Wednesday, 26 March 2025

Paint the floor red

Earnest spring
with morning calls 
Go away 
I await the fall
Mine 
And November too
When yellow and reds
Cover the hopes of all
That is a call I would answer
To slip in my bathroom 
Hit my head and abruptly die

When you chance upon
Walk carefully if my kitchen, 
   my haunt
The floor was replaced 
And rather skillfully
Move me, sit me up
Carry me,
 place me on wood
Maybe beneath the deciduous neem
Detach me from my iron ring
Set me alight
And never call

Go back, 
Get my bathroom mopped 
Place the ring on my narrow stall
Sprinkle some oil
Spill a burning lamp
Burn my home then
Burn it all

Set me and my land free

Golden lights nor paddy fields

Let us meet and greet until, not overburden each
For nothing-what and how-much matters, never has, never could
In being with this wise demon that was born, invisible, as my conjoined twin
It beckons me to let everything pass, through this life that is an hour glass
Where a celebration gathers, and then all narrows, only to widen and gather again, only now to mourn
Let my passing be as insignificant, as happy as I have been from birth for this, and as for my very existence thereon

When you or any, who pleasantly, if such a term could be used in knowing me, should remember me
Do not call my name, let it be called in silent uttering
For I would not wish to be seen, heard, or pulled back to the insanity of this perpetual boredom called life
You, and some, painted it with colours, but like all that fades under the sun, they too have
I have not sought permanence, nor the clemency of worth, nor of life
Let me pass, let me pass on

Come November, when the winter sun warms, know it was always here every winter
And so were the paddy fields of Kharif that sway golden, ripe, to reap 
I was of no consequence, and rightly and happily as such 
Be you and whoever you wish to remain, not a reminiscent of my bindings to you
You were free, you were always you,as any were
My love, you made life a bit more liveable, and I offer my gratitude to such
And at such note, I bid you goodbye.



Analysis by co-pilot

### **Themes**
1. **Impermanence**: The poem embraces the transient nature of life, relationships, and existence, reflected in metaphors like the "hourglass" and "colours that fade in the sun." It conveys a sense of peace in letting go.
2. **Duality**: The speaker refers to a "wise demon" as a "conjoined twin," symbolizing an internal struggle or constant companion—perhaps a metaphor for doubt, introspection, or existential awareness.
3. **Freedom and Release**: There's a strong undercurrent of liberation, as the speaker wishes to "pass on" unburdened and urges others to live freely, without being tied to memories or bindings.
4. **Gratitude and Love**: Despite the focus on impermanence, the speaker finds beauty in fleeting moments, expressing gratitude for those who brought meaning to life.

---

### **Imagery and Symbolism**
- **The Hourglass**: Represents the passage of time, emphasizing the narrowing and widening flow of life, celebrations, and eventual mourning.
- **The Winter Sun and Paddy Fields**: Natural imagery highlights continuity and renewal. The "winter sun" symbolizes warmth and presence during cold times, while the "paddy fields of Kharif" evoke life’s ripe moments ready to be harvested.
- **Colours Fading in the Sun**: A poignant metaphor for the fading joy, relationships, or vitality, reinforcing life's ephemeral nature.
- **Silent Uttering**: Suggests a profound respect for the speaker’s wish to pass without legacy, in quiet dignity.

---

### **Tone**
The tone of the poem is reflective, philosophical, and bittersweet. It's a careful balance between detachment and deep emotion—a voice that has found solace in the inevitability of endings while expressing gratitude for life’s fleeting beauty.

---

### **Structure**
The poem flows as free verse, mirroring the natural rhythm of thought and emotion. Its lack of rigid structure complements the speaker’s desire to break free from life’s "bindings" and the monotony of "perpetual boredom."

---

### **Emotional Impact**
Your poem evokes a complex blend of emotions—serenity, sadness, gratitude, and liberation. It stirs introspection in readers, inviting them to reflect on their own connections to impermanence and the search for meaning amidst life’s cycles.

---

### **Message**
The speaker invites readers to:
- Embrace impermanence and accept the ebb and flow of life.
- Value moments and relationships without seeking permanence or attachment.
- Live freely, without lingering on the bindings of memory or regret.

---

Tuesday, 18 March 2025

Devouring

She raises her legs, resting it to my shoulders
I caress and she lets out a sigh, deep, slow
Her thirst grows, as does mine
She moans to my tongue tracing her veins, while my blood rushes to devour her whole 
Her soles merge into my waist, grip me coiled
My wrists keep her thighs from closing, making way for my tongue to roam
In between the coiled devouring and being devoured
I hear her plead for my hungry mouth to cede, yet not wanting me to
Yet the passion of thirst rises to taste her honey, 
Making her squirm and shudder, as she raises her hips and falls
My hair is her grip on reality, fading into stars, her mind overwhelmed 
She finds her breasts rubbing to my chest 
I find myself engulfed deep in her flesh, embedded
As her body devours my all
I relinquish my firmness and she drips most of me
She has a hunger matching my dark thoughts
Of being beings of lust, bodily fluids micible
Forming moments of ecstasy, dissolving time above all

Tuesday, 4 March 2025

Do right by me.

May my soul have the same accountability 
And the grit to accept my mistakes
So,
Play me some Bach when, I hate pianos
But I despise death too, enough to love it
Lay me at the tower of silence, I hate earth too
Fire would purify me, I reject my worth true
Like the flames Zoraster set, I won't accept my due
I shall rot, don't in silence with insolence rue
May my soul have mirth, poke one at death true
When you think of me, don't unless it hurts to
Let me be, as I was in infantile lone
When I be silent, follow my cue
I hold no grudge now, nor a thought of us two