Wednesday, July 22, 2009

Wanderings of a Thoughtless Mind: Chapter 3.4

How else do you tell someone of their loss…

How else do you give bad news…

If not directly and serve it cold..

Why lace it with something thought out…

Not warm… not advice… not a feeling of respect…

Only truth and more salt on a wound about to be made…

No niceties… not sugar.. no antiseptic..

Only crass words, which stab like shards of dust in your eye…

Nails upturned…

bleeding toes remain…

‘pour some iodine’ they say…

the wound will go away…

no matter the pain…

no matter the burning feeling…

it’ll all pass.. it’ll all pass…

and u’ll be the stronger they promise…

Stronger.. really?

Stronger… how?

If strong means a loss of faith..

Then I’m surely stronger now…

Wanderings of a Thoughtless Mind: Chapter 3.3

Indignation, castration of talent

Unsuspecting little theives…

Of thought, of mind of happiness…

Always contemplating the critisisms of their lives…

And projecting out the atrocities of their kind…

In mindless words… having no meaning and even no sound…

Just spite and emotion and a sense of doubt…

Not only of the world and of human kind…

But of themselves since they have no mind!

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

Wanderings of a Thoughtless Mind: Chapter 3.2

How is it that before time..
Before air, before space before earth, before rhymes...

I dont understand how the sun would shine...
and how the wind would move and together chime

How the planets circle round and round..
How the sun manages to pull them out...

Does it reallly matter...
What really does..
we seldom even think about...

The shadows
the pains the horrors..
the sinking feeling at the end of each breath..

How it pains
how it aches

Not knowing how, when why where..
What are they thinking...
what are they feeling
who are they
what do they want

not knowing not feeling
not thinking...

who are these people
just mindless zombies
or just a race of pre pubescence

Not knowing any maturity
never know any old age..
Young and youthful always..

HIgh on acid...
High on hash

Never think about..
always rash

yet good at heart..
or maybe not..

animal instincts
mindless thoughts..
always just feeling..
never rationalizing...

Of mountains and blue skys
of green shores and golden beaches

just knowing them..
the colours of trees and the breeze
and the birds

never knowing..
always rash
never thinking
always brash

dont know what they are saying...
but who care anyways...
what do they/does it matter
they will die one day...


Wanderings of a Thoughtless Mind: Chapter 3.1

It rains it pours...
Sacramental Whores..
and life goes on..

NOt a thing in sight,
not a horse on its back...
and life goes on...

the full belly and an empty bladder...
muscles paining.. and head splattered...

the running nose and a dribbling mouth...
dry as a bone, dry as a drought...

they reach the sands
the oasis of time..
they move across...
one desert at a time..

all this feeling
the palm trees shades...
never know the mirages
of an evergreen rain...

it rains it pours
On sacramental whores...
and life goes on..

Sense of Sadness

This set of writings are just certain inputs into my percieved book... there is no structure to it as yet but im hoping that as i go along i can find some structure...

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Chapter 1


Huffing and puffing and blowing and breathing, he awoke to the dimmly lit confines of his kitchen. It took him a minute to realise where he was.. and how he got there.. but soon it sturck him.
This is where he stayed.
He looked down at his folded t-shirt which he used as his pillow, and it was drenched with a combination of his sweat and spit and evidently he had wet his bed again. He knew he was going to get beaten in the morning by his grandmother...
He could already hear her voice, "Shame on you! All of 7 years and still wetting your bed... When will you learn and grow up! How many times have I told you to go to the loo before you sleep... God save us from this useless child.. hope we dont have to clean up after you till your 20..." and on and on and on... intermingled with some slaps and abuses he didnt understand, but yet used in school...
He rubbed his eyes, wiped his mouth, wrapped up the blanket he used as a bed and stood there wondering what to do. He then tiptoed past the one other room in his small one roomed house and went to the bathroom, locked the door. Hoping that nobody woke up, he starts washing the blanket being as soft and subtle as he can.
He had been having similar dreams of late, ones of pain and sadness and remorse.
Ones that didnt allow him to sleep... and most times he was too scared to wake up...
THese dreams had people... places... histories... and tragedies...
He could remember these dreams clearly.. as if he was awake through them... experiencing them as his own...
All the pain was his... all the people were him...
Today's dream was different...
todays dream was more real...
He suddenly closed his eyes and tried to remember the dream... not wanting to.. but not being able to resist...

He saw a man...
Deeply pained...
Always drunk..
In society maligned...

He fought with his wife...
And threw a vessel at her face..
It missed her by miles...
but thats all she could take...

She walked out the door...
She took away her five year old child...
She was at her neighbours house..
When she heard a loud noise...

They all ran out...
and they all ran in...
There he lay on the ground...
Under the roof he was pinned...

A rope around his neck...
The other end on the beam..
It didnt take his weight...
THis he didnt forsee...

She felt unhappyness...
She felt relief...
She sat down and held her child close...
She felt she was free...

He could somehow feel many different emotions. HE had felt the pain of the man.. he had felt the anger of the woman... he could also feel the confusion of the child...
This was new... he generally could only feel one emotion at a time... He didnt know what was happening to him...

HE slowly opened his eyes.. he felt some wetness on his cheeks... he wiped his face with his arm and gets back to washing his blanket...

Suddenly he hears the building rooster crowing... he looks at the bathroom window and realises that morning is near.. it must have been around 5 am.. he needed to get back to the kitchen before his mother wakes up in 15 minutes... so he quickly wrings the blanket... and wrings it again... once he is convinced of enough dryness... he quickly tiptoes back to the kitchen... lays out his blanket and pretends to be back in bed...

Sure enough his mother wakes up within a few minutes of his little act... he softly smiles to himself, to the thought of him having gotten away with the entire charade... and the fact that his grandmother will not have a chance to beat or scold him since the evidence was washed away...
and within minutes he is back to being fast asleep.. with a big grin on his face...

What he didnt know was that as he closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief, his grandmother went to the loo... slipped on the water and had a gaping open wound on her head..

She couldnt be revived before the ambulance reached...
She was rushed to the hospital... doctors declared that she was in a coma...

She died 2 days later.

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