Sunday, December 23, 2007

Turn of the Year...

From ashes to ashes, from dust to dust, but some things don't blackout from the mind. Specially with the Noel beginning from this day on, a lot comes rushing back and refuses to leave.

So, seasons greetings merry gentlemen and fondest wishes for the lady. Merry Christmas and happy resolution free new year :)

Friday, December 14, 2007

Negotiating With the Dead


Taking you back in time. Two years, give or take a few months. Fasten the makeshift seat belts for this time machine wasn't designed for more than one. I promise nothing more than a return to the right here right now that you leave ahead and now that it is understood between us...shut the door. We are getting outta here.

Are your ears still ringing after crashing through the years and when I speak do my lips form unintelligent words. Maybe we will understand better now that the protocol of words is stalled and we negotiate through gestures- untaught in the doctrine of kinesics we have nothing to misrepresent, mislead or misconstrue. When I was a child I would peer through coloured glasses- one half of the world would be flushed with bright lemon sunlight and one bathed in lurid chiaroscuro. But don't let me distract you...we didn't come all the way back for coloured glasses...but who knows when blood dries on red glasses or when red roses bleed.

Walk in...don't touch the dusty song sheets slipped under coffee mugs and yes, I know I never finished writing it down and yes I know you could help me with the finale but you can't change a thing here and when we go back it would be gone. Walk over..around the couch...don't worry thats just me trying to get some sleep before another working day tries to enervate.But before I wake up lets wind up the thing we came here for, shall we? Right? Good.

I want you to see this girl I have trapped within raspberry and tulip frames. She is so beautiful, unclouded brows, a smile and not a preset. I had a good mind of throwing her away, but this baby intrigues me and I kept her on the shelve. Somewhere where I could forget that she exists so that years of dust could hide...sorry...I forgot you are still around. Was I talking to myself? I am crazy? Then what are you?

But shh...you will wake me up. Tell me, how does she make self sufficiency seem so simple or love her little world with unconditional love. Like music not yet recalled is made of, which lulls you to sleep, colours your dreams, like an atmospheric flute playing and losing identity with your subdued attempts to hum. Nothing hackneyed...not like it is now.

But, I sound too much like an emo and excuse my sentimentalizing the dead. Its time for us to leave...close the door softly behind.

Wednesday, December 12, 2007

Syncopation

To What's In a Name,

This is to notify you that I have rolled the dice in this tagging game you lassoed me with. And before you take up the next few minutes of your life going through my playlist, I would like to mention that your choices are far from being soporific. Anyway, here goes...

Rules:
1. Put your MP3 player/Media player on shuffle
2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.
3. You must write the name of the song no matter what.

IF SOMEONE SAYS “IS THIS OKAY?” YOU SAY?
Wicked Game [REM]

WHAT WOULD BEST DESCRIBE YOUR PERSONALITY?
Another Day [Dream Theater]

WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY/GIRL?
Little Wing[ The Corrs version]

[alrighty this is certified dumb. Little Wing?]

HOW DO YOU FEEL TODAY?
Child in Time[ Deep Purple]


WHAT IS YOUR LIFE’S PURPOSE?
Reel Around The Sun [ Riverdance]


WHAT IS YOUR MOTTO?
At My Most Beautiful [REM]


WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU?
Coming Back To Life [ Pink Floyd]

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR PARENTS?
It Ain't Me Babe[ Bob Dylan]



WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN?
Electrical Storm[ U2]

[*grin*]


WHAT IS 2+2?

For the Love of God [ Steve Vai]


DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND?
Wind up [Jethro Tull]

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
Don't Panic [ Coldplay]


WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY?
Bobby Brown Goes Down[ Zappa]

[No, no...*shriek*..*faint*]



WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP?
Aaj Jane Ki Zid Na Karo [ Farida Khanum]

WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
Jeremy [Pearl Jam]


WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU?
Slow Dancing In a Burning Room[ John Mayer]

WHAT WILL YOU DANCE TO AT YOUR WEDDING?
Importance of Being Idle [ Oasis]

WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL?
On an Island [David Gilmour]


WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST?
A Weekend with You [ Warren Mendosa]

WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET?
Starry Night [Satch]

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS?
Ave Maria[ Franz Schubert]

WHAT SHOULD YOU POST THIS AS?
Scarecrow [Pink Floyd]

Yours faithfully, Antigone

Monday, December 10, 2007

Just a Thought.



















Now if the ladies and gentlemen present promise not to raise their objections, I would like to ask you...where had you been all my life? Hey there, look at me...and some one please turn the radio off...I can hardly hear a word...or is it just static between us?
You were expected before...or did my invitation reach you too little, too late?

You see, I mistook a few for you. They walked in, walked about,walked all over..but now that I see you unwinding in my parlor, I know I had been entertaining ghosts in your name. They looked like you till I saw them silently facing the sunset- the lines of your face burn with life in the dying light. They sounded just like you, till I heard them whisper promises- you don't promise me...you promise to yourself. They felt like you too, till they held my hand- they hold on to hold me back and you hold on to take me places I have never dreamt of.

Is it a sojourn or are you here to stay? Oh,a sojourn...fine...I think we can have our breakfast now. You don't mind honey in tea, do you...and someone turn the volume up...they are playing one of my favorite songs.

Saturday, December 8, 2007

Its quarter past one...and its one of those days when its just me and a screen absorbing my erratic thoughts. When inspiration dwindles,caffeine induced bad poetry or stilted prose forged using impersonal third person voices is all I can manage. Although it becomes a matter of clinical curiosity to observe that after furiously typing down emotions hidden behind the bulwark of words, or typing down winding lines that curl into an insignificant dot or oblique allusions carefully generalized, I think- But this is not what I meant at all. This is not it at all.

