dog or an oyster(written in collaboration with a friend, chytra)

A downpour tonight,
predicted with a thunder too many.
What shall i do about my sensitive hearing?
A thunder in my ears, multiplies ... up to infinity ...
And some incessant howls clouding my thoughts.

Why,
I'm harmless enough inside my shell
Day in and day out
...
Why do these sounds rattle my soul ...

They make jewels of my agony,

bead it and flaunt it as pride
Those tiny little allegories of pain,

of genuine gold-plated dog tears

And write about them sympathetically in old books dog eared
Hypocrites!

Or clink glasses a few,

of dead tonic and gin.

Over lonely dog-tales

No one sees through my eyes
They drown in their glory
To feel high!

The downpour tonight nevertheless,
shall be the end of it.

And furry little truths shall crawl out of their shells.

Oh no, they shall make no more jewels of dogs pretending to be oysters.

Not after
the
thunder
tonight.

For i shall howl too
And dance alone

Also dig a hole
to find a bone
And rest my shell
Free is my soul

 

lessons in wanderlust

Someday, just like one of these,
I'd simply
numb and quiet,
walk out of this shell.
A story engulfing me shall be shed, then a cast of dead skin if nothing else.

I moult through words, phrases, punctuations and names. In a constant flux of transition between what was once me to what is unknown.

I live in a fickle sense of reality,
the present being nothing more than a metaphor.
Like evolution, crawling out of ideas is what we call the essence of survival.

The way, a poet gathers the sand in his fist and lets it , again to seep into a distant reality.
A sand-dune to another.
One formless form to another.

The arrow of time piercing the thick vivid canvas of the metaphysical like everything else.
Like everything else,
my abstraction walking with me towards the needed disorder.
The way we all shall,
expanding hot masses of nebula destined to be a white dwarf.
Yes, somewhere in our lifetime, our brilliance shall stretch out to the horizon before fading, and leave behind a warmth.
A warmth of words, phrases, punctuations and yes,
names.

We all evolve.