Thursday, December 27, 2012

black its been and black it stays.

One day it’ll all make sense, if not today
And I’ll look back and say
Fuck’n ay…at least I had a day

Took me while but now I’m done.
Done lookin when there’s none
Thank you very much; its been fun

Not enough but that’s all I had
Cant help if they were good or bad
true lies that drove me mad

keep you whites and keep your grays
don’t look down; say it to my face
black its been and black it stays.
black its been and black it stays!

I aint complaining

Friday, July 06, 2012

Shape shifter

Man – a curious animal!
An ape that chose to walk upright
Hunt for flesh.
A confused animal with serious boundary issues!
Wouldn’t stay within his comfort zone.
Wouldn’t rest till it makes its zone comfortable!

An animal with severe identity crisis!
Some’d behave like wolves – fierce and ruthless
Hunters in a pack
Some’d be tigers – go it on their own,
Big cat prawling alone.
And some’d be horses and many are sheep
Laboring honest, happily bleeting
Taking their places in the food chain.

Not to be cynical – none too indignant,
None without honor –
The sheep – potent and alive
Horses – strong and noble
Tigers – majestic and graceful
Wolves – fierce predators, one with the night.
And pigs, and frogs and birds and house cats –
True to nature but then again…a lil bit more…

And then not just living things…
Man’s heart runs deep – deeper than the deepest oceans
Man’s will stand tall – taller than the tallest mountain
Man’s eyes see far – beyond the voids of time and space
Man’s shout frightens Gods – tearing through skies above!
Man’s dreams – make and break a billion worlds,
A zillion universes.

All that and just a funny animal
An ape that jumped the line…an ape that bent the rules
And continued breaking it.
A crazy ape that...wanted to be something else

Was it because he went mad?
Or did he figure something that all the other apes,
The tigers, the wolves, the sheep…couldn’t figure…

This ape somehow saw it…
saw It and became It…
‘It’ that flows throw all of it
making, and breaking, and binding it all
shaping and reshaping chaos
to meaning and back ..
He saw, he knew, he remembered
The eternal shapes shifter.

Sunday, June 24, 2012

"And let that page come out of you--- "

(Hit dislike on a poem today and now feeling a little guilty about it. So when I stumbled on to this, decided not to pass this up because it looked long. Glad I stayed.)


By Langston Hughes

The instructor said,
Go home and write
a page tonight.
And let that page come out of you---
Then, it will be true.
I wonder if it's that simple?
I am twenty-two, colored, born in Winston-Salem.
I went to school there, then Durham, then here
to this college on the hill above Harlem.
I am the only colored student in my class.
The steps from the hill lead down into Harlem
through a park, then I cross St. Nicholas,
Eighth Avenue, Seventh, and I come to the Y,
the Harlem Branch Y, where I take the elevator
up to my room, sit down, and write this page: It's not easy to know what is true for you or me
at twenty-two, my age. But I guess I'm what
I feel and see and hear, Harlem, I hear you:
hear you, hear me---we two---you, me, talk on this page.
(I hear New York too.) Me---who?
Well, I like to eat, sleep, drink, and be in love.
I like to work, read, learn, and understand life.
I like a pipe for a Christmas present,
or records---Bessie, bop, or Bach.
I guess being colored doesn't make me NOT like
the same things other folks like who are other races.
So will my page be colored that I write?
Being me, it will not be white.
But it will be
a part of you, instructor.
You are white---
yet a part of me, as I am a part of you.
That's American.
Sometimes perhaps you don't want to be a part of me.
Nor do I often want to be a part of you.
But we are, that's true!
As I learn from you,
I guess you learn from me---
although you're older---and white---
and somewhat more free.
This is my page for English B.

Saturday, May 26, 2012

I need to listen...

I need to listen...

Do not stand at my grave and weep

Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sun on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight.
I am the soft star-shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there; I did not die.
by Mary Elizabeth Frye 
 A beautiful, beautiful poem. Just a few, simple words...and in them holding such profound truths! Amazing! 
I'd donate my body, but I think I'd still want a grave though. Would b nice if someone comes and cries a li'l sometimes. Guess I've a long way to go before I learn to let go.

The world as he sees it

"A hundred times every day I remind myself that my inner and outer life are based on the labors of other men, living and dead, and that I must exert myself in order to give in the same measure as I have received and am still receiving.."

