Monday, June 17, 2013

random 2

The mythology game

It began with a word
Congealed into an aphorism
Becoming in its exegesis
A formidable prism.
You conceive of me
As an object of your love
You define me, with invectives
Hurled far and above
The prism became a truth
Which became a myth
Intractably lodged
In its own labyrinth
You projected on to me
The idea of what you felt
Was love and thereby
A rough hand dealt
The  labyrinth, by osmosis
Became a natural fact
Expressed at times vociferously
At others, with tact
In constructing me out of ideas
That spawned from your mind
Made of me, like a chinese woman
An emblem with feet bind
The fact was questioned
Its veracity held in doubt
Yet such was its overpowering truth
That no one could it flout
I am constrained by your creations
Your imprisoning me in a structure of power
But as i navigate the hierglyphs of freedom
I will your hold deflower.


In writing thus of my fate
Of anger, proclaimed hate
By inhabiting myself within my skin
I've dispossessed myself amidst the din
Choosing to embrace a form
That deviates from a standard norm
Recalcitrantly holding on to being
Which the indifferent world would not be seeing
Embodying of deviance a trope
Traversing dissents spiral slope
I redefine myself on my own terms
Excising of my crevice, spurious germs
Around me rococo fancies are spun
I ,in my skin, am made to shun
Myself from a sense of who i am
And become, of necessity, a sham
Forced to bid for a safe life
Amidst innumerable kinds of strife
Uprooted  within, to alienate
My disempowement resists to alleviate
If by making a decision to create
By striating contours and delineate
A kind of persona that resists classification
And thereby circumvents gendered ossification.
Intransigent is the will that refuses
And than being congealed, diffuses
Reconstituting itself into spaces primal
Ensures from cruelty its own  survival.

Mona lisa's riposte.

If i could smile
and indicate happiness
Then my lot
Would signify content
If i frowned
My face puckered
My timeless beauty
Would be tainted by mortality
If i could, by some gesture
Denote self containment
Then my face, embalmed
Would affirm life.
If, on the other hand
Time's attrition induced entropy
My impermanent permanence
Would negate death.
But its the impassivity
That gets to the viewer
The idea that, voyeurism
Would ricochet off my implacability
My impermeability, rendered fluid
Would traverse the aegis of perception
However my immutability
Would imply transcending my integument
Sheathed as i am,in garb and spirit
Where desire and its fascimile converge
My continuance, regardless of your gaze
Would suspend desire and prolong art.


If this could  be the moment
Lucent sun meets pearly moon
Out of these conjoined contraries
A moment in time would be embalmed.
If the labyrinth of the past met
 untraversed realm of futurity
That would congeal and crystallize
The unequivocal, singular present.
If in the journey of moving towards
Superfluities flake off their frayed rims
Would dimensions of experience converge
Birthing  a wholesome being.

Astringence-A villanelle.

The tart scallion inflames viscosity
Undulant aubergines strain in furrows
The culvert sluices into nothingness
Sharp,incendiary tongues of flame
Suffuse with flickering wreaths of smoke
The tart scallion inflames viscosity.
Cascading down runnels of spirals
Iridiscent juices flow fast below
The culvert sluices into nothingness
Exfoliated skins melt in heat
As visceral flesh syncopates to arpeggios
The tart scallion inflames viscosity.
Untranslatable unctuous shapes
Unravel through the oesophagus
The culvert sluices into nothingness
The luminous dial of nebulous time
Betokens end of epicurean bacchanalia
The tart scallion inflames viscosity
The culvert sluices into nothingness.


You can either go back in time
To trace a history of being
Or traverse the uncertain future
To compose a syncopation of becoming
You can idealize what goes before
By measuring it against the present
Or you can build a nebulous future
From the parthenogenetic past
But what prevails is the coexistence
Of juxtapositions and simultaneity
Because within the official reality
Are embedded dissentient polyphonies
Therefore to glance from side to side
At things in togethered totality
Would create a way of seeing
That questions and transcends the zeitgeist.


The sun rose majestically. It wasn't an importunate rising but a slow, steady illumination of its own filaments which like a magician, uncovered the magic of the landscape. Flowers were specked with myriad colors, windowpanes received and refracted light and beads of water gleamed oleaginously. All around was a vastitude, a wholeness of being, a bountiful plenitude which affirmed life and negated darkness. It wasn't a negation of obliteration but an imperceptible quivering of quicksilver nature which  in its cyclical manifestations played out its own inexorable, circuitous ratiocination. Waves creeped upwards and sank bank, their crests curling and whirling. The immitigable, implacable reality of the present, of the here and now seared the psyche of man and sparked off a conflagaration from which emanated purpose, resolve and resilience. It was the light of life, it was life's light, it was life.
Smothering, insidiously encroaching stole in the moonlight. So sudden was the transition from dusk to darkness that the elements took in this with slowness, with a tinge of uncertain tremulousness. Contrary to heat, life and purpose, here lay darkness, coolness and somnolence. It was, indeed a distillation and crystallization of all human endeavor, a certitude which affirmed negation, blackness and death. Yet the deceptive, iridescent light inundated one with furtive secrecy, with a cessation of openess and a immersion into hiddeness. Lovers, sundered by daylight conversed indefatigably, murmuring the paraphernalia of love in utmost concealment from prying eyes. The waves wavered moved to and fro, advancing and retreating.All was decked out under a shadowy white light which concealed than revealed. The neon blared, proclaiming its indomitable grasp of nature's caprices. Yet human life, which had gone on for centuries before modern  intrusions unavailingly, unvaryingly , unabated continued.

Nonsense poem which makes sense

Submerged infloroscences radiate
Portentuous effulgencies whilst
Spews from the cadaver, malodorous
Emanations. Inviolate, unreconstructed
Strides the fool, gulping, gawking
Dawdling and drooling. Inadequacy 
Ails the interlocutor who strains
To capture with verisimilitude the
Labyrinth of speech which, quicksilver
Obliterates itself.Then a fissure in the word
Liquescent, crepuscular peeks out of penumbral 
Gloaming. Resplendentlyinundatedincandescently
Aglowiridescently luminousopalescentlyaflame
Words pour onto the page.

Sonnet; to time

Today we navigate the labyrinthine present
And divest the vast receptacle of the past
While surrounds like a halo, the moon crescent
And time slips ephemerally across cosmos vast
Supplanted appurtenances of thought
And feelings indelibly attach.
And self created and self wrought
Panoplies man seeks to detach
All is evanescent, frangible
As future's optimism sidles in
While the dimensions, intangible
Are experienced, amidst quicksilver din
Fluidly moves past, present, future to each
While man seeks to transcendence reach


As both  traverse elliptical loops
A moment of being is held
And transfixed time over them swoops
Navigating the labyrinth of nothingness
They Peregrinate the precipice of nebula
As both traverse elliptical loops.
Each aspect of becoming is held to
Cryptic dissonances become harmonies
And transfixed time over them swoops
The opacity of one assumes pellucidity
In the eyes of the beloved
As both traverse elliptical loops
A requiem is insufficient to contain
A unison that transcends chaos
And transfixed time over them swoops
A cheerful birdsong permeates them
Chasms dissolve, abysses crack apart
As both traverse elliptical loops
And transfixed time over them swoops.


Crespuscular is the dusk
Which portends cold moon
With twilights smells and musk
There emerges darkness soon
Within the penumbra he proceeds
Mallet and target at hand
Step after step succeeds
As his footsteps leave trails of sand
To ravish or ravage
The maiden who enticed
Who made of him a savage
From a fledgling apperenticed
Whether he seeks oblivion or blood
Remains to be seen
At the moments, in of passion a flood
His shadow ponderously leans


Propelled by unconscious forms
Of being you emerge before morn
Guided by your own irrevocable norms
Of fear and terror you are born
Slumbrous disgorging of primeval
Unravelling of layers in the mind
At times dark  like ages medieval
Others like a self enclosed bind
Does it help? That you're a construct
An emanation from our fevered soul
And that your power to destruct
Is something that disbarrs being whole
When you  end  we wake up with a primal scream
And emerge  from the folds of a dream


Kezia, within the cheerless cell
Reposed, slumbering enchained
Against her was sounded a death knell
For with love's burden she was defamed
Two sided rivulets flowed together
Within was a singular, unwavering flame
It wasn't a question of who or whether
She and her were to blame
Metallic clang and sour smell
The reek of masturbation spent
From her depths there came to well
A disgust which couldn't be vent
To affirm had been her crime
However consenting it may have been
Watching her amidst this filth and grime
Her  beloved felt pangs keen
Meanwhile beholden and bound to a law
Which encroached right into her bed
Kezia with unsullied clarity saw
Her lot towards the docks led.

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