Then what devil is it that makes me write? Your guess would be as good as mine but when the hideous chorus rises in my head, I haven't been taught a better way to cope or delude. With a little help from my necessary evil of course.
I am learning that when you clench too tightly, it begins to hurt. And I am also learning that if you clench sand too tightly, it slips between your fingers and...then that hurts.
I am trying to learn that my whimsical demands for closures need a tourniquet I can not undo later. And I am also trying to teach myself the exemplary balancing act.

Strangely I do not wish to bring this to a close now. Shouldn't closures be for matters resolved and not for matters which ride in tandem with incertitude? Choosing between right and wrong ails not me and things are not coloured by shades of necessity. My hamartia lies some place else...a farce in two acts.

Friday, December 7, 2007

I would like to translate this minute into a symphony or a play, a sonnet or a melody. Something beautiful, something fine, something to last for a lifetime.

Thursday, December 6, 2007



My Ahiliya, sleep in my arms
Long has been my wait,since you rose from my side
My warrior come home, to kiss my feet
Take off your deerskin, put your cares aside
The mountains retire into the mist
And the leaves shiver in the cold
Lie on the pillow I wove for you
Lie beside me, the night grows old
I am the tsula you draw in
And I am the smoke that surrounds you
I am the one certainty you have
When the dark spirit confounds you
This pipe is man, strong and enfolds
The bowl and his woman he holds
Till all his thoughts within
Gently under the skies, unfolds.
And when you arch to draw the smoke
The Creator's breath fills your soul
And the smoke rises up to unify
Broken once and then made whole
Our dreams and hopes twirl in the fume
But our prayers against the gathering gloom
Is the 'us' we have, not talismans and charms
Rest my Ahiliya, sleep in my arms...


............................................................

Drawn from a native American folk lore. Its interesting to witness the intrinsic part grass plays in love, religion and the community. Although, this post is not to advocate for it. We, unfortunately live in different times.

Tuesday, December 4, 2007

Comic Art


Trying to post this ...um..post again. Hope my luck won't run out on me this time around and the images will load just fine.


















Sunday, December 2, 2007

Reds four up against Bolton. Rafa is happy tonight and so am I. 30 points, a GD of +20 and escalation to third position[but thank your Anfield stars for that Nicolas Anelka botch up]. Man Utd have a game tomorrow against Fulham so we might have to climb down the rung.

But methinks thats tomorrow and let tomorrow worry about itself.

Ophelia.

And when tonight is done
I think I'll rest my tired feet
And I think, I am thinking too much
Or is this the sweet taste of defeat


As Eirene walked on the wooden board, her spangled sleeves caught the sun's stare and gleamed.When I peel off my skin do I terrify, or should I just swipe the smile off my face.... Sound make ridges,a sleepwalker awakens and she thinks he recites his lines to perfection

Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister,
And keep you in the rear of your affection,
Out of the shot and danger of desire.
...

You said you wish to know me, inside out, without within, so why do I terrify now when I peel off my skin. I hear a voice say Be wary then; best safety lies in fear but what remedy to curiosity .

Eirene,Eirene don't you desecrate...I lift the branch and shrink under the weight. Someone get me out of here.. And she says-

Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven


And she is tempestuous yet calm, intense yet remote. She spins words like a juggler but her pretty talks are the empty wares of an illusionist. I have seen her dancing alone, spinning lightly with a lonely drummer boy for company. Then why does she recoil when I bend to hear the music of her footsteps.

Have I myself of my audience been most free, beautiful and grotesque like yonder Joshua tree


He hath, my lord, of late made many tenders
Of his affection to me.


LORD POLONIUS
Affection! pooh! you speak like a
green girl
Unsifted in such perilous circumstance.
,

Come hide me from tomorrow's stern glance, one taste of your fake romance and I would earn my degree.


Tender yourself more dearly
Too frail for the labor of love
But you gave in nearly...

Now I always had Lazarus's soul and I rose from the ashes too. I wailed for my demon lover and waited for angels to see me through. Ah, Ophelia thou art sleeping still and Look to't, I charge you: come your ways

Lady lies in the shallows with the lyre in her arms. She mutely watches as the colours drain from her sky and forms little puddles. But oh, how she likes a chiaroscuro. From the shallows weeds grow, and cover the sleeping child within.But did no one tell you that in a sleep of death what dreams may come


Hamlet, I grow weary,so weary
You pass me by like a stranger
You make love to my memory
Then how in my orisons all your sins be remember'd.


she hears
There's tricks i' the world; and hems, and beats her heart;
Spurns enviously at straws; speaks things in doubt,
That carry but half sense: her speech is nothing,
Yet the unshaped use of it doth move
....

Now I shall take my leave..smile and bow graciously..no farewell speeches please. Goodbyes are best made by not making them at all and though you shall be missed...Come, my
coach! Good night, ladies; good night, sweet ladies;
good night, good night.




........................................................................

The words etched in bold are the Bard's and have been carefully quoted from Hamlet, the first Shakespearean tragedy I read and could make some slight pretense of understanding. Before ADS and his Macbeth happened [ I say his Macbeth although he made it as much ours...a breathing reality rather than a fabled king from the gilded pages of academia]this text about the lovelorn lady and doomed prince fascinated me. And how.

An exercise in alternate narrative.

Saturday, December 1, 2007