The World As I See It - An essay by Einstein

An amazing essay by an incredible mind. No point in trying to squeeze out the juice from here - its cooked just right - fat free and excuisite.

Saturday, April 28, 2012

“Where shall we meet again?”

“Where shall we meet again?”

“Nowhere but here
Once more before we meet elsewhere.”

“In rain?”
"It ought to be in rain. Sometime in rain.
In rain to-morrow, shall we, if it rains?
But if we must, in sunshine.”
 ~ Robert Frost (The Generations of Men)

So much has changed with blogger and I had no idea. Had a tough time finding the post options. Only fair I suppose...I don't write anymore.

Sometimes things bubble up in the mind...feels like there is something left to say after all. But its never convenient.  I'm on the way...have to do it later...hope I remember this stuff. Hey, think its coming...but its late. Need to get to sleep. There's always an excuse. Biggest one of which - its too damned scary, sitting down with a pen. Put that pen on paper and you know for sure...its lost. Forget about saying it right; forget keeping it together...there is just ...nothing there!

Nothing there besides self pity, self loathing, jealousy and hate. The bad kind. Kind that doesn't breed anything...except for posts like this.

But then, sometimes you flip a page...and find lines that makes your heart...just a bit lighter. It becomes just a little bit easy to carry yourself around. All that baggage...they suddenly decide to give you a break. For a moment, however!

God is a poet and poets are gods. Who else has the power to take you around heaven and hell like that?

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

Don’t mess up my zen man!

Was reading Isaac Asimov’s Azazel last night. Recommend it to anyone who is look for some clean, honest to goodness, ‘un-perverted’ (not a word) laughs. Anyhow, in one of the stories there was a reference to the quantum physics observer effect/uncertainty principle (or something along the line) that suggests that the outcome of a phenomena kinda depends of the observer and in some way or the other, the observer’s consciousness meddles with the outcome of the phenomena and thus, shapes the reality of the universe around him.

So, it is somewhat possible that an observer with a lot of negativity can jinx the world around him. Well, in the story there was a guy who called himself a teleklutz – a person who send Murphy’s law into overdrive wherever he goes. Got me thinking,…am I a teleklutz myself?

I’m probably worse. Been feeling that way for a while now. I don’t just mess things up around me, unconsciously, God knows I’ve been messing things up with my eyes wide open, for myself, and everybody around me. Then the world around me is messed up as it is and I sometimes have this feeling that it is my fault too! (Can you believe the ego on this guy?)

Anyhow, not here to tell a sob story. I went to bed telling myself that if I could mess things up by making things wrong, then perhaps I could straighten things out by …well…by being positive. Well, when you’ve been bitter, mad, angry and felt hollowed out and dumb for long enough, you’d try anything.

So I tried to go to sleep, playing shamanic drums in my ears and budda’s smile on my lips…u know, bringing on the ‘zen’ with all my might. The drums in the head kept on missing bits and Budda’s looked kinda retarded but thankfully I went under soon enough so that didn’t really matter.

Dragged myself outta the bed in the morning and remembered everything. Determined to keep up the ‘positive vibe’ I started on the way to work with the retarded smile from the night before. Well, 400 meters from home, came the first hiccup. Forgot my wallet.

But wasn’t about to let that ruin my zen. Picked up the pieces, and made it to work (an hour late as usual). The first smoke break (approximately 25 mins after settling down in my station, realizing that I should congratulate myself for setting down at work with excellent focus), - the weather was nice, smoke buddy was in a good mood, and determined to keep my ‘zen’, I was about to make my first unintelligent remarks of the day. Guess what, the universe wouldn’t have it. It wouldn’t let me ruin for myself or my audience. Stopping me from saying stupid things – now that’s no easy feat these days. Would nothing short of a divine intervention and that’s exactly what I got.

And it came the only way it could, the intervention - simple, subtle and a bit, just a bit, smelly. It came in the form…of bird poo. Crow to be exact, right from upstairs, on top of my upstairs. (Not to worry. No meaningful or intelligible thought got hurt in the process; all of ‘em vacated the location months back.) How very...zen!

And the day went well in the end. Saw some nice pictures. (I mean really looked at them) And also found this amazing video. Especially liked the bit with the angry God; loved the bit with the tree of life. Posting it here, as a consolation prize for all who actually stayed and endured this mad rant. :S