Chintan Shelat
What you read is a poem for you, but for me it is a process.
Please criticize every word of it and let me know.
yours truly
:D
Moon is getting red
as if it's being strangled
my legs are proving the struggle
the night belongs to a scream
scream of a sparrow
in a gut deep stab
by some homeless from the country far far away
who stomps his feet every time you ask his name
she was rather painted differently
or interpreted differently
but the melancholy woman
I saw in the street selling goody bags
with a huge smile on her face
as I turn around the block
it was alley of the gunshot
people talk here in gunshot
gunshot carols
gunshot lullabies
gunshot romance
gunshot cry
gunshot memories
the subtle is the step you take
the subtle is every trigger you pull
bite you lips and
you are accused of being a communist
sad howl wakes up the city
the feeling of being mugged is haunting every lamp
every star
every eye
everything that glows
and
in a quiet distant direction
voyage continues
on a day
slipping into a moonless night
it is so clear
clear as eyes of a child
the murmur
splutter
utter
hum
all about how windy was the night
well night has to be windy
moon has to be forgotten
to conceive
agony of watching stars' drama
live through the eternal crack
she crushed and smelled daffodils
all who saw that were stupefied
time was liquefied
it was drinking game
gods were playing
wipe out the ends
and suck it up
let it flow in the main line
let it hang upside down
a clear uncertainty
I just want to speak
speak where someone
at least a stray dog can listen
better, understand
It was so unfruitful that I kept writing
the essence of writing is suffering
suffering is like star
star is like your friend
friend who never loved you back
love is pathetic
passion is died
dead is god
god is a myth
myth is a new logic
logic is intellectuality
there is so little difference
I have to die to draw his attention
he's busy carving melons for Halloween
It is ghostly wandering
ghosts are too many
many things have to be transparent
I expected his eyes to be
never saw them
never realized he was not into them
though he owned them
and thus I reincarnate
it was the nightingale
in the timid silence
spoke to me as my friend
a friend, from infinity to infinity
from before the birth of god
until after the death of time
it was a curse of a hovering falcon
to swerve
to fall asleep
if was a voice that kissed
like chant it ran through
oh friend! speak, speak of love
to embrace the life
here I come
here, o friend, you reincarnate me.
"Did you hear that?"
"Sssshhhhh......"
"hear"
'It is nightingale'
'No, no it is lark'
'oh you are such a catastrophic'
'it has to be lark,'
'love is Shakespearean'
'life is denial'
'it's time....'
'yes, it's time, it's time to write death poem'
(the other person stares)
"to what I owe this breath bloody,
to what I know this death moody,
lingered upon your wish to die,
to die is intellectual lie
into the circle out in snow,
thus I entered thus I just go"
(Beloved reader, by the way, that was nightingale, imitating lark,
lark was never a bird, it had always been our conviction.)
Here I enter
enter to take the knife from your hand
I cut my throat everyday
Catastrophe is an existence
my friend is a traitor
he did not held my head in lap
one last time
reincarnation is suffering
agony is overrated
overrating is an agony
thus I must not live
thus I must not live
thus I must not live
very profound need of writing
prevent the act of intelligence
yes
copy paste
copy paste
copy
paste
From all around
They come crawling like crease on the bed sheet
Deeply plunged in me, I
Have held a corner a bit higher with my teeth
I should lift my self too
But my abdomen is heavy
And navel is tied
---
After shower
It is ecstatic to burst into flames
Long hairs falling on the ear
Feels like roots in the head
You can fall out if you shake it off
You are constantly transforming
Weed, rug, beats etc. etc.
---
Now you are expert
In how to walk on water with your nose closed
It is dangerous to keep your foot in the ring
Hoping for walls made out of flammable dust
There is spark in the snap of fingers
Dark cold in the chest
Speed is like snail
Slowly slowly
Ejaculation is natural
---
After the morning yawn
Everywhere falls very delicate leaves
I want to treasure them
I'll put them under my pillow
Tiring courting of night is sitting beside
At the end i counted total spinal vertebra,
Total was 22
Still i needed help to wrap my leg around
'Limitless' saying waves you up on high oscillation
Loneliness is blissful
Silence is for you to fill
You are allowed to catch your breath if you can
---
You have to loose width of your chest
In attempts to be singular
There is ally full of black color
Red at twilight
Glowing silver at midnight
They come to see, from far countries
And some princess dips her legs in
You start dripping from her heel
Just like a sweat
You have to leave your blackness on her body
Cause only white sweat is allowed here
She gives you a mesmerizing kiss
You keep unfolding it
With both your hands between legs
Both legs are in north and south
And navel
Navel is already tied.
That ascetic is stalking me
From dream to reality
From reality to dream
To run is an explosive event
Still you can control it, if you stand still
But
All the watchmen are sleeping
The temple has an infinite space
The moment was weak
And god is dead
If you stand he will snatch all your hairs out
And you start falling in abyss
Just an hour before annihilation
You'll stop
That ascetic will love you as a friend now
But he is a spectator only
(you can call him an emperor of a surreal, by the way)
You can peek into continuity if you stand on his shoulders
There is no turning back
Fetus can not be dissolved in the uterus like that
Birth is an explosive event indeed
You come out with a heinous sound
It is annihilation, god must come back to life
That's what is in the book
Infinite space is spread around
Time is sleeping
And here is me
Just now conceived.
Now anytime, Time will arrive
With its rusty chains
It will be impossible to enlarge these circles
---
All those intellectual thoughts will be abandoned
No trees nearby
Or I would have picked and reattached all the leaves,
Just to utilize those thoughts
---
It works in a cycle
In every forth time age
I be as I
In every forth time age, time arrives
This time, I'll run away for sure
---
Some are without name
Some are like fragrance
Some are like dew drops
Some are just there
They all have tongue
But no one's speaking
They're just licking wall
---
सह वीर्यं करवावहे(Saha Viryam Karava vahe)
These chants are taught wrong
Scenes are snatched away
After giving eyes
That's why can't find'em
Whoever is there, is deaf
---
It will leak blood
From eyes
From nose
From ears
From tongue
Circle can not be enlarged
All are deaf
I must run away.
Is part of a Sanskrit chant, roughly translates to
""Together, May we gain energy to know the truth
May our intellects grow clear and bright""
'To me'
'To me'
'To me'
'To me'
"Silence", said Dr. Faustus
They want to hold the light bulb in their hand
One is a pet dog, one is a boy
I mean, who asks for such thing?
Lamp, just throws away the light
My neighbor Mary, keeps asking the meaning of wiper snake,
Woods is spread all over, but suddenly ends at my feet,
Though I have two rib cages, one is obviously to take out,
You can hang the lamp in there,
You can reach to the switch if you stretch your hand,
Right after the ledge, there is an abyss,
You can see it under the light,
The window sill suddenly glows, caught it,
Now, to stand, to speak, to walk, to write, you have to light the light,
you can catch it,
If you ask,
That pet dog might be the boy,
That boy might be the pet dog,
As a matter of fact,
Can be,
Dr. Faustus, a lamp post.
He flew over bridge
And the river was flooding
He tried not to pee
You must have skill of rope walker in order to walk on the periphery of the circle,
It's been years, you are stuck in the Zero,
Constantly revolving around,
From the window far far away, blinds are watching,
Blindness is not useful then,
Smokes are stretched between with heinous sounds,
you can project an arrow in the direction of the sound,
but it is noise every where,
Sound is not pure, like music
neighing can corrupt your ears,
fighting can corrupt your hands,
you have tied some gospels on your fingers,
it gives warmth in utter cold
in the mud pool of light besides,
you are dipping your arrow tip and aiming,
your hands are in mood of becoming a bowstring,
your speed must be hasty
and weight less than a thin air
then only you can penetrate those noises,
as soon as you enter in the dark matter,
slowly you fall into contrivance,
your delivery path is glowing like a glow warm,
at first you have to get nude, in the end you can cover again,
hands, legs are constantly struggling,
No shields, Not even swords,
you are still involved in
Tumultuous war.
"The Nymphs are departed"
says Elliot,
the nymphs are departed,
so, all the barbers dumped their tools into the lake out of the village,
because all men will grow beard,
the homosexuality of the high ends of the streets,
is stuck to the heel of that transgender like a dust,
you can not shake your head if you have combed your hair neatly,
and your impotency is revealed,
you reach to the tree running, and fall like a chestnut,
your hands are still blue from the act of last night,
there is no question that you will be accused,
for the name sake there are some shovering forests,
at the every rough turn of the streets,
you can only enter with your grown beard,
there is only one riddle to solve,
"why did the nymphs depart?"
Those tar colored slimy talks are dripping from your mouth,
She is coming after you on these marks,
She is still the same,
but time is not,
Your aghast wandering is not the same,
the dead body on your shoulders is not the same,
there is no end of this,
and she is still following you,
oh, you can't take this,
it's burning you,
you loose your temperament,
turn around and speak the words I put in your mouth,
"For God's sake Eurydice,
Stop Following me."
then, there is she, there is you,
and there is me on your shoulders.
I know what I am supposed to write,
These gods are signaling me,
I can not understand,
If I write what I see,
I will be accused of being traitor,
I don't to how to make bomb,
I don't to how to do ambroidery,
I can only spread bloody blackness around,
But my hands are too short,
Can not reach to the eyes above the cheeks,
Now I can understand the game of those divinities,
And I still can not understand their signals,
But I know, what I am supposed to write.
I am bored,
*
All that passed,
Did not leave even a scratch,
I was sure it will fade away, the illusion i was watching.
*
It was fruitfull that I kept swinging my hands in air,
I finally could stretch them through the mirror,
and there I grabbed the neck of reflection,
It died instantly.
*
Lust that was all apple-ish, levitated me,
I could catch all the speedy breaths,
Night was near to dawn,
and dawn was apple-ish,
and apple-ish was the lust, which levitated me.
*
That bloody craw made me mad,
I threw everything at it,
fucker, slipped away.
*
I am good at counting,
stars are falling one by one,
I will soon reach to 22.
*
And yes I am bored.
You are continuous,
there is no chaos
Suddenly you swerve, without a reason,
visible enough to piss off the dead guy,
and you start falling,
the more you shrink, the harder you get,
you can hear the crawling creatures all the way to the 10th floor,
they climb up under your bed,
the realization makes you subtle,
you are stopped.
It's dawn now,
you are still flooded with creep,
How beneficial is to redeem your astral influence here?
Whose blessings are making you immortal?
whose paradise is lost?
Can not ask,
because you are phenomenologist,
He has done great job in covering,
you can uncover it,
but can not have it
On your way back you can find some nymphs,
still you are not in heaven,
there is still some crawling under your bed,
and its creeping you out.
His eyes were clearly peeling the dead skin off of the every tree passing by,
all the greenness of the grass was falling off to keep him back,
he was clinging on his jacket as if he was to fall,
he should have leaned on his shoulders hollowed by the ghosts,
the aghast wandering was eating him from the inside,
he must have smoked it off like a man,
he must have jerked it off like a high school boy,
that jacket was getting more red,
he was hiding the blackness of the palm into his fist,
he wasn't mature enough to slap the white guy passed by,
the jacket was only his true possession,
yet his chest is no more a secret.
at night he replaces his jacket by the brown blanket just to be restless in the sleep,
the addiction is at height,
cold is still cold,
warm is still warm,
his skin is becoming red,
the jacket, blanket, all are shrinking to disappear,
making a space to be filled by......
