ചെറു കഥ : മുഖമുദ്രകൾ

ഉണരുമ്പോൾ ആദ്യമായി കാണുന്ന മുഖം അത് എപ്പോഴും പ്രധാനമാണ്. അത് നായക്കും മനുഷ്യനും ഒരു പോലെ തന്നെ. ഒരു തെരുവ് നായയുടെ  രൗദ്രമായ  മുഖമാണ് ഇപ്പോൾ കാണുന്നത്. മുന്നിൽ ഒരു  മനുഷ്യൻ. അവിടെ സംശയത്തിന്റെ  നിഴലുകളില്ല. അവിടെ അയാളുടെ മനസിന്റെ പല താളങ്ങൾ തുടിച്ചു തുടങ്ങി.  അയാളെ തുറിച്ചു നോക്കുന്ന കുറെ നിമിഷങ്ങൾ. അയാളുടെ ശ്വാസം അളക്കുന്ന കുറെ  വിനാഴികകൾ. അവന്റെ ഉറക്കം അലോസരപ്പെടുത്തിയ അയാളുടെ യാത്ര  ദുഷ്കരമായിരുന്നു. അവർ കൂടെ ഉള്ള മനുഷ്യരെയും മൃഗങ്ങളെയും ശ്രദ്ധിച്ചില്ല. മുഖാമുഖം നിൽക്കുന്ന രണ്ടു  ഉന്മാദികൾ. അവരുടെ ഇടയിൽ ഊഷ്മാവ് ഉയർന്നു  താണുകൊണ്ടേയിരുന്നു. സമയത്തിന്റെ വിമുഖതയിൽ ആ മുഖങ്ങൾ പരസ്പരം മറന്നു. ഒരാളുടെ നിദ്ര മറ്റൊരാളുടെ മുദ്രയാകാം. അതുപോലെ ഒരാളുടെ മുദ്ര മറ്റൊരാളുടെ  നിദ്രയാകാം. ഇവിടെ ഇരുവരും അർഥങ്ങൾ അറിയാതെ അനർത്ഥങ്ങളിൽ അകന്നുപോയി. 

Poem : A Bridge to Buddha

Synonyms of life

Semblances of life

They lived through his name

They lived through his fame

He was nothing but a voyage

Void and visceral

Vestige and vibrant

He was a ray through riddles

Light was unfolding upon

He was a tide through turbulence

Ocean was spreading its waves

He carried the burdens of a myth

Unto his last days and lost ways

When he mirrored the mankind

Beyond the name, there is a substrate

Beyond the fame, there is a facade

Beneath the self, he echoes an ensemble

Lost in swarms and swamps

ചെറു കഥ : അഗ്നിപുഷ്പങ്ങളുടെ ദ്വീപ്

കണ്ണുനീർ ചാലുകളിൽ നിന്നും അരുവികളുണ്ടാവാം, പക്ഷെ ഇവിടെ ഉണ്ടായതു അഗ്നിപുഷ്പങ്ങളുടെ ഒരു ദ്വീപാണ്. അവിടെ കണ്ണീർ ഒഴുകിയത് ഒരു ഗുഹാ മുഖത്തേക്കായിരുന്നു. അനന്തരം അവിടെ  താഴുന്ന ഒരു ശിഥിലമായ ദ്വീപ്. അവിടുത്തെ തീരങ്ങളിൽ നെരിപ്പോടുകൾ പുകഞ്ഞു കൊണ്ടേയിരുന്നു. അവിടുത്തെ പക്ഷികളുടെ ചിറകുകളും ധൂമ സമ്മിശ്രങ്ങൾ ആയിരുന്നു. അവർ പൂമ്പാറ്റകളെ പോലെ പരാഗണം ചെയ്തു കൊണ്ടിരുന്നു. അവരുടെ ദേശാടനങ്ങൾ ധൂമ രഥങ്ങൾ ആയിരുന്നു. അവിടെ വീണ്ടും കണ്ണീർ വാതകങ്ങൾ വലയങ്ങൾ തീർത്തു. അവിടുത്തെ അശാന്തി അവരുടെ വിഷയം ആയിരുന്നില്ല. കാഴ്ചയുടെ സീമകൾ മാത്രമായിരുന്നു അവിടുത്തെ പ്രഹേളിക. 

Poem: Rip Van Winkle wakes up again!

I just arrived at my office desk

Time machines everywhere

Numbers dripping blood from everywhere

It is my sweat, sweet sweet and salt salt and saltier blood

that you simply call by the name ‘sweat’

It is a socket to my nervous circuitry

It is a simple sickle in my stomach

Time is dripping away like a bloody whirlpool

You need not be a world bank economist to know

That money circulates in time

How much ever you obfuscate money

How much ever you mystify money

How much ever mask time with data

And use the equations

Time is not money alone

Knowledge is not power alone

There is a world beyond equations

World of inequalities and perturbations

World of irrational imaginations

World of exponential series

World of irregular tropes

World of truncated silhouettes

World of trapezoidal memes

World of memes and nemesis

World of numismatics and bit coins

World of plagiarisms and forgery

World is not a whirlpool alone

It is simply a whirlwind

Can you imagine what will happen?

