If I hadn’t actually turned half a circle back,
Done that thing with my eyes that made
Detection compulsory, he wouldn’t have noticed me
And, by his side all a stalk, she could have walked on
Unseeing me, in evasive talk.
“Oh, hellooooooo” (damn your timing), and the
Strain lines, twitching under the face cream;
Now that I caught your attention, we — like two
Trawlers that had alien met mid stream — let the
Hurrying feet meet and pass our detention.
He stares through the shop glass at the
Varieties of Seiko; and our unimpressive
Preambles serve neither politeness nor time.
Well, hardly politeness — your eyes: half exhausted.
And I promise myself to hush in me this crime.
And today, Monday, we meet — today, you talk to me
Unknowing where I had met; not knowing
My torrents of maternal knowledge. Relaxed,you
Offer me another round of tea
And bid me to kindle in you soft memories of college.
Flirtatious no more, man
Close to never-returning Buddhahood,
In that last ten second moment before bidding good
Bye to a life, hereupto, lived in a tenacious pain
To caress the edges of illusive pleasure
Sees you, naked, in the fading light as you glisten
In a surreal moment — 20 yards away —
Calling out in whisper, letting the soft-lifting blow
Soft lift soft liftable tinted hair, soft lay, go where it go.
Sees you, as you bend to pick up an unseeable ant.
Now, that last ten second moment is dying,
The Referral System allows not time no more.
Tonguish, soft clavicle, warm realities you’ve willed to shed,
To make the forgotten bark of a
Sombre-looking tree your bed.
That last ten second moment, once passed and done,
In enlightened vision to the world you will say:
“The desire to desire desire to slay”.
You, the humiliated by passion for your lack of want.
Your blind spirit in the cowardly breed fears to haunt.
The aged, the convict and taster of things,
Looks not down the wine,
Complain of its Year; entertains no
Fear of spitting back into the glass;
Or let out through the arse muttering of class.
I present myself
As a tree of poetry
That, at uneven hours, in between lovers,
Flowers: it devours,
When paradigms shift when you sail
Like off the bat of Gayle, to me.
Life’s fond, long and
Enchanted fallacy where
A detached line. Lest you whisper in an ear and claim this is you.
Since you can never most ever
Endeavour to be entirely
Yours or mine…
I live the moments of your flirt
By Pur, symbol, by sign by sign.
Practice those charms
And pretend that in youth
The world will grant us all that we
Sideline as truth. Tomorrow’s shadow
Lingers my haze. Caught with your tail composed
Out of place.
BUSTED INTELLECTUAL is now layed out, printed and OUT.
This will be available in selected bookstores after its official release on the 3rd week of November. However, copies are available from now itself on.
BUSTED INTELLECTUAL follows up my experimental PESTICIDES (2009). I feel BUSTED has a better balance between / of the “personal” and the “outer political”; whereas, PESTICIDES was a radical introversion. Some pieces, however, brush against the unsettling political developments that marked the year 2010; and are intrigued by the longer-term implications of the same. To be frank, much are happening that makes me feel loose and insecure, as a person. BUSTED partially becomes an avenue where these anxieties are given a squeak.
Contact me through e.mail, phone, or FB to get copies. Home delivery undertaken.
BUSTED INTELLECTUAL is locally Rs. 200 (This might be more when sold in retail).