Author Archives: teevramadhyam

About teevramadhyam

'I became insane with long intervals of horrible sanity' -Poe

aranya #12: Rendezvous

Under a rectangle of moonlight Qi and Kaththi sit on a mat of leaves Stick falls on stone an eye implores two silences speak Kaththi stiffens nods quietly leaves

Posted in aranya, Could be verse, nasha, nature, night, poetry, Prosepoetry, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

aranya #11: union

What the forest saw: notes cascade into each other, like the sky dripping into the forest, in a waterfall of desire. And born out of the union is the language of the trees. birds catch it in their beaks, and … Continue reading

Posted in aranya, beauty, Could be verse, epiphany, forest, night, Prosepoetry | Tagged , , | 1 Comment

A kind of home

What is a home? Where you can lay your thoughts to rest. One by one. Like folded clothes. Where you can smoothen out the edges of the day’s dog eared pages. And pretend like you are whole again. Where compassion … Continue reading

Posted in angryfix, Could be verse, One Bad Day, Prosepoetry, why? | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

‘I’ll tell you all the news

the ocean froths In the empty ghada a Shrill whisper rises  Like piss in the stream  The fawda picks away at the clod Darknesses converge  Upon the decaying carcasses  The dead stink  Louder than blasphemies  In the sacred chamber  And time,  … Continue reading

Posted in #poemaday, Atyachar, community, Could be verse, Gothamisation, hmmm, I want to ride my bicycle, It is written, middle class mithya, night, One Bad Day, picture abhi baaki hain mere dost, poetry, why? | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

aranya #10: the conference of dogs

“…The sun was still orange then” he murmured. the forest, of old, glistened through his eyes. his dappled ashen beard shimmering gently in the breeze. “This was before the world knew humility, before humans knew the meaning of violence. I … Continue reading

Posted in ananth, aranya, beauty, Could be verse, epiphany, forest, nostalgia, picture abhi baaki hain mere dost, poetry, Prosepoetry | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

lust

the epiphany of flight a congress of feathers the hesitantly rising morning sun untethered mind muslin skin perforated silences guttural cackle of bone river of undulating flesh caressing the stain tongue, breath, fume burning forest of thoughts two becomes one … Continue reading

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aranya #9: and catastrophe

The trees understood it first. but they were ancient. their messages passed slowly. antibodies had started to kick in. it was night at day. a storm in a bottle. the second coming. the apocalypse. the end of the universe as … Continue reading

Posted in aranya, forest, Gothamisation, One Bad Day, poetry, Prosepoetry, the apocalyptic real, why? | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment