"digitalised" poems
it almost feels like the literary critique
establishment never heard
of the digitalised version of literary
print... a bit like the dynamic
of ***********
they read **** on toilet paper
and never the small print.. no metaphor,
no pun, poet is dead with god,
you remember, let's keep it like it's 1977
with punk angst, o.k.?
well 1 1 1 of the fingers on toilet paper...
**** smear....
eager music critics, but hardly any
pornographic critics, make a living they say...
cheap pop! ah, cheap pop! chop chop!
butchers' eyes first, priests' last -
liver bitter a minded care for it
as if minding a child! curse the minding!
curse the liver! a swarm of egos,
selfish likened to a marketplace
selfless likened to a monastery -
there the likening to clarify staring into a mirror;
there where we ate everything, including thought,
the materialisation of its immaterial twin: soul;
we too ate with the lineage concerned
via the Eucharist.
Apr 10, 2016
Apr 10, 2016 at 9:41 PM UTC
The name of it left buzzing malls empty,
sanitizers out of stock,
masks and hygiene products booming.
It revolutionized responses to sneezes
from bless you to get away from me.
It shut down schools and flights
bringing governments to its knees.
It snatched sleep from health workers,
that now risk their lives every day to be
the hustle towards the cure of it.
It declined stock markets,
dissipated jobs like
they were a mere nothing.
It ticked off the many goals of our buckets list
by travelling across the world,
and leaving the world impacted.
It disconnected touch,
grafted face masks onto people.
But wait, France is this a veil you’ll ban as well?
It revolutionized greetings,
made many of us home bounded –
is this the final push to making every inch of our lives digitalised?
As for the kids,
the final teachings of their doctors,
teachers and parents is put to work;
they’re finally washing their hands.
Mar 20, 2020
Mar 20, 2020 at 4:01 PM UTC
i wouldn't complain
had i been given
satisfying
engagement -
but indeed, we're all bound
to the entitlement of serfdom
these days;
oh curl the toes and fingers
while i'll see your children
plough the fields of wheat digitalised!
i have no ancestry, no concern,
no bloodline.
Mar 21, 2016
Mar 21, 2016 at 12:38 AM UTC
*i shouldn't equate so much feeling for a ********** but you'll soon be equated as one, even though you quenched the ore thirst, and yet turned to alloy of such thirst that could not be quenched, i.e. a ********** that turned into a digitalised bedroom fancy, a whore-of-no-touch... what the **** is that for? a ******* joystick? me pay for a **** that's what you became dear friend, a would be murderer where the victim attached your ******** to himself and you were left in a prison without confessions or restrictions, with your mother's appealing face lied into.*
i came here for the beauty,
i didn't come here for the everyday;
tragedy that i've seen enough beauty
that it became everyday,
tragedy that i could't make the everyday
a beatified bounty, thus easily
accounted for in mirage of question, thought, answer
and not the custom of men
that might be a worthwhile pairing,
a known marriage, an unknown art;
( tears )
all my love i will to cannibalise you;
eerie i may be, but you practice law,
a doubled lie, and you earn your worth by
those who never cared to moralise from genesis
but from exodus.
Feb 28, 2016
Feb 28, 2016 at 7:45 PM UTC
*yes, i understand the politics, or so i thought,
that biology will never spawn a humanism,
that darwinism will only spawn generic attempts
via disregarding existentialism sweats.*
when was the thought ever conceived,
that dialectics needed a mediator?
why would a mediator be needed
when the only mediator
is a park bench in athens, and two people
speaking?
i get the foul animals' existence, i get the whole
wild heart, and shrinking eyesight,
i get that animals are given pristine materialism,
being incubated by overt-sensual impregnation,
i get that they're impregnated by pure sensuality
(over-use of adjectives is like quantifying things,
as many qualities to the legions of ants
as attributes of the sun, ending with deity
and beginning with geometry),
animals are plagued by sensuality,
they are overly given the pentagon,
while man is given the hexagon / star of david,
animals are overly sensing, man is overly thinking,
when the only phobia of wilderness animal
is huger... man's is spider, enclosure, open-spaces...
