Saturday, May 06, 2006

Speaking my mind

“I grieve to hear the language of the spirits prattled by the tongues of the ignorant. It slays my soul to see the wine of the muses flow over the pens of the pretenders.” [*]

Flea of dogs, freeloading parasites, slimy maggots – you who have armed yourselves with platinum tipped pens, trendy attires and the pretentious air of sophistication, do you feel the scorn of the poet in the above words? I think not. For you and your kind have not the heart to feel nor the faculty of mind to grasp the meanings of those words which have been told and retold, written and rewritten, in the pages of the books you industriously collect to decorate your living rooms. You learnt the words by heart but a dead heart that would forever fail to nourish the blood with the breath of life and truth in those words.

You are the sons of ‘Gabbers’. You take great pains to polish your speeches and choose your words carefully to impress others like you in society tea parties. You speak eloquently of things that are either of no consequence or of things that are, were, and will forever be out of your reach. How dare you frown upon the honest seekers of truth? How dare you question their words? They would rather go with obscenity than speak your language.

I am sorry my bottom feeding friends. I should not have been so harsh on you. After all spirits of the poets ask us to treat lowliness with kindliness. You are not to be loathed but pitied. You have been born to a soulless, truth less, worthless life, which will just go on, feed, procreate, perish and be forgotten. Your fickle self and feeble words will fulfill but one purpose – produce first-rate poo paper for your rich patrons for whom you so aggressively abused, mercilessly mutilated and shamelessly falsified the divine verses spoken by the rag-clad bearers of truth. Of course, in brief moments of clarity you understand that it is the blessed soul of the enlightened and not your well groomed behinds that God holds dear and your attempts to get even is but futile. May the lord take mercy on your souls.

Who am I to raise my voice against you? I am but one of many ‘oppressed by the clang of steel and clamor of factories.’ My words are as ‘heavy as freight trains and are as annoying as steam whistles’. It is true that like you I too have sold my soul on numerous occasions. Flashes of gold have blinded my eyes once too often. Never the less I say it with pride that every gold penny I take from the treasure chest of temptations, I put back with interest and the interest is paid in blood. Like many I was born with a wooden tongue and a soulless heart. But the spirits spoke to me and made me drink from ‘the cup of poetry that dwells in the soul’. It has given me the eyes to see the ‘fake messiahs’ in your midst; and that my friend gives me the right to stand here today and speak my mind.

“And you, the real poets, forgive us. We belong in the New World where men run after worldly goods; and poetry, too is a commodity.” [*]

[Kahlil Gibran, Thoughts and Meditations]


Kazi Rubaiat Imam said...

hola omit! eto chetso keno?

Weatherman said...

Haha, if I knew why life woulda been really simple. :P