deepundergroundpoetry.com
Kal, Aaj aur Kal
1.
The first time we had met after hundreds of phone calls
and online messaging-she looked quite unwell-to say
the least but her stark vulnerability really got me
Her eyes scorched me-one inch a time till I had
tears in my own and she had to order some
food as the waiters were staring with
a sadistic grin that still affects me
She carefully removed my shirt
once we were inside her car
and asked me to lie down
then she slept on my
chest for an hour
while it rained
outside and I started
to feel cold-colder-more
when she woke up-dreamy eyed
she had a lingering smile-she spat
out a strand of hair from her mouth
and licked slowly across my goose bumps
giggling like a slum-Cinderella in a photograph
She wanted me to fuck her but I told her
that fuck is a powerful word and that's
not something I would ever intend-
so she asked if I would rather
love her then and started
sobbing-slow-muffled
there was a pattern
to it-beautiful-
unreal and
strange and
we hugged and
cried realizing love
was a much stronger word.
2.
We are married for three years now
The first year was quite quite long and
the second even longer and the third is quite
a prolonged-beautiful rape of everything each
one of us once was-believed or could have been
I am still the same-protective-afraid-powerless
I still struggle with my writing-listen to Choplin
and Mahler and watch Tom and Jerry often
I still save the last drop of piss for my
trousers and I still try and I still cry-
often for reasons a little vague for
me-may be due to the tears
I am still verbose-morose-
lachrymose-still myself
She has not changed
a lot herself over the years
She still blames me for the ruin
She screams-scores-steals
She hits-hurts-hides-holds
She looks me in the eye
and lies only to laugh
and at other times
she looks down
or goes to
the other room-
click-thud-bang
She still swears and
then starts to sob-
shaking-shaken-falling
I hold back the small balls
of choke that form one after
another like flimsy bubbles on
the backyard and embrace her
and she clings to me with her might
but she slips away-the great marital drift
Eventually she falls asleep and I stay with her
till I don't feel my legs or arms or anything at all
She throws up every time I feed and then starts
laughing-delirious-distant till tears roll down
her cheeks that dry within moments
We sit across-resting our heads
on our knees and listen to LPs
mostly Nick Drake-for hours
and her eyes stop moving
Help-Fuck-Die are the only
three words which have become
the dearest things to her and those
were things indeed we once used to do
not in that sequence-of course but these
days after all these years-two to be precise-
I guess I really can not fully be positive of that
the sequence I mean-what was what then.
3.
I met my ex-lover tonight-rather ex-wife
she is now a wife-a mother-seemingly happy
She wore an expensive evening dress with artsy
shoes and played with her straightened hair-got tipsy
and then as I went to drop her at her friend's she sobbed
and hugged me-her fingers dug in my white shirt and then
they were wet with blood-cold-watery as she stood inches away
and struggled to let go-cry she could not and we just stood there until
her phone rang-it was her son he wanted her to come and finish the story
in which the girl opens her window and closes her eyes-pause-
She sent him kisses and ended the call-pause-
She slapped me hard blinding me-leaving me there stunned-hot-stinging-alone and
I knew how the story had ended-the girl stays up-she does not come down-she
stands there-looking down at the boy and then she
just shuts the window and goes to sleep while
the boy waits till street dogs surround him
he cries all the way back home-in large sobs
that has crests and troughs-like the notes
of Gorecki's 3 rd symphony and in the end
they would be there within him-for days-
weeks-months-years that slap was not
the answer-but it was better than
indifference-pained
silence-nothing
And the boy does that
for weeks until the girl
comes down one night
with just a pouch and
they leave that world
for another-which they
create brick by brick-
drop by drop
and then
the totem turns
out to be a lie and
the world crumbles
majestic in its innate despair
gigantic in its scope and range-
pause-I started walking towards
the Taxi stand thinking if not having
hurt anyone one makes a better world
I mean how good is that and how true
is that for I hurt and get hurt and hurt
some more and in the end we
all get hurt and I have had
friends in my life who
walked back in the
penumbra towards
the darkness
as I watched
them and
then there was
none-only shimmering
footsteps which refused to
succumb to the wear and tear
for they were cemented by time like
a walk of fame-for hurt-and then I have had
seven hundred or so friends on facebook and
counting-they all say nice things to me and
write nice things to me and think well of
me and some of them were hurt and
some even hurt me but they all
believe that this is a better
world so which one is
true or rather which one
is relatively truer
I got inside the
taxi and waited
for the driver
to get in but
he finished
his drag
of death
pelted a
stone and
made a skinny dog
yelp and dash for his life
with a non functional leg
while Johnie Cash started it
a mild burning still there-circling
I smiled again-my scar of happiness
trapped in the future- figuring where it
all went w r o n g- so v e r y w r o n g.
Published 3rd Feb 2012
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Anonymous
3rd Feb 2012 1:55pm
Wonderful epic poem with avant guard presentation uses our own interpretation to mirror ourselves...a riddle where the answer comes from the soul of the reader
4th Feb 2012 8:16am
somelikeithot
Thank you for the read and the
beautiful comment.:)
Made me smile.
Light,
S'
Thank you for the read and the
beautiful comment.:)
Made me smile.
Light,
S'
Anonymous
4th Feb 2012 00:10am
good poem, i really like the syntax: it has a nice wave-type effect.
i haven't read all your work yet, but will be reading through the back catalog.
i would try and offer some valuable critique but, honestly, i'm bad at that type of thing.
i haven't read all your work yet, but will be reading through the back catalog.
i would try and offer some valuable critique but, honestly, i'm bad at that type of thing.
4th Feb 2012 8:18am
TryharderMartyr
Dear sir. Thank you for the visit.
It's an honour to have you here.
I am glad you liked it. An experiment
I must say.
I would really look forward to
hear from you.:)
Light,
S'
Dear sir. Thank you for the visit.
It's an honour to have you here.
I am glad you liked it. An experiment
I must say.
I would really look forward to
hear from you.:)
Light,
S'