animal is pulverised by the senses and things
it roams among... man is pulverised by thought
and nothing, roaming ingenuity by the Libra
dimming sight with hearing for classical composition,
dimming hearing with sight for pablo picassos..
the wild animal in fright of hunger...
and man abounding in it to reflect clocked
chicken press of the laid eggs clucks a sudden diversion
rather than adding to a diversity...
change the poetic gimmick of rhyme...
don't end with synonymous spelling,
intertwine rhyming elsewhere, lie:
'a sudden diversion' and 'adding to diversity'
as engaging to lines without an a# a# end of both
to reveal a missing echo, after all echoing is like rhyming,
but pitiful rhyming, because it's written down
and never plotted to decipher plato's shadows
and candle in the cave entered... defeated first-step
defeated to claim the colour of defeat, the page
that dangled in the odds of waving like a signature
digitalised... all in all... animals are overly sensual,
and man is overly abstract... hence man
mediates symbols and thinking... while
animals mediate onomatopoeias sounding a bit
like touch on wood, and the parameters of allowed
petting:
we blink thrice and think we spotted
a thing only once, when in fact thrice.
Feb 20, 2016
Feb 20, 2016 at 7:31 PM UTC
Industrialised glam, digitalised intimacy
Rich aroma, dancing lights;
implicit wonders are unexplored
as they hide beneath the headstock
obeying society's stream of thought.
Rigour movements, sundried streets
hustling and bustling with only time to beat;
withering moments drape the paved sidewalk
just like the bland orange tainted tree in
your grave backyard (which many have described to be hollow and large)
Lingering spirits have strewn themselves over your covered sheets,
cementing their curtains as the bright white light
of haven glistens above their unblinking eyes
constricted by the deafening silence,
untoned to the faint hymns of children's laughter.
"Stop to smell the roses", the wise men speak:
confidence is their ruse; do not let it deceive you.
They hide amongst the similar thousands of men,
yet never raising a head to any of them.
These are the children of our future.
Senseless to surroundings, spray them fresh air,
Move their cognitive gears to move their oil-rigged limbs;
Let their creative minds sway to the rhythm of rustling trees,
Revive the diverse culture of our people for these brainwashed folks;
Deny the irony of being consumed, when you are the consumer.
Sep 7, 2017
Sep 7, 2017 at 1:58 PM UTC
Music brought me into this world
It only grew during childhood
To be something important to me
To hear voices who understood
The words they reach me
The words they teach me
The beats they fill me
The beats they thrill me
I think of all the people I've met
Only to be never seen again
We had bonded over talks of music
Getting excited by the hits of then
The rhythm it takes us
The rhythm it makes us
The melody it soothes us
The melody it moves us
I have the discs I have the tapes
I have the audio escapes
I have the files I have the streams
I have the digitalised dreams
I have the music
The music has me
I find that it's never enough now
Always trying to find the hidden gem
Finding the old hearing the new
Living my life by the rpm
The chants I will speak
The chants I will repeat
The encores we demand
Encore we want the band
I have the discs I have the tapes
I have the audio escapes
I have the files I have the streams
I have the digitalised dreams
I have the music
The music has me
Jun 22, 2017
Jun 22, 2017 at 4:37 AM UTC
*i always thought that between life and death
i'd wake into one of my dreams...
the last dream i had, i was on an oil tanker,
and the sea was raging, waves as tall as colossus
of rhodes, feeding every tilt every turn,
waves as tall as the colossus of rhodes...
i'd rather die and sleep, than wake in one of these dreams.*
i woke and remembered
there was no whiskey left,
and realised i was to pull
through the night on will
alone, a few hours prior
i was sitting in a depth of
forest that allowed me to peer
into a street of passing traffic,
i started to sniff autumnal
leaves fallen, took to a young
tree and broke it in half,
peering at the scythe moon
encircling a fading globe of its fullest
example in between the extending
birch synapse oases, skeletons
of never attached to tendons and muscle,
if it sounds beautiful, it isn't,
there in the forest, the night,
the decaying scent of leaves...
i don't even think it's today, or yesterday,
or tomorrow, i think it's a never,
but it still happened,
but of course there's the rubric of
memorising a "distinguishable" monday,
when there isn't one, whether it's the month
of may or the month of march,
whether a digitalised two-thousand something
anno domini or preceding centuries of quote:
the dark ages, the renaissance, romanticism,
existentialism, don quixote all alone,
and something about chaucer the believer of
Alfred, the only mythical king of england /
i.e. only a few people deserve the logic of myth,
extending far into the abyss of time,
akin to the other logic (theology), which is
reserved for gods... who always seem to argue
their whereabouts with epileptic blinding spontaneousness:
just so someone can gain wealth by the non-existent argument.
Feb 10, 2016
Feb 10, 2016 at 6:33 PM UTC
World from black n white era has moved to a digital one
Just a finger on the button and the job is over and done
Now memories are digitalised and selfies are a craze
Photographs so painstakingly clicked are no more a rage Stood in melancholy reliving bitter sweet memories of days gone by
Structured in frames were cherished moments freezed
as life passes by !
Photographs of Parents ,grandparents, kids ,friends galore
Each one had in its frame life captured and tales of yore
A euphoric mystery that surrounded those photographs were visible
A Larger than life persona were captured in minuscule.
From positioning to fixing up light to the final click
A delightful squeak that erupts developing as contours pick .
The photograph made its way to the most prominent place
Glorifying every smile, teardrop ,agony, warmth with unmatched grace.
Adorning my wall of fame was a faded photograph of the last day of school
A pair of dark twinkling eyes ,two piggy tails that held unruly curls
In our school uniform one last time we stood ..eyes wet
Then light flashed -smilingly,holding hands we posed for a picture perfect !
The school girl now with silver streaks,hiding tears adjusts her specs as she laughs
And sheds fifty years of her life as she spots herself in that photograph!
Copyright@Bhargavi Ravindra
Feb 10, 2022
Feb 10, 2022 at 10:16 AM UTC
when the timestamp on your watch is
3:33
and for a split second
god shines down
from splintered heavens
and the breath that is silent
expands in my lungs
like a million sighs
like an enlarging balloon
racing to the explosion
I see the rapture in my digitalised smile
the bleeping raises to the crescendo
I feel the robot veins
I feel the steady hands
holding wrists
like ropes writ ready
god smiles like an enlarging balloon
hot and heavy
with bountiful love
but the timestamp flickers
from its devilish perfection
3:33
off the edge
cleaved down in a cliff face
I race on the blade of it
the seconds of sanctimonious breathing
coming to a stop
3:34
May 5, 2019
May 5, 2019 at 4:15 AM UTC
World from black n white era has moved to a digital one
Just a finger on the button and the job is over and done
Now memories are digitalised and selfies are a craze
Photographs so painstakingly clicked are no more a rage Stood in melancholy reliving bitter sweet memories of days gone by
Structured in frames were cherished moments freezed
as life passes by !
Photographs of Parents ,grandparents, kids ,friends galore
Each one had in its frame life captured and tales of yore
A euphoric mystery that surrounded those photographs were visible
A Larger than life persona were captured in minuscule.
From positioning to fixing up light to the final click
A delightful squeak that erupts developing as contours pick .
The photograph made its way to the most prominent place
Glorifying every smile, teardrop ,agony, warmth with unmatched grace.
Adorning my wall of fame was a faded photograph of the last day of school
A pair of dark twinkling eyes ,two piggy tails that held unruly curls
In our school uniform one last time we stood ..eyes wet
Then light flashed -smilingly,holding hands we posed for a picture perfect !
The school girl now with silver streaks,hiding tears adjusts her specs as she laughs
And sheds fifty years of her life as she spots herself in that photograph!
Copyright@Bhargavi Ravindra
Feb 10, 2022
Feb 10, 2022 at 6:42 AM UTC