The Sky....

Azure butterflies
flitting about
flakes of sky

HUMAYUNS TOMB, New Delhi India.

The sky is the thinnest of tissues today.

If I could, I would wet it with what tears I have,

and watch it crumple and tear along its creases in my hands.

Nine

The whole nine yards.
Dressed to the nines.
Nine planets in our solar system..
A stitch in time saves nine.
Nine months from conception to birth.
Cats with nine lives.
On Cloud Number Nine...

• Working from Nine to Five
  
  Numerologic the magnified three, ancient sacred humanitarian number connected to inspired change, invention, and growth.
  
  Single numbers multiplied by nine results in digits that add to nine.
  
  2 x 9 = 18
  3 x 9 = 27
  4 x 9 = 36.
  
  The Hebrews referred to nine as the symbol of Immutable Truth.
  

A three-fold cord is not quickly broken.

Nine is the month I was born in.

It is a number which has gained a permanent presence in my life, which I can almost feel at times.

It has a lot of magic about it which fascinates me....

The Dead Head...

He guards his space jealously,
He puts up a wall all around him.
To keep out the wolves, baying at the door
He withdraws into his own coccoon.

To seek peace he takes drugs galore
To numb his feelings
he knocks consciousnesses to the floor.

Slowly he passes out.... {Knocked out Loaded}

Only to be awoken safely
Right on Lucifer’s front door.

Its a living hell, eaten up alive in
the enviorns of his befuddled mind

In an ocean of dreamless sleep.
he looks for sweet release..

Why does he seek this escape?
What demons haunt him?

I wonder whether he himself really knows…

We Hates Them Forever

I have been tagged...yes once again by Illusion, Risha Rao & Mz. D Iyer

I HATE, I DETEST & I LOATHE

A very wise man named Ogden Nash once said:
Any kiddie in school can love like a fool, But Hating, my boy, is an Art.



This is my way of perfecting that art!!.

• I hate it when: I have to be nice to people I don’t like for the sake of others (I hate being a hypocrite.)
• I hate it when: I am in a sea of humanity. I prefer seclusion anyday....
• I hate it when: Someone wakes me up from my precious sleep (I treasure my sleep, the few times I am actually asleep are rare enough, so buzz off and leave me the hell alone, you approach me at your peril)
• I hate it when: just when you think you are dreaming, reality does a check and catches you out. Dammmn...Reality is a heartless Bitch...
• I hate it when: Rain threatens, but never falls. (the ultimate KLPD)
• I hate it when: I have to say goodbye to a near one. (I've never been good at goodbyes)
• I hate it when: life is normal. I need excitement
• I hate it when: I get all sentimental.
• I hate it when: People patronize me. (Sanctimonoius farts)
• I hate it when: I see plastic bags everywhere.
• I hate it when: I am optimistic.
• I hate it when: I am sober
• I hate it when: People say that they like Britney Spears or her look alike brigade...
• I hate it when: Two is a crowd. (believe me it has happened)
• I hate it when: I am asked to dance in public. I can’t dance for nuts
• I hate it when: All I have as a momento of a person are memories of a stranger!!
• I hate it when: I see parents wanting to relive their childhood dreams through their children.
• I hate it when: I see small children wrecking havoc , I really have to restrain myself from giving them one tight slap

Now for some other pet hates...

• I hate it when: I find myself in a roomful of relatives I don’t know from Adam and for that matter have no intention of knowing ever & all they can say to me is...So you've grown sooo big... what else was I supposed to do you clutz... Shrink...

• I hate it when: My mother starts to recount an episode of my doings when I wasn’t old enough to remember or know better, in front of her friends.. I mean come on..stop embarassing your grown up son mom will ya...

• I hate it when: You are asked to say cheese before a person will use his finger to press a button on a camera. (What does it matter if I don’t say cheese, and why cheese for that, wouldn’t butter be good enough)

• I hate it when: People talk about you as they see you approach and when you stare at them, they think they are fooling you by pretending to look up in the sky hoping to catch a glimpse of stars in the daylight. (Come on you wankers. I will fulfil your dreams and make you see not stars but galaxies if you want it so badly.)

• I hate it when: People do silly things when they are drunk. (If you can’t handle it, don’t drink....)

• I hate it when: People ask me for my height and weight, my stock reply is that I am taller, bigger and better then they ever dreamed to be or ever will be.
  
• I hate it when: People born and bought up in India tell me how good life is in America. (The fact that they are not the first citizens there, They live in a police state, are so entangled in mortgages, student loans , & that they crave everything Indian seems to pass them by)
  
  
• I hate it when: I can’t afford to buy the book I wanted to buy and I can’t find it anywhere, while when I didn’t want to buy it, it infested every book - shops window display.
• 
  I hate it when: I see children begging. I usually feed them but it is so sad to see children without the smile every child is born with...
• 
  I hate it when: Girls wearing Micro Mini’s complain about being eve-teased. (first of all baby, you haven’t the legs to carry it off, second if you think you do and flaunt it, expect to be commented upon by roadside Romeos and don't you dare come crying to me..)

• I hate it when: People comment on what particular shot a batsmen should have played on a delivery he missed, (well if you are so gifted why are you sitting here commenting on it when you should be out there, you piece of good for nothing - know- it- all shite)

• I hate it when: People in big cars drive like they were enjoying weekend saunter in the park, if they so liked the bullock cart speed they should have stayed with that instead.

• I hate it when: People speak with an Accent, (did you just get back from dropping your aunt to the airport and picked up an accent on the drive home. You imposter.)

• I hate it when: I see people who wear their Identity Cards or Security cards when they are not in their offices, whats up with that shite. (Fine you work as a drone in some MNC office where they hire you just because they don’t have to pay you as much. It’s nothing to flaunt about out in the open. And no I prefer not to know your name)
• 
  I hate it when: I am broke and have to ask a friend for some money, and they lord it over you. Just you wait, when you come asking me to repay that trifle loan.

• I hate it when: I am asked out for a movie (with my family) and I find out it’s a Bollywood rip off of a Hollywood movie, which has songs which again are rip offs of songs sung in English. I mean where did originality go...back to living in a cave or what... makes me believe that we are descended from apes... Imitating A- holes... and Hey all you Bhapi Lahri & ANu Malik wannabe's find some dirty water and drown yourself in shame..

• I hate it when: I see some jerk with blaring speakers driving slowly around my block, just because I happen to live across the street of a “hottie”. (I will ignore the fact that I too lust for her, but I keep my lust well concealed and in my pants.)

I hate it when: I am on such a rant. So I will end it ... albeit hatefully but end it right here I shall......

I also hate to tag other people but this time I shall indeed tag some...yeah you can hate me for doing this but...

1. Fingers
2. Rijula
3. Shaun
4. Nessa
5. Ms. D Iyer
6. Finch Scout.

Is this Love

I can feel you, I can hear you, I can see and touch and taste you even though you're miles from me right now.

If we are made by the memories we keep then : I am in love with you.... Still

because I can still feel the press of our bodies and the lemon and oleander scent of you with your back to the refigerator, your breath on my cheek and my hands in comfortable places.....

What is this thing?... this comfort,..... this stability and strength, .... this clarity, ..... hope, & desire?

I do not doubt it is that elusive and fragile thing called love.

We have been and gone so many places, changed our shapes and continue to match each other, burn each other, the electricity between us almost visible, a tangible thing.

The water rolls clear and deep, a rushing shush and a subterranean roar, constant and far to travel.

Plum Estate Kamiedo

on this blistery day
all the branches
shiver ceaselessly
and the plum blossoms
they fall .....
they fall .....

glorious Spring

sneaks up on us..

Plum Estate: Kameido
by Hiroshige, 1857;
From "One Hundred Famous Views of Edo";
Woodblock print, 13 1/4 x 8 5/8 in; The Brooklyn Museum.

Detail of Background Plum Tree:

Obtained from WebMuseum:

Hiroshige, Ando.

Like manholes and poison bottles I was made to be self-locking and I could no longer be bothered pretending.

I might have a key ... I stopped trying to be normal and began to enjoy a small, still life that fitted very snugly around nobody but me.........

Pain and depression I found unpleasant companions but you must understand that what made them unendurable was hope.

That tension between my situation and my hopes for the better ... can eventually only do what tension does, it causes splits and tears, a degree of loss. ... And when the hoped-for future finally appears,

I would rather not see what it brings because hope has already robbed it, mortgaged it to the bone. ... for the rest of the time... I develop like a bonsai plant in a time-lapse video…truncated..

My own fate from whom,
I've never hoped for the good

Has with just heavens ruled,

If it's the impossible what I demand,
Its only because for me the possible is banned......

(from Don Quixote by Cervantes)

A Laugh: { The sound of } her fingers in his prespiring hair as he knelt in front of her

Of the buttons slipping out of braided hooks of her long coat.
The rustle of her skirt...... like the leafy edge of summer...... as she drew it up her thighs.

And when his tongue came home to her, from above his dizzied head and shoulders, that laugh again, distant at first, over arching, then closer than his own skin.

The hushed chime of her throaty laugh as he drank of her. The essence of her...

A note which left his soul singing and crazy with peace......

The Kiss....

It had happened some months ago and she had been alone with a drunken him, the wild side showing through like stormy weather.

He had kissed her in the dark water beneath the clear sky, their hair wet and entangled, and she had wanted him for so long it knocked the thoughts from her head and the strength from her body but she found herself pushing him away.

Her heart kicked inside her chest and she was sure he could hear it. She didn't want him like that, she wanted him to be all there and not riding a wave of alcohol induced lust.

That was the last time she had been alone with him in some months...


Later after the winter had come and gone, when the daffodils first nodded their heads in the sunshine, she had called him and went to his apartment.

Her heart beat a furious tattoo in her chest, as she pressed his door bell...

He opened the door and flashed his sly smile and invited her in.

But she could not read his looks and smiles as she once did.

Then he kissed her tenderly on her lips which had parted on their own violition, and this time she didn't push him away......

The screen door groans halfway throuh its swing as I open it, and above my head by the door frame I imagine hearing the ripping sound of spiderweb torn asunder.

Each night is the same; the spider builds in the evening and I rend in the night. Its constant duel of wits developing between the two of us. But I admire the tenacity of my foe.

I have seen the small black body dipping and rising, eight clever spindles twisting and drawing there in the space between the door and the screen, trailing the finest silk painstakingly and with serious intent. The shape of the web is a circular funnel of silver that reflects moonlight but looks dull grey in sunlight. Moths, mosquitoes, and mayflies attracted to the porch light in the evening end up as small grey shrouded husks discarded on the door jamb beyond the thresh-hold.

Something about a spider hidden in the door's corner feels like good luck.

Reminds me of the story of Robert The Bruce who re gained his reslove from looking at a spider re building its web.. but I have no kingdoms to conquer...


I stood on the porch until my bare feet tingled and my flesh felt chilled by the cool night air.
The dogs patrolled the corners of the lawn, noses to the ground and tails flagging high as they trotted. The grass bedewed shone in the light of the moon.

The vastness of the heavens stuns me; the spider web's intricacies intrigue me; the common elements of design despite the size and distance and the space between remains incomprehensibly mysterious.


Einstein said God is subtle. I believe him.