Monday, November 4, 2013

Cracking Up on Diwally

(Tonight is Diwali, the festival of lights.)
Crack Up:

Restive notes
Daily doldrums
And reflective scraps cling onto tattered pages
And attached hearts
Humming ‘I want to break free’
Or some Bohemian Rhapsody
Comfortably ensconced in pens, coops and stables
And back to restless notations


(I spend a time talking with a bouthanian writer, looking at the chaos of the fireworks and bangers, which explose on every sens in the middle of the rickshaws, the people and the cows)
To Prey:

In the hunt for happiness
Pursuit of meaning
And other wholesome experiences of stamped approvals
What does not work must be vital
Amply aided by misery
Bad luck
Discontent
Tragedy
Superstition
Tears
And the jinx
Following the scented trails of suffering
Keeping company with misfortune
And making acquaintance with loss
Learning to shake hands with sleight of hand and twist of fate
In resignation
If not in earnest
As one hops in on the first bus of acceptance
Takes a seat to peer through the window
Watching coming attractions
And passing distractions


Exit Next Stop:

Constantly tripping over blind faith
He became a clumsy chap
An accidental clown with an acquired frown
So he reasoned
And parted ways with his blinkers
Now he is learning to walk right
Skipping over man-made potholes
And natural trolls
Enjoying occasional bumps
On ad hoc rides


(I try to get out but I receive a piece of banger in the middle of the forehead, and I decide to get back. At the hotel it is the panic because the building just next to us as taken fire. HAHAHA Happy Diwali !!!!)

On The Bank Side:


Sleeping in river beds  
Drawing lines in the deserted sand
Circling full moons
Fishing stars
Capturing celestial lights in framed fingers
He was beginning to become a light-journeyman
And a heavy wanderer
A fish out of water knowing he’ll die of thirst
Drown upon the land
The irony was fatal
He choked on his laughter and died
His face was a benign grimace
A hint of a faint smile played on his lips
Like a playful taunt
The eyes were bemused
It must have been absurd theatrics
Bizarre paradoxes
And strange recollections
We can only blur about



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