31 December 2008

Today is 31st.

Hopped in to a tram (well they do still run on this side of the woods , you know) just to pacify the travel bug hit corner of my brain. Just to see what I could capