Occidental Queerness

Occidental Queerness

Rustling of leaves in post-Autumn wind

Wasting the Time in the chest of memories

Catering the wounded soldier

And dancing before the dead horse

Listening to ‘Smells like Teenage Spirit’

To forget that you are a creature of night

Learning, from death-bed to coffin

The only reason you were once alive!

Army of locusts have faded into mist

The plague has vanished in the ‘Sixties

So that, doctors could return to kill!

12-02-07~08

Grayscale

Grayscale

Acting as dumb do

Singing as numb do

On the stage of life

Surrounded by fake smiles

Whispering the true lies

Eating like one has to save the world

Preying like the beast with no heart

Love has long left

Courage—which can fire one up—

Is now just reduced to ashes

12-01-29

Kafka on the Shore

Following lines are from Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami:

You sit at the edge of the world,

I am in a crater that’s no more.

Words without letters

Standing in the shadow of the door.

The moon shines down on a sleeping lizard,

Little fish rain down from the sky.

Outside the window there are soldiers,

Steeling themselves to die.

Kafka sits in a chair by the shore,

Thinking of the pendulum that moves the world, it seems.

When your heart is closed,

The shadow of the unmoving Sphinx

Becomes a knife that pierces your dreams.

The drowning girl’s fingers

Search for the entrance stone, and more.

Lifting the hem of her azure dress,

She gazes –

At Kafka on the shore.

The Ocean of Unknown Depth

The Ocean of Unknown Depth

Sun rising from the West

Corona of Moon still lingers

On the Day of Final Judgment

Purging the sense itself

Like it never existed

Hating your lovers, even

More than you ever hated your worst foes

Wasting no more teardrops

In the trivial abyss

12-01-23

A Far-fetched Cry

A Far-fetched Cry

When one’s able to read

The darkness beholding the truth

Resurrecting the soul

From the clay of white lies

Shrieking at the top of one’s voice:

“Like a liar looking for forgiveness from a stone”

To be earnest with Ecclesia

But in heart to be one with Galileo

12-01-23

Suffering from the Moon Twilight

Suffering from the Moon Twilight

Aftermath of Love

Is but scattering

In the wind of bitterness

And like cut by a knife of nonsense

One’s heart bleeds

Tears of sorrow

Dusk, full of hollow

Moon, without life

Barren and yet…

Beautiful

12-01-08

Poison

Poison

Life was hell?

No, but the reason it was alive

Made it hell

If a raindrop could be searched

In all of ocean water

The search itself would ridiculed

When Love could be changed into hate

Why, then, hate could not be turned into Love?

Alas! I spent my life in chasing

A dream, dreamt by others

And Loved someone

Who could not be mine!

If I could change

What I have

Nothing would have demoralized my Soul

In the Search of soul-mate

2012-04-17

Kamelot - Love You To Death

My Relationship with Cigar

My Relationship with Cigar

(Written for Paulo Coelho’s Blog)

Kings matters less than subjects
Angels are subdued by beauty
Beasts burst into tears
When a rose awakes in morning
But the nectar goes to humming birds

Even after I have drink the Ayahuasca
I wasn’t able to see the Light in utter darkness
I walked on the bank of a river
In the season of daffodils
But the river never accepted my advances

I met a crouching tiger –
Outside his dwellings
I ran away
For I have forgotten the Art of Fighting!

Honey in my cup tastes like soap
Perhaps, my neighbors’ bear loves it that way

Why do I have to write Her Name?
If that has to vanish in thin air

2012-03-19

Devil Dreaming in the Year of Dragon

Devil Dreaming in the Year of Dragon 

Requesting angel to eat out of your hands

Begging to listen to what your heartbeat says

To waste time on a lost soul

The embassy has forgotten its people

Mastering the art of suffering

By mocking yourself

Annihilating life from her roots

With a gun of water

Fire of Hell has lost its color

For, the death is not an escape anymore

Devotee is losing his courage

Amid the question of killing

The echoes, Earnest once heard

And Kafka once whispered

I killed a hyena living afar

And told lion

That he is the greatest

I lend a musketeer my sword

To put a face

Behind the Mask

When Snow White was weeping

I turned her tears into ice

When Aschenputtel needed a glass shoe

My magic wand created a Prince

Who could not tell between wood and glass

French weren't retreated due to opponents

But, I put the fear of Victory in them

Justice was a fairy

I lured her into a lucid dream

Of being the Goddess of Everything

And I told everyone

That I am their Ruler

While watching my disciples at work

Upon the Hour of the Devil

I vociferated, "Six, Six, Six!"

2012-04-08

My Inspiration

Julie and Julia inspired me to write this blog; I love both Amy Adams and Meryl Streep. They have done splendid job in the movie.

The Lonely Ant’s Journey

The Lonely Ant’s Journey

Walking on the wall
Of seasons and loneliness
In the shadow of yellow leaves
And through the sunlight of December’s afternoon
Reaching the summit of Love

In pangs of pain
Forming the sacrifice of youth
And clinching the Cup of Socrates
To die among the martyrs
To reach one’s doom
Without fears and gloom
And fulfilling one’s nightmare
The bloodshed
That leaves no one spear

12-01-02

Waking up inside Cage

Waking up inside Cage

My inner wolf cried: here came the boy!

Come to me, my brethren

I've lost all the sheep

In the Vortex of Youth

When I was told: don't lie!

I told mud you are beautiful

Because narcissus is blooming

In your Shadow of Virginity

You forget all of your promises

That you done on prom night

You ran away with a criminal

As if that would cast you free

Wells of vine were changed into water

Water was changed into red blood

Blood altered into dark night

Full of tears, despair and sins

2012-04-01

Runic Script

In stanza 157 of Hávamál, the runes are attributed with the power to bring that which is dead to life. In this stanza, Odin recounts a spell:

Þat kann ek it tolfta,

ef ek sé á tré uppi

váfa virgilná,:

svá ek ríst ok í rúnum fák,

at sá gengr gumi

ok mælir við mik.^[1]

I know a twelfth one if I see,

up in a tree,

a dangling corpse in a noose,

I can so carve and color the runes,

that the man walks
And talks with me.^[2]

In Norse mythology, the runic alphabet is attested to a divine origin (Old Norse: reginkunnr). This is attested as early as on the Noleby Runestone from around 600 AD that reads Runo fahi raginakundo toj[e'k]a..., meaning "I prepare the suitable divine rune ..."^[3] and in an attestation from the 9th century on the Sparlösa Runestone which reads Ok rað runaR þaR rægi[n]kundu, meaning "And interpret the runes of divine origin".^[4] More notably, in the Poetic Edda poem Hávamál, Stanza 80, the runes are also described as reginkunnr:

Þat er þá reynt,

er þú að rúnum spyrr

inum reginkunnum,

þeim er gerðu ginnregin

ok fáði fimbulþulr,

þá hefir hann bazt, ef hann þegir.^[5]

That is now proved,

what you asked of the runes,

of the potent famous ones,

which the great gods made,

and the mighty sage stained,

that it is best for him if he stays silent.^[6]

The poem Hávamál explains that the originator of the runes was the major god Odin. Stanza 138 describes how Odin received the runes through self-sacrifice:

Veit ek at ek hekk vindga meiði a

netr allar nío,

geiri vndaþr ok gefinn Oðni,

sialfr sialfom mer,

a þeim meiþi, er mangi veit, hvers hann af rótom renn.  

I know that I hung on a windy tree

nine long nights,

wounded with a spear, dedicated to Odin,

myself to myself,

on that tree of which no man knows from where its roots run.^[7]

In stanza 139, Odin continues:

Við hleifi mik seldo ne viþ hornigi,

nysta ek niþr,

nam ek vp rvnar,

opandi nam,

fell ek aptr þaðan.

No bread did they give me nor a drink from a horn,

downwards I peered;

I took up the runes,

screaming I took them,

then I fell back from there.^[7b]

Detail of the Elder Futhark inscription on a replica of one of the 5th century AD Golden Horns of Gallehus found in Denmark

This passage has been interpreted as a mythical representation of shamanic initial ritual in which the initiate must undergo a physical trial in order to receive mystic widsom.^[8]

[Untitled]

[Untitled]

At dawn, the birds

Try to convince me

That their voice

Is but beautiful

At noon, the silence

Shows its color:

Reveals secret of my Soul

My ears can hear my heart

At evening, the sunset

With its red-orange flavor—

(The feeling of Your Lips)

Makes me vibrating

At night, tears of blood

Bleed from my eyes

The Time does not need

A black-hole to be stopped

2010-07-30