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Thursday, July 7, 2011

For the sake of records,

For the sake of records,
I'm silent because, language speaks against me.

It seems the value has been reduced,
Of words and their status,
Also the assumptions are clear,
Involvement is the proof of guilt.
I'm destined to be a predicate,
No complaints the dice has been cast.

Memories were always a problem, particularly now,
Ethics seem to be its new crush.
Brutal have been my dreams,
Outraged, I am. Confused,
If they are ethical or personal.
My dreams i mean.

Muted my protest sounds effeminate and,
I'm tired to lend strength of voice.
My conscience in perpetual friction calls me "The Other"
I am not stingy.
I return the compliment, a retort laced with a smile,
'So are you'
The unsaid words are left to the silence.
Wishing the void never discovers the entry.
And then, Silence springs a surprise,
Voices the word 'Coward.'
Both of us believe its for "the other".

The attempts to mask have never been typical,
Outcome however is typified.
Encroaching space, I laminate my Ego.
Failing to notice, the bruise.
Already suffered.
My ego now shall hold a proof,
For time, for people and spectators.
As always laughter pervades, I'm choked.
I laugh and thus I escape.
Bartering my soul again for freedom, momentary.
The laminated bruise smiles, holding testimony.

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

Supta mattu Prajnya



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.


Claims are here again.
Why are they here, I am unaware.
'No you know, this is your history'
Who speaks now?

Confusion, Calamity and Catastrophe
All words begin with C.
I smile at my logic, smile grows to a grin.
'Grim and Grin are separated by one alphabet'
Who spoke now? Why am I grim?

I am reading theory, I understand theory.
What confuses me? This Voice.
'Which voice the voice that speaks or the one that haunts?'

Why does it haunt me?
I'm an atheist. I am an existentialist.
I'm here and I live here. Not bound anywhere, not going anywhere.
Good Bad Ugly these bring to my memory Sergio Leone.

By not believing in Good, I disqualify Bad to impose its faith.
Yet the voice haunts me.

I am studying Etymology and Genealogy.
The voice grows stronger,
I begin to fail my dreams.
Being scared seems to me a luxury.
The voice now reveals itself.
I am in love with my ignorance, the pain continues.

I seek guidance, I am sheltered.
Now is the moment to be afraid,
Truth is offered on a platter.
I'm not hungry, I am sick, I wish to retch.

The voice takes a pity, decides to leave.
My conscience is going along.
Oh, they left. I'm in a vacuum, I'm told,
Eyes closed, I see a note.

Carefully placed, beautifully written,
One line there is, waiting for me.
'I am The Subaltern, trying to speak through cracks of your soul.
For long I waited to be heard,
When you wouldn't,
I spoke and you were haunted.'