Category Archives: the apocalyptic real

Parting is such sweet sorrow

It really is…….  Hidden somewhere in the bittersweet twang of forsaking the familiar and comforting, is a hint of pungent hope, mixed with the uncanny aftertaste of curiosity. It is difficult to catch – this apprehension that comes with leaving … Continue reading

Posted in ananth, beauty, Bombay, City, community, I Quote, I want to ride my bicycle, It is written, kaha gaye woh din, nasha, nostalgia, picture abhi baaki hain mere dost, the apocalyptic real, traffic, vignettes | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Protected: aranya #9: and catastrophe

There is no excerpt because this is a protected post.

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

Ilham

I can turn down the volume Not switch off the tape recorder It starts somewhere deep In the middle, mid-pant A kind of dull throbbing Reminding you of you Incessant drone, like a shruti peti A glass barrier, that distorts … Continue reading

Posted in #poemaday, beauty, Could be verse, epiphany, poetry, the apocalyptic real | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

Beginnings

They passed their misery around And fueled it Each affirmation was a drop Of life in the seed’s turning Into stem There was no drama As it floundered through Into the the day The most intimate impulse As tune is to … Continue reading

Posted in #poemaday, angryfix, epiphany, five words, Music, One Bad Day, poetry, the apocalyptic real, Uncategorized, vignettes, why? | Leave a comment

portrait

There’s something about him – the way he conducted himself. No. Conducted is the wrong word. His demeanour is a stage without a curtain. really. There is no membrane. Nothing that complicates his serious play with the system. (haha. system … Continue reading

Posted in #poemaday, ananth, angryfix, Atyachar, community, Could be verse, It is written, One Bad Day, the apocalyptic real, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

ethnography

we are mirrors. water. grass. The tip that grazes an ecstatic breeze is the root. and the fortress lies in its foundations. every speck of the vision is an explosion of our own shadows. we nod cinematically; in hypnotic roam … Continue reading

Posted in #poemaday, angryfix, community, Could be verse, epiphany, I Quote, I want to ride my bicycle, It is written, middle class mithya, poetry, the apocalyptic real, Uncategorized | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

Meenakshi

Fish eyes. like a leaf. stillgreen. lithe. imploring. a misty morning caught in a gaze. watching. the secret in their eyes. I’m in the great hall. It’s the sorting . A feather falls from the ceiling and gets submerged in … Continue reading

Posted in beauty, Bombay, City, Could be verse, epiphany, Gothamisation, I Quote, It is written, Lou, nasha, night, nostalgia, picture abhi baaki hain mere dost, the apocalyptic real, why? | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment