Wednesday, July 15, 2009

Minnesota Musings

Chelsea Starr

I'd know your thighs
Across seas
And decades from here

Since you wrapped them around me
Peppered me with baby kisses
And the hot heat of summer had its way with us

I know the weight of your feathery limbs
Like my own skin
Loose with years
And freckled with anticipation

So don't worry

Time is like a child
Crying in the corner
Because he didn't get his way

While we make love up against the back door
Our pasts pounding from the other side
Begging to be let in...

Feeling Minnesota:- 

I've never been to Minnesota, yet I feel a connection to this cold state next to the Great Lakes of the Mid-Western region of the United States.

The state has two capitals or are they two capitals? I dunno. They are called Minneapolis and St. Paul. It’s not an isolated delusion. There are places the world over where people have never been yet they feel the call- the call of the native that lives there.

I know a person in Minnesota. She has made Minnesota what Minnesota has become for me: a lovely place besieged by aggravated externals. Sometimes the beauty of a thing is its very anonymous being. You don't know what make-up goes into the creation and existence of that thing but you don't mind. Its beauty captivates you, drives you, inspires you. All you have is a name and an image.

That’s what I have of Minnesota. An image. It lingers and hovers around my space, my subconscious space.

A part of me wants to materialize it. Another wants to keep it the way it is: an unknown entity that speaks, cajoles, confides and embraces me.

A man's wants is endless. His methods for claiming it, ruthless.

Once possessed, the being becomes seedless. 

She knows a place called Bhutan. She knows a place called Bhutan because she knows a person called Bhutanese. The Shangri-La has become a living, breathing person for her. The beautiful thing is that neither has ever set foot on the other. Or known each other eye to eye, face to face, being to being.

That’s how time and space become meaningless.

It tells us explicitly: know the mind and the mind shall set you free. Reality truly is in the head of the beholder!

The Pearl:- 

I can feel you around my neck

The falling snow is a trillion finite shards of insulation glass

Setting in motion natures supreme police state

If I were to run out into the city street, it would only be a moment

Before I was covered in the blood of my own revelations

There are candles on every table

Like fairies bound by spiders threads

Floating in the purgatory of their tiny votive heavens

I want to blow them out of their misery

A man sitting across a universe of candlelight watches my silence

His mother waits for me to respond with perked ears

She’s standing in a room just beyond the pacific, where

My sun is rising and hers is in a deep orange display of evening

I can't hear over the fluttering singe from burning wings

My fingertips are secretly searching for a safe place

Like the celestial home of each other's print

A thin veil of skin separates me from god

One pearl equals my life 

Of all the grains of sand and bits of broken glass

You opened your mouth and let me inside

Where I metamorphosis in the soft, safe flesh of your deep sea arms
I feel an angel’s chorus fill a tiny pond in my throat
And a flood beyond the capacities of the deepest ocean
Tears through the water color images of my deserted history
I would never have even known how to pray for this...

Ps: YourLustForLifeStartsRightNow!

Midday Confusion

My being is this. Legs crossed, back stretched…fingers twitching to write, hearing a dog bark in the distance…it’s Sunday evening…I am with my friend…we don’t know where we will be going next. I don’t ask and he doesn’t tell. I want to write something about this moment…I’m thinking hard…I think I shouldn’t be thinking so hard to write about something that simply is.

So here goes…but here goes what…? That’s supposed to be a question but I can’t find the mark on the keyboards…I am not so used to these gadgets that keep getting updated now and then…the sound of silence and the punching clicks of the keyboards…it’s quite a rhythm…my friend’s keyboard sounds very different from mine…I don’t know what he’s writing..But his keyboard sure seems a bit agitated and rushed than mine. Don’t know what they are talking about...These two key boards…I don’t understand this language…I shouldn’t even be trying to understand it...After’s just two damn keyboards which obviously can’t communicate…oh, hang on…or never mind…

Let’s move away from this subject…what’s on my mind…? I dunno…I am just free falling… flowing……just like the dog’s bark outside …it’s continuously barking for what reasons I don’t know and I don’t care…he could be trying to impress his skills to land a good lay tonight.

Dogs …now they are fearless and expressive when it comes to mating…after all…the doggie never expires...there’s no expiry date…look at me and my crassgross mind…but is it really crass…or gross says who…nobody…then why bother…what’s on my mind is on my mind and I’m the be it and end it... Now that makes things a lot simpler…..what is simpler now…don’t bother.

On to the next sentence…where does it stop now…the bloody dog’s back barking…he’s definitely trying to draw attention…perhaps he’s figured tonight’s the night…well good luck to that. Spring rain …such bitter rain…that was yesterday….Now it’s the Monsoons…Como esta? Sounds nice…never really picked it up after that…..lingos do keep you in limbos. Index finger rubbing the letter ‘D’ on the keyboard…the finger’s anxious to write…bloody nothing comes out of this wearied mind…but if it’s wearied…it should have a lot to say…but the thing is I don’t want to even play with it anymore..It’s playing a lot of games…which I don’t wanna play anymore…categorically...

I’d sooner jump off a cliff than play the crying game…I’m just gonna stop taking the bait and enjoy the flow… more stops here and there…just keep going…even the bus doesn’t stop for long..take a long piss and a good dump and get back on the damn bus and keep going is the message… don’t wanna go back and see the color of your piss or what kind of shit you just left back there in the bush…now where is damn bus going?…it’ll go wherever it has to go as long as there’s a road…the road never ends…it’s all about the ride…

So I don’t know what I’ll see over the bend or over that hill…I’ll see it when I see it…who cares if it’s a rose bush or a thorn fern…for all ye know there may not be a bush at all…so where did that bush come from..And who put the thorns and the roses in there? How come…it’s either pleasant or totally skunk…now who decided on that? Who says roses are nice and thorns are prickly troublesome natural syringes...who made that distinction…why are you being so stupid now…you’re not moving ahead at all…get over it….don’t miss the exasperation of trying to form intelligent expression ..

Sleep’s got me shrouded in some dazy veil...the eyelid curtains fall…Waiting for Godot has never so dull and dreary...very sorry…this is what happens to every Tom, Dick & Harry when they get higher and higher…pushed on by the “Boredom In The Kingdom Syndrome” that infects us all…till the next rant..Adios!

“He was a bum then, he is a bum now”

You’d like to believe there is no lying in him. But he lies even when he tells the truth. Why, just the other day, he said the sole reason he was in the political business was because he cared too much about the common folk. Now that he’s got what he wanted (the license to pillage, approved for by the common folk as he sees it) he’s out there doing what he does best. Mull over issues that concern more of his own egoistic whims rather than the common good he professed and vowed to upkeep. There is certainly no lying in him, when he says that that mission was sanctioned for by the number of votes he had collected. In other words, the people had told him, “Do as you please.”

All you can say is, “he was a bum then, he is a bum now.”

Never underestimate the seemingly honest man’s greed for power. They come in all shapes and sizes; use all kinds of disguises and whatever façade is required for the moment. Seeing the world and everything in it as an opportunity to gain still more cheltrums and ngultrums, our honest man makes weighty pledges and can’t take an honest critique if you ever gave him one. But give him a platform and he’ll sing and dance the national anthem until death do him apart. That’s how dedicated and devoted our honest man in the house is.

All you can say is, “he was a bum then, he is a bum now.”

Don’t get high on your own supply. This is a lesson junkies never learn and nor do alcoholics. The same can be said of our honest man in the house. Believing the house is his sole domain and he is his own master, our man goes about laying house-rules he wants enforced and chucks out the ones he doesn’t like. He forgets who built him the house and thinks he put it all together. Dictatorial and delusional, our man becomes the centre of the universe and wants all the galaxies he can spot.

All you can say is, “he was a bum then, he is a bum now.”

“He speaks from the heart” is another mighty phrase the landlords who love him love to indulge in. I guess there is some camaraderie when you are all landlords. But dear landlords, please don’t put a price on our soul. The tenants that dwell in your compartments are also the very tenants that laid the foundation you think you built. But once a dwelling is complete and shelter can be sought, do you ever find one? No, you don’t and that’s because the landlords start hallucinating that it was their creation all along. You had nothing to do with it. You are but a bloody parasite niggling away at his glory at best and at worst, telling him you have a suggestion. Just pay the rent is his logo.

All you can say is, “he was a bum then, he is a bum now.”

Consolidating and expanding the gardens of their own megalomaniacal designs is what they all do next. Should the nosey media try and get in on the act; lord have mercy on the poor reporters! What in the world is it their business trying to unearth this secret intricate architecture we have in mind is the notion in their locomotion. And should the nosey reporter smell something fishy and go after it hook, line and sinker; lord have mercy on the righteous outburst that’s going to break the dams and flood the air-waves. Billions of blue blistering barnacles! Captain Haddock was wrong and Tony Montana’s mom was right all along!

Like she said to her son, “you were a bum then and you are a bum now!”

There was certainly no lying in her.

Ps: YourLustForLifeStartsRightNow!

The Midnight Swami

I just cannot sit still. I'm feeling the Delta blues and i'm feeling the Himalayan blues. I feel trapped. I feel claustrophobic. The time has come. I'm going insane folks...i'm officially going bonkers! I'd like to blame it on the Sun and the intense heat but fuck! i ain't gonna lie to myself.

This wouldn't be the first time i've gone off the rader, the wagon or the hornet i drive. There is that time once every couple of years, months or weeks where you just go "off."

I'm fucking "off!"

Some of it is frustration with work. I'm a patient chap but this magazine's gotta come through. There're issues upon issues waiting to be written about and it’s not pretty. The "mojo" has gone from me guts. I need it back.

Some of it is to do with the fact that everything we do seem so repetitious and dead. Jesus! The way we go about life to eventually hit the grave's not even funny. But that's life you'd say and you'd be right. "Don't worry it'll pass like everything passes" you'd say and you'd be right.

"Broaden your horizon and look at what you've" would be the sages' advice and they'd be right.

I clasp my hands together and sigh out long and loud. I'm depressed i can't bring my son over for the summer holidays and my head's just numbed. I rack my brains for a solution and there's nothing in sight.

Then i wonder if life's worth all these disappointments we go through. Images of sages i've read and heard about tempt me with their version of life. The choices they'd made seem so fucking simple, naked, logical and true. The more you've the more you've gotta protect and preserve.

Talk about land and real estate acquisitions spill over dinner tables. Why'd you fortify yourself against the inevitable i wonder. Talk of kids acquiring the family jewels seem to make sense to everyone. "At least they'll have enough" i hear.

Enough of what and how much is enough i wonder.

Going to bed last night i flickered the channels on TV out of habit, boredom and just to get that remote-wielding itchiness over. I flick channels and i see aswami. He's giving a dharma talk. Its been awhile since i'd heard dharma talks. I like what i'm hearing. He talks about the "insurance" we all wanna have in our lives. The insurance of marriage, kids, wealth and health. Then he reminds us of the opposite. That it is nothing but "fear" that drives us to adopt these "insurances." The bomb comes later when he asks you, "Where is the guarantee?"

The guarantee that your loneliness will be fulfilled by marrying and having a wife, a companion and a partner. The guarantee that your blood or bone line will continue after you've had kids. The guarantee that you'll have some "satisfaction" when these insurances are contracted out.

"What and where is the guarantee?" he asks out loud to the audience again. He recalls an anecdote about Rabindranth Tagore. He says Tagore didn't feel the poetry of "Geetanjali" until after he'd written it and received the Nobel prize for it. That Tagore had spun the words beautifully but hadn't yet experienced that feeling, emotion, reality et al.

A man drops in on Tagore at his house and asks him point blank, "Have you experienced God?"

Tagore chases the man away. The man leaves Tagore's compound laughing. Tagore cannot sleep the whole night. He's bothered to the bone. The next morning Tagore takes a walk and sees a muddy pool with a bathing buffalo in it. The Sun's rays are reflected by the soiled pond. Tagore recognises the pure sunshine in the dirty swamp and poetry flows out of him, spontaneously.

Somewhere a man is watching the spectacular "Niagara Falls" and dysentery flows out of him, spontaneously, says the swami. There is laughter after the anecdote's doled out. I'm not quite sure i understood everything the swami said. I'm not even sure my recollection's accurate.

But the point was this: Live without fear or favor. Live without assurances and guarantees. Live without doubt or regret. Face your fears; your expectations and disappointments and do it all right now. Not a minute later or a minute sooner but right now.

Our traditional Buddhist skull has this taunting look of knowing-ness in its face: It holds two lotus flowers in its teeth and there's a phrase accompanying it. It reads thus:

To Look into the Face of Death- To Live and Die Without Regrets.

Ps: YourLustForLifeStartsRightNow!