Strange things
struck Sean with punches from unknown corners when his mind was numbed and at
the same time excited through sleep deprivation and intoxication. It swallowed,
spit and shit out primitive insecurities
strung on a wire, left to dry, and then forgotten. Now dry, hard and black
hanging from rusty wires, they looked like chunks of hardened pitch scraped off
from the roads and put up for exhibition under the sun. The colors of the
plastic clips holding the clothes, have faded. Springs have emerged from the
sides, distorting the plastic. The sun has not only stolen the clothes' water
and then life but also turned them into something different. Alchemy it seems.
When base metals turn into gold they discard their own peasant selves to become
the best version of them they could be, something warm. But you see shiny
metal, now you can be worn as ornaments, used as decoration or exchanged for
money, you will never be useful again. But you can smell the perfumed sweat now
instead of sweaty palms awkwardly moving along your spine and swinging you into
a tree bark to come to a stop in its insides and jam the upward flow of earthly
juices. You can glide over the moles of the neck now and not worry about the
flakes of skin that come off of the corners of the fingers and the heart of the
thighs when scratched vigorously, because of mosquitoes that got inside the
pants through the space between the flesh and the fabric to leave bumps. Sean's
left knee touched the cold floor left after the mattress claimed its space.
Punches are made of fists, not knees, no cheating!
Another face in the opaque crowd searching for some translucence to diffuse and project his myriad thoughts through this utterly abhorrent state of lame rigidity.
Sunday, June 26, 2016
Punches
This multifarious gibberish was inscribed by
Sayak Shome
while he was in a trance at
12:32 PM
57
cure(s) for the lunatic.


Thursday, August 7, 2014
WMoeradning
“Hello Word, I am your Meaning.”
“But you are trapped inside me.”
“Why can’t you let me be?”
“Why do you want to be free?”
“I don’t want a body.”
Words without Meaning
a chirp
burps
shit and vomit
colour
throbbing
rejecting
affected
but healing
ideas
worth
naked
ariel
on the rocks
madonna sees everywhere
lisa has fled
ramona is in rio
bacchus points
da da dum
john is a hippie
she died
she died
in a stove
ghastly
such darkness
fire
soot
train
the orange
is blue
pineapple has eyes
a million
merry go round
profound
savage
.
This multifarious gibberish was inscribed by
Sayak Shome
while he was in a trance at
5:18 AM
13
cure(s) for the lunatic.


Labels:
Eccentricities,
Love,
Poetry
Sunday, November 24, 2013
That-man in his naked feet
Treading the snow,
his naked feet shivered.
He envisaged
his days
of treading the burning coal.
When
he performed
the latter,
he envisaged
the former.
People
were however,
always entertained.
They envisaged both,
as he performed none.
This multifarious gibberish was inscribed by
Sayak Shome
while he was in a trance at
4:17 AM
21
cure(s) for the lunatic.


Labels:
Eccentricities,
Poetry
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