I am insane…
Krishna : He who sits
Krishna : As smoke blots the white fire,
Krishna : The Doors of Hell
Krishna : Religion is not his who too much fasts
I don’t walk on lines. I walk in between the lines, naked, haphazardly, undecidedly, purposelessly but I reach where I want to. They call me insane.
Black windows of paint
I scratched with my nails
I see others just like me
Why do they not try to escape?
They bring out the older ones
They point in my way
They come with a flash of light
And take my family away
And very later I have learned to
Accept some friends of ridicule
My whole existence is for your amusement
And that is why I’m here with you
To take you away with me.
- (the song ‘paper cuts’ by nirvana)
Sitting naked in my armchair on the edge of a tall building, glittering and gleaming sunrays shining into my eyes, lost in my own world of thoughts, I want to feel the wind on my face and the heat of the everlasting sun, I want to enjoy the fear of the invincible death and laugh at the immortality of human soul, getting closer to my end each moment I want to get the glimpse of my 21 year old life in a fraction of seconds and giggle at my helplessness to save this matter from getting perished away, I want to see the beauty of the world below and the madding crowd from the eyes having no ego at all at the moment, just a last and a little desire to fill the entire horizon in their aperture, life will never ever be that beautiful again, I want to sink in the depths of the deepest oceans, burn in the heat of the hottest stars and fall from the heights of the highest peaks, there is something between life and death, not just life and death only, which I want to experience in this moment, I want to be me just me.
Suppressing all the instruments of flesh,
Yet in his idle heart thinking on them,
Plays the inept and guilty hypocrite:
But he who, with strong body serving mind,
Gives up his mortal powers to worthy work,
Not seeking gain, Arjuna! such an one
Is honourable. Do thine allotted task!
Work is more excellent than idleness;
The body's life proceeds not, lacking work.
- bhagwadgita
0600 hours: Drenched with perspiration, lying on the cold floor of my closed room, naked, febrile, bruised, lacerated, soiled, masturbated, immersed in my own vomit, in a subconscious state of mind, heavily doped, suffocated, my arms weakened by phlebitis, the beats of pink Floyd running in my blood, numb, comfortably numb, I can hear no birds, no hymns or division bells, I cannot see the awakening sun shunning away the darkness of the night, I cannot feel the fragrance of the wet soil, I feel no pain, no weakness, just a beautiful and seductive feeling of virtual bliss, a feeling more pleasurable than an orgasm , I can see what I want to see, I can think what I want to think, I can hear what I want to hear, I can scream and cry without any inhibitions, they say that I am hallucinated but this hallucination is more real for me than their reality, the wall has cracks but I see none, I can only see the mountains, the birds, the roses, the meanders, all dancing with me in my tunes, everything is beautiful, splendid and glorious, everyone is my friend, no foes, I know no hatred, no vulgarity, no differences, I feel no gravity, I am flying, I have an answer to every question, I am floating in the river of my wisdom, I can dream what I feared to dream, I can achieve what once seemed impossible, I am rich, I am supreme, I am educated, I am what I am.
as clinging rust
Mars the bright mirror, as the womb surrounds
The babe unborn, so is the world of things
Foiled, soiled, enclosed in this desire of flesh.
The wise fall, caught in it; the unresting foe
It is of wisdom, wearing countless forms,
Fair but deceitful, subtle as a flame.
Sense, mind, and reason- these, O Kunti's Son!
Are booty for it; in its play with these
It maddens man, beguiling, blinding him
Cut then atwain
With sword of wisdom, Son of Bharata!
This doubt that binds thy heart-beats!
cleave the bond
Born of thy ignorance! Be bold and wise!
Give thyself to the field with me!
Arise!. - bhagwadgita
I love her, she loves me, I can bring the stars to her feet, I can rip my flesh at her disposal, she makes me feel significant, magnificent, I forget my egos, my consciousness, my apprehensions in her company, all my words seem to exhaust when she smiles, her love is sacred, knows no profanity, salvation seems to have been attained when I embrace her, all the revolts, both inner and outer, pacify when I lied naked with her beside the fireplace, I look different in her eyes, beautiful as I had never ever been, she can never betray me, she can think of nobody else when I am around, she is fearless when I hold her hand, she knows no shame when I kiss her and squeeze her into my arms in public, she gives her entire being into my custody keeping nothing for herself. I love her but I have to kill her… I killed her.
Are threefold, whereby men to ruin pass,-
The door of Lust, the door of Wrath, the door
Of Avarice. Let a man shun those three!
He who shall turn aside from entering
All those three gates of Narak, wendeth straight
To find his peace, and comes to Swarga's gate.
- bhagwadgita
I wander in the streets, starved but satiated, injured but healed, naked but clothed, lonely but contented and live but dead.
They call me insane. I laugh at them.
Or too much feasts, nor his who sleeps away
An idle mind; nor his who wears to waste
His strength in vigils. Nay, Arjuna! I call
That the true piety which most removes
Earth-aches and ills, where one is moderate
In eating and in resting, and in sport;
Measured in wish and act; sleeping betimes,
waking betimes for duty.
- bhagwadgita
2 comments:
Dear siddartha
It is the beginning of meaninglessness, collapse of the visible and a clear brush with the invisible and the vulnerable. It is the realisation of utter powerlessness of power discourses as well as the dawn of your own power. I am not clear about the choice of poems and translations of Gita that you have done. If that belogns purely to your own competence, it is the rise of sanity. At present, your world is under a paradigm shift. Just keep observing and keep writing
The kind of form you have chosen to present is not something that happens on the terrain of familiarity. One can be himself stranger to this form. At one time, it is different and at another time, it is a bit unbelievable. e.g.James Joyce was totally beyong any available forms of interpretation. Slowly and slowly, he could be comprehended. So, if anybody does not believe you, it has to be like that.Sansara is never fast enough for a soul. So, don't feel disappointed; it has to be like that. Keep writing and keep surprising.
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