Monday, June 17, 2013

RANDOM 8

Confidence tricks with mirrors.


An illusion deceives
By a leap of faith
Through suspending disbelief
And imbuing the incredible
With the plausibility of actuality.
 
You glance at my silvered depths
To pierce your innermost core
Yet swaddled in layers of deception
Your pellucid introspection is overlaid
With the sulphurous penumbra of myth.
 
I with impassive uninterruption
Indulge your tricks with yourself
And transform your quotidian reflections
Into cornucopic portals of egotism
 
My undisturbed placidity, gravity held immovable
Gives you, of yourself an unsullied view
Yet within the sepia tints of embalmed moments
You ululate disconsolate requiems to a lost ideal.
 
You attribute a telos to yourself
By imbricating into my vitreous limpidity
Transfiguring a burgeoning nascency
Into self contained inviolability
 
In front of my oblong cyclops
You perform your being
And with practise and mimesis
Crystallize an indeterminate self
 
Yet i with imperturability
Look on, bemused and tickled
Wreathing the bits you cordon off
Into congealed ideograms of truth.

THE POTENT DECEPTION


In the architraves of the self
A discordant note insinuated
And made the sanctity of being
A diffuse, attenuated impalpability
 
As the desire to see the sanguine
Became an overwhelming need;
The actuality of veracity
Became a subtle prevarication.
 
Because it needed a rationale
And a basis to affirm; an act
Of transcendence turned in
On itself to become an ambiguity.
 
Yet the recourse to sanctimony
Rendered the falsehoods exigent
So that necessity outweighed fact
To become a crystallized reality
 
Within the intransigent crevices
A sense of hypostasis indwelt
And made of a putative real
The potent deception.

FRIDAY'S QUIP TO CRUSOE


You made a subject out of me
Gave me agency and cognition
Was it to assuage your loneliness
Or impose your episteme?
 
Bristling  grass on the turf
Sprout like tufts of spiky hair
Their deliciously abrasive touch
Resembles my companionship with you.
 
As the waves roll by along the surf
Beckoning of freedom a intimation
I nurse the cutlicued shells by the wayside
Hoping you'd find your release.
 
Though i try to deny its intensity
I desire a corporeal symbiosis
Mortal frame twined, cleaved  inviolable
Bespeaking of,a unison beyond schisms
 
Though a dichotomy divides us
Upheld by your will, my complicity
Still i long for those moments when
The shroud is lifted and truth peeks in
 
We need each other for us to persist
Without the other the self would dissolve
At the dialectics where we converge
Is an unwritten contract of flesh and mind
 
Even though the terms are intractably laid
Still stipples my being ripples of a future
Where this suppurating , languid seascape
Is circumvented by a throbbing terra firma 
 
Meanwhile we persist, coiled in self deception
Hoping that we could transcend our integument
But locked as are, each engirdled by power
All we  can  do is to  stretch  our imaginations.


FREUD REVISITS VIENNA IN 2012


He returned, expecting
A consecration, a peroration,
A embalming in the portals
Of history, of discursive thought.
 
He hoped for a precipitious
Traversing of his labyrinthine thought,
An importunate referentiality that 
Congealed his postulations to truths.
 
He anticipated a proliferative
Unconscious, spilling of unreason
Primeval anteriority in conflict
With paradigmatic sociality.
 
He predicted the portico of the mind
Sluiced down to its runneled funnels
And predicated on structures of reason
The chaos of indeterminate impulses.
 
And he certainly foresaw, like minded men
Taking a scalpel to dissect and probe
Unexplored hinterlands of layers of being
That would concretize aberrations and perversions.
 
Yet strangely, the world seems to have gone on
To have moved on, dislocating his archaisms
And libidinal preconceptions into forms of
Becoming that negate his postulates.
 
He finds a miniaturization, a emasculation
Of the penis he held sacrosanct, restituted
Instead by a nascent clitoris that demythifies
The sacerdotal phallus.
 
Mothers and sons get along fine, girls
Move on to other fulcrums and the
Things he proposed were normal
Are turned on their heads.
 
Even the anomaly is normalized
Medicalized with prophylactics so that
The immitigably nymphomanic psyche
Is a neurochemical manifestation.
 
It is a descecrated consecration
That greets his re emerged self
And he drifts into oblivion grazing
The collective conscious ,only to drift away.

ELDRITCH SONNET


The mendicant proffered grief
As penumbral gloom
His presence was short and brief
As need came to loom.
 
The baroque artist distorted
Endlessly reduplicating to recede
While traversed art's convention contorted
As anomaly had to concede.
 
Contrapuntal ideograms dappled spots
Of discourse with elliptical spaces
While pre existent man made  dots
Revealed all too ideologized faces
 
Striated with ambiguity points of view
Became redundant, far between and few.

CARTOGRAPHIC INCERTITUDE


Amorphous he, temporizes.
To locate a telos wherein
Undissolved grottoes,stippled
Hillsides seamlessly become
Points and dots denoting
A capillary of intersections
That embalm and crystallize
Space as place.
 
He could traverse pinnacles
Studded with turrets,sprinkled
With spires, streaked with hieratic
Gestures of crenellated triumphs.
Yet his circumcription of vastitudes
Into flecks of proliferating veins
Signifies a fixity of thought and
Consistency of intent.
 
He tries to locate temporally
By affixing directions with a 
Compass, points of terra firma
That are points in time, whose
Unobviated histories have been
Unceremoniously erased.
 
Speaking against the grain
The points of containment
Utter, through clogged syllables
A narrative of oppression which,
Gleaned by the interlocutor, 
Diffuses the politics of naming
And transforms it into
A trope of becoming.

MONA LISA GROWS OLD

I , unchanging, unchangeable
Through the attrition of time
Grow gradually into timelessness
As the mildewed fungus on bread
Spreads through, its greenish pores,
percolating and proliferating, so do i,
Acquire a sheen of embalming that
Though frozen in time renders me
Ageless yet old. 
 
And if i could reverse this,
Circumvent the distortions, 
The platitudes, the useless aphorisms
And get back to a state of unsullied grace
I would, traverse temporality and go back
To the age i emanated from.
 
Amidst its heroisms and erudition,
Navigating its deceptions and denials
I get transfixed into an image of mystique
That constitutes my being, enclosed in
An irreversible deluge of perceptions whose
Constituents vary with time but their aura, never.
 
Entrapped behind wood and chiaruscuro
I wither and droop through the psychic
Landscape where my emblematic being is 
Obsolete and archaic. Yet my canonization ensures
My peregrination through endless quadrangles
Of perspectives which recede and unfurl, but always endure.

THE UNDONE MYTH- A VILANELLE


It proved to be its own undoing 
As subsuming under its charred remains
The potency of illusion was lost.
 
Whence it came from is unknown nor
Is its durability figurable yet in its fragility
It proved to be its own undoing.
 
Congealed through anodyne aphorisms it
Became intractable but in the fact of its denaturalization
The potency of illusion was lost.
 
Lauded by multitudes, upheld as sacrosanct
And because of its all too importunate insistence
It proved to be its own undoing.
 
Ephemeral, it lodged within, without ontology 
And through its absence of a telos
The potency of illusion was lost.
 
That it was and will be is a pregiven
With its autogenesis, yet by its constructedness 
It proved to be its own undoing
The potency of illusion was lost.

Accumulated madness of the cartographer


He stood
At the center
Branching off
Into capillaries
Through his focal point;himself.
 
He imposed a telos
By assuming an ontology
Prefiguring retroactively
With the act of naming
 
He insinuated himself
Stippling temporality which
Studded with his narcissism
Streaked with his being
Became an extension.
 
Yet wherever he traversed
He found clogged spaces
Teeming with tenebrous life
Which he obliterated.
 
Within his puny corporeality
He split off by abrogating
Himself from himself and
Thereby denatured his self.
 
The dotted veins bepoke
Not what he intented
But what they contained
Within their interstices
 
Self proclaimed center , he
Coiled back to himself
And ended up where
He had started from.


THE FEMALE MOON


Was this the point in time when
Crescent shaped, you entered
The rind of my flesh and made it
A hagiographic aureole.
 
Or was it at this time that
My essence could unfurl
And what i was during the day
Swaddled in mists of ignorance.
 
I think you correspond to me
The light you reflect clogs me
Irradiates my core, traverses
My flesh and in a furtive fashion
 
Make spaces for rupture;of turning 
Against those who refute my being
By making out of my small treacheries
A cornucopia of subversion.
 
I may be denied a presence
But my absnce proclaims itself
As the insidious whisper which
Enters you when you dream.

A SELF NARRATED DISCOURSE ON THE BODY


My body unfolds and unpeels
Its fleshly integument
The skin retracts, covers over
The pink rimmed aureole of flesh
 
And as i traverse its runnels
As i navigate this spiral
I encounter nooks, crevices
Bespeaking untold mysteries.
 
What i choose to cleave
And percolate to the essence of
Is a physical appendage whose
Soul is my fulcrum.
 
When my points of desire engorge
And reduplicate pleasure, like images
From me unfurls a realm of belonging
Inexpressible, which transcends time.
 
Thus my corporeality is a funnel
From which revelations unravels
In the chaotic tower of babel
I hold steady, like noah's ark.
 
To travel elsewhere is the point
Because of alternating points of being
Wherein i move from one realm to another
And thus becoming what i become.

Discursive Ambiguity


You create a space
For
Dialectics to proceed
And
Through microcircuitry
Return where you began.
 
You may confer patinas
Of 
Candid self disclosure
Yet
Gloaming imbued
Sunder  a pristine form.
 
You can question unceasingly
To
Create convoluted whorls 
By
Transmitting sardonically
The negation of truth.
 
But the truth stated
Through
Random splintered shards
Becomes
Subjective hypotheses
Emanating invariably from you.

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