When Rip Van Winkle wakes up

Only to see that Don Quixote is ruling the roost

And to see the affair between a pelican and an albatross

There are many stories unfolding

In the polynomial times

Time is just a tyrant, in an ocean of solitaires

A Night after the Neurosis

It is a quite Sunday morning
It was a weird outing in the evening

We saw fuming ashes
We saw failed elephants
We heard the tales of fallen petals
We saw drifting continents of love and lust

It was a quite Sunday morning after a tepid Saturday night
I saw many men sulking under the weight of their own dreams
I heard many women lustfully languishing their tongue twisters

They were all eloquent
They were all spellbound
They were castrated

A Carnival in the oddest of the hours
A Caricature of my self and many other selves

Our pulses were travelling to Venus, Mars and Pluto
We were simmering in the heat of the market mongers
We were boiler plates to the typecasted experiments in human nature

Have you heard about Pavlov
Who embarked on an experiment to create machines in human mindset

Have you learned about Vygotsky
Who smiled at the smiling babies and loved their zones of evolution

Have you wept when Maykovsky shot dead himself
His poetry must have been boiling faster than his heart impulses

When I end up embracing the dichotomies of Mikhail Bakhtin
I know I have become a scoundrel, polyglot, a hedonist, pagan beast

When this hetroglossia unfolds and scarlet fevers engulf the nations
Fear of languages, life and all sort of glass house effects will prevail

Do you know the fissures in your palace
Do you know if it is made of marble, mosaic, or even a piece of pitch blend?

Now I know only about primordial stones and shadows
Who build pyramids and prisons in the middle of stone hinged and laggard society
Who are in multitudes, nameless, nation-less, necro-manic living echoes

I live their turquoise blue rings, silver palms, their mythical fear of tortoises
I dig a grave to heal their zest for anarchy, and to unwound their zeitgeist

Poem: Zen's Paradox

A Zen gazed at his mind
That looked at the glaciers
Umpteen levels deep

Zero, Zero by Zero, Zero raised to Zero
Questions surfaced above the volcanic erections

Language of the lost
In the lucky facades and gambling chariots

Neutrino by Neutrino, they neutralized every pinch of salt
Before they were salted and halted in the ionosphere

Curves and cubes, hyper cubes and hyper markets
Zen’s continued to gaze, at the pandemonium of choices
Chance, choice, will, illness, plea, randomness, chaos

You name it and graph it and store it in archives, if not dens
You love bearing fruits of fissures in the veins of my earth

And zen fell asleep wondering the warmth of the worms
In the deepest of the shallow slow time dilation of his heart to eye reveleations

Poem: Gradients of light

Gradients of light 

You may name them by colors 

Or by the shady love of the rouge beams 

I see them from heavens to hell 

Across their desire to feel 

The patterns of melting earth 

The tangents of galactic winds 

Languishing a destiny of tolerance 

They curled up towards poisoned lives 

Their unbound energy and infinite kindness 

Enough to skim through the treacherous ether 

They fail to reach the promised eternity 

Afraid to question the will of the masters 

As they are many and cobbled up 

They wander in crowded horizons 

As predictions make fuzzy end to all journeys 

Like the epics of the east and the proverbial holy lands 

With the hasty spikes they would weave a wrinkled leaf 

Naming as we see it now 

You may call it a sky of miseries

Infinite as it seem to eyes 

It is meager to the variations 

Myths of mountains, they always hid the sword 

Yet lightnings could burn the past 

Memoirs were etched in clouds 

As they floated in shapes so vivid 

Envious to the gods and demons alike

Poem: A Canine self

A wolf like he is 

Weaving heaviness on the dream hours

A night like grim he is

Wandering in the most manly hours

A beast like feverish he is
Feasting on the dust of us

A brown self with a red heart
Skin open and bleeding
Hair spinning over his pain
Misery like his eternal bones
Hissing streets where he belongs
Have a vein of blood and lust

Distant gaze and loving eyes

Wood like flesh he is
Wishing for a better life
For his canine self and others
He walked across his shadow and others too

Loving the dust of the dirty canals

Seldom he barks
Rarely he eats
Never he sleeps
Comes in my dreams and strange meetings

Still I wonder if he is a benign or a brute self
When I walk past his withering shades

Poem: My black rosary with red cross and daily bread

A gaze at uncertainty in your meal time
A wave of poverty in your surroundings
Which one will spoil your hunger?
What will kill your taste buds?

Nothing for sure can eat you
Unless you have eaten something else

A pinch of salt in your sweat
It refuses to give up its taste

A pale edge of your empty plate
It refuses to smile at your disposal

A moment when mind forgets to remember
A moment when mind remembers to forget

Matters of convenience and coincidence
All this happens in our daily life

We keep a bread for the day
Shrinks by the evening, rots by the fifth day
Filth by a weeks time, frozen in your next working day
Weeks after, you meet them all in your wounds

Your despair, your inertia, your pathos and vanity
All is known to submit to the season of red black winters
Same applies to my black rosary with red cross in my chest

Poem: My land is not lost!

A simple and humble land
With nimble and neighbouring clouds

We claim living by caves and valleys
We claim a hand of steel and clay beneath
We made Gods in love and puppets with life

Schooling through the dancing rice fields
I had its mist on my palm and past
Full of frogs and fiery green ponds
I loved its longing for water and wisdom

Little by little, my land is in shades
Larger by larger, my land is in smokes

We wear mask, inside and outside
We tear skies, by heights and might

Love and life, they keep my land alive
We are making life again, not in puppets or pets
This time in the name of our future lights!
We the children, know the love of the land

Poem: How to dine in a dizzy street

This season of idols and icons

When rains are random and revered

When I know evening is never even to all

When my wife went to hometown

I went for a passive dinner a little afar

A photo by giancarlo de luca: under non-commercial license.

Love for noise

Love for gaze

Love for traffic

Love for crowd

Random thoughts guided me in bumpy road

It welcomed my grumpy stumpy thoughts

I am silenced by fading shades of faces

I am stoned to the fuming walls

On every second eateries

People gazed away their dinner

Chewing them like muted cows of unknowns

On the other side walks

I found them swallowing like snakes too

I found them dumping their stomach 

They were jerks and ill in my terms

The first group was silent and detached

Food was a passage of their thoughts

The second was vocal and enchanted

Food was a just a passage for blood and flesh

Both the groups were so muted

Their shadows were more vocal and hungry

Everywhere I saw crowd and chaos

But all of them were silent and tied to an order

An order so invisible and invincible

At least by this stagnant moments of night

By the time I finished my dinner

I was hurrying home

To cook my brain once again

To feed some crows waiting somewhere

Poem: Young lady and the Sea

Young lady and the sea
They began a journey
In the crust of a daily mountain

Their own nimbus clouds
They soaked the earth of their own
Veins they bleed, Voids they loved
They were countless in roots and soils

Young lady walked across the shores
She could share her eyes for all the waves to come
Yet she stared at a beacon of men
Yet she stood for the caving emotions

Waves were mad and melodious
They found her young
In their wilderness they embraced her feet
Open skies where they meet
Olive leaves where they meet

Sea was full of naked weeds and algae
A gaze through the waters
A gale of the mirrors
They carved songs beyond
Ocean was waking up to the winds

Young lady and the sea
They kept their distance
At respectable ends
They traveled in parallels and prisms
They waved their hands
At miserable moments

Young lady and the sea
They loved one earth
Their songs and blood
They were ashes and clouds
Young lady and the sea

+Gokul Alex 

Poem: A Lizard in a Garden

A Lizard in a Garden

Fresh of life
Is not lost in wild
It comes near and dear
And a lizard is born in a garden

It turned coats and spells
It skinned by instincts
Aimed the walls
But never surmounted them
Born as a reptile
Brave as a snake
Primitive of the forms

And now it bridged my silence
And now it spaces my mist

Lizard in the greens
Lizard with black dotted skin
It just was a passer by
On my way to a Tuesday morning

Neither of us where bothered of each other
Like other humans too
We crossed each other, lest nor stared and frowned
We mean each other, least by life of our own
We make space for each other, in verticals of time

Lizard in a plastic garden
It was just as amused as I am
Seeing the lusty winds
Lure of money, Lost smiles

Lizard was a wizard, I know for sure
Time was his slave, Space was his circuit

Poem: A Farmer's Eyes and a Sailor's Shadow

A thorough yield
On a farm field of far east
It took me time to realize
How far I am to my far east of coast

Call of my weather
Call of my winds
I sailed further and farther
To my naked coasts
Naive songs, Nimble rains
Nile of rivers, Nascent clouds

Reaching this far
I kissed my earth
Ground of my grief
Glory of my ghosts
Glad is those leaves
However scanty they are

Cast is my shadows
No longer they hide
My colors and my figures
They cast numbers on stars
Measure their light
Scope my winters
Scale my summers
Scanty my rains
Scuttle I wish my springs

Now let me see my greens
Their leveling heights
Their leafy gaze
Their spiderly gesture
Their primordial texture
Now let me be slow
In company of my greens

#Poem by +Gokul Alex

Poem: Nature and Eye

What is to live a life without smile
When he gazed at me I just saw an eye to eye
I, and this world are seeing each other
Eye, and this world, both mutant, are seeing this world

In his oddities, in his feverishness
In his sunrise, in his suntan
In his summer, in his songs
I see a silent giant of past

From strange self to self estranged
I traverse a land of kites
From head to tail, waves alone

Where is to hide from this world of disguise
Where there is no fading meadows
Where there are no loving nests
Where there is only one abode left

Keeping an eye closer to chest
I ventured a stalking night
I pierced my own darkness and pains
I pitied my own thorns of flesh

How do they talk to my other
How do they eye my shadows
Do they really see my distant dreams

Nature and I, we see each other
Nature and I, we saw each other
Nature and I, we steal each other
Nature and I, we step in to each other
And that brings me home to the land of kites

+Gokul Alex