The night bows out tired; in rushes reddish new dawn
What is ahead in store for him, knows not he forlorn;
From afar a bird chimes a broken welcome note mourn
To the light that shakes up at the distant horizon!
He wipes away the cobwebs of his hung over thoughts
Sticky wet, like the last drying silent tears spots…

His bugle of duty calls; beckons to take up arms
He must put on now his myths, wear the attitude calm;
The mountain paths lie ahead await the grind of rams
Those grief laden story wheels must roll on unalarmed!
Hail the country, hail the flag! He is one in a swarm;
His feels, he must forgo; his freedom in chains unarmed…

-Kesav Venkat Easwaran-
29th October 2010

I do not like it here
I do not like what we have.

Take the shovel,
here.

Pigeon-toed,
austere.

Dig deep in the earth,
big capable man.

Plunge through that dirt
until you reach the other side.

I'm
restless
as desert dust

the steps on me,
heavy.

Plant in me
the rose

and garden
the romance.

Won't you
resuscitate
the dear
in my tongue

tighten
the clutch
of these arms

soften
this face,
unalarmed

out of its casket
into a smile...

Take the shovel,
here.

You’ve been cold too.
Your body is quivering

so
dig
through
that
dirt

Dig deep in the earth,
big capable man.

Bring us both back
the last breathing rose.

But the man with the shovel
never came back...

However
I did hear he reached the other side.

With my first words
I struck a match
Like a flick
On the zipper of a faded pair of jeans
She notices
Unalarmed
Not convinced

I bring the flame
(Flickering with ambivalence)
Up to my face
Square between my eyes
And she watches

She watches
Behind glasses of dis-concern
The gloss of her eyes
Reflecting the light
Like lies

I make a motion
As if to blow out
The flame
A whispered apology
But instead

It catches with a click
The steps that lead across
A wood-framed arch
Between my eyes and hers

Heat-soaked hands
Climbed like a ladder
Rung by rung
To the space of disbelief
Living in the “o” of her mouth

The flames race
Faster
Burning the bridge
To the ground

I think—
I think there was a man and a woman...
They were arguing.

Inside the man’s tightly curled fist
Rested a pistol
With his index finger slumbering on the trigger.

The woman,
Unalarmed, stepped forwards
Challenging the man.

He jumped in reaction,
The gun flailing along with his taut, strained arms.
The woman began to shout, when

An explosion of gunpowder
Cut open all the air


         And everything went silent.

.....and then it came.....unalarmed. ....sudden.....the slap on her face. ....

The argument had started the previous day.  The matter didn't even matter as it was so trivial. But the fight was big.
She first made her timid suggestions and then put them a bit firmly as she strongly believed in the plan....A plan they had both carefully plotted ......she cud not fathom the sudden change and he cud not fathom the disagreement. ....

Two years into the marriage. ...still primitive. ...still raw. ...still fresh. ...still. .........

She hadn't quiet recovered from the shock of what had just happened when the phone rang. ....one hand on the cheek she answered the phone with the other. ....

Mom it had to be. ....
"Happy birthday to you meri jaan...."
"Did you already get your birthday gift. ..???!!!"

"Thanks Ammi....Oh yes I did. ...and I am holding it with my other hand....."

An unalarmed life
rostered by a rooster

A solar pendulum
his only time piece

Dawn is an eyelid, raised
daily by an ebbing night

One season is a leaf with
wings, others differ noticably

Our pasts and our futures are
provenance to destination on

Trains through tunnels with
no means of disembarkation.

Aristide is here yesterday today and
tomorrow, his grammar permits it.


                  <>

https://vimeo.com/101027027

password is aris13

What mysteries I see that unwritten histories
Laying on my bed transmitting through my head and live Destinies
Hopes and dreams that seem to glean the tattered mind within me
Segments of shows that unfolds as a well organized symphony
Mix with the unreality of my fatality of my present society
constantly heightened to begin the reel of sin to my false reality
effortlessly living in a world I pretend to see
Filling in the words never heard outside of my mental tapestry
Unalarmed by the continual harm to my character’s Divine legacy
Deep impressions of evil secession start to formate my death decree
So I am praying about how to get out of what is creating my soul’s debris
I pray to surrender what hinders me from becoming free
Free from the sentence of death and the unwritten histories