Sunday, April 26, 2009
BOOK EATER
I was eating my Roberto Bolano for breakfast…that guy tasted good…too good…a hot and spicy latino word-blast…2666 soup mixed with CHILE sauce , whetted my alpha-beta-appetite …after swallowing some 50 odd pages, I heard a scream from my wife and a banshee-wail from my kid…oh yeah…too much Bolano for breakfast was showing its savage effects…I was transforming into a green gringo…so I stopped my breakfast after getting a promise from those two that I would be served Umberto Eco for lunch and Murakami for dinner after dark…
Friday, April 24, 2009
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
LADDER OF PROGRESS
the tragedy of the indian left is that it is only just a leftover of the ideal left...or what is left of the leftist movement...the left used to be always right in its political stands...but today...without any such stands, the left is moving towards the right...and...the danger is that...leftists are finding this shift unbearable...and yet...they obey in the name of discipline...
my motto is...DISSENT OR DESCEND
Saturday, April 18, 2009
adam
adam
first bite
on the blood red apple.
indecent exposure
of innocent flesh
in off-white.
then…
the edges turn brown
and sepia tinted sin
seeps in.
me
with a throbbing throat
watches the slimy serpent
slowly sliding out.
she
the apple of my eye
places her blood red lips
on my bulging jugular vein.
i am in heaven # 7
love is… insane
amen.
first bite
on the blood red apple.
indecent exposure
of innocent flesh
in off-white.
then…
the edges turn brown
and sepia tinted sin
seeps in.
me
with a throbbing throat
watches the slimy serpent
slowly sliding out.
she
the apple of my eye
places her blood red lips
on my bulging jugular vein.
i am in heaven # 7
love is… insane
amen.
Monday, April 6, 2009
dawn 2
stilettos of april sun
pierced the palm leaf roof
and sliced the entrails
of my ram shackled hut.
crumbled and cracked
the cow dung smeared floor
disclosed its original hues.
chrome yellow here,
forest green there,
greasy camouflage outfit
of a guerrilla warrior
dawn 1
dawn 1
at forty past five,
day broke.
millions of porcelain pieces
spewed from heaven
crash landed on
the wretched earth.
nebulous clouds like
fetid molten porridge stew
lay splattered across the sky,
offerings for the oracles of mom.
and then…
the crows came.
a cacophony of caw-caw,
waving shreds of black flags
against the breaking dawn.
silhouettes of malice and mayhem
casting chaotic shadows in motion
upon dew-dripping green floor.
at forty past five,
day broke.
millions of porcelain pieces
spewed from heaven
crash landed on
the wretched earth.
nebulous clouds like
fetid molten porridge stew
lay splattered across the sky,
offerings for the oracles of mom.
and then…
the crows came.
a cacophony of caw-caw,
waving shreds of black flags
against the breaking dawn.
silhouettes of malice and mayhem
casting chaotic shadows in motion
upon dew-dripping green floor.
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