these lines -
is the beauty of innocent
starts.

Method

From
maximum mess,
you brew
magic.

Dirty

Fear clean,

hide the sensual,

subvert the pure, bury sense -

for some, be true, not honest.

Music

I orchestrate moves
and everything you are,
yet
i'm lost in the filth
I am, when you move.

Being a girl

When you are innocent,
they are stronger.
Once aware,

you are not naive.

The more your know,
the further you deviate,
but to not see is to not learn.
When lost in your own,

you cannot be heard,

when you say it as it is,
you are an open book.
When you are colorful,
you are not sharp,
and colourless
is immature.
When you achieve,
you are week within,
When larger than life,
you are not simple,
and when you strip yourself of all
you are less attractive.

I am insatiable.
I have been all I wanted,
and nothing remains.
I am more than that in my ordinariness,
and I fear
what a moment lacks,
more than what it holds.

Cliche

Everyone's beautiful,
everyone's got a story,
everyone's a judge.
If only i could collect myself again,
gather my dues,
fulfill the selfish desires of this heart,
be stable
and loved,
could I devote myself to the wounds
and joys of their heart.

Both

Stoop low,
High as you are,
Vivid as is life.

evenings

Centre

What it takes to be good to the wrong
is kindness (not indifference),
and the best of them will
only feel more victorious,
the question is whether
to hold your ground or walk on their's
to prove a point.
I'll prove it (again), if
to care is to not fall, and now I will be true to my style.

Pretending

To pose your heart as you pretend

to be if only a belief

is true but

he who won't wear 

his heart on his sleeve

he who conceals what he could be

is untrue it seems

so then what matters is not who is pretending

but who reveals and who doesn't.

 story by Franz Kafka

finally- the book mark

silence

spell it out
they'll never know
for
they are always
lesser
or more than you.

Like a child,
we
judged nothing,
followed no rules,
of right or wrong,
of going where we should,
we wore faces but rid them too,
why then,
must we necessarily be
simple, too?

Colonisation

These dogs starved for love
under metal pipes
and beaten plates curl
when the tire moves
there is always the nearest cave to hide from emperor
for being born less couth.

jackals and arabs

vengeful lambs condemn birds of prey as evil; the birds of prey, rather than reciprocating this hatred, suggest that they love the lambs— because "there is nothing tastier".

reference:On the Genealogy of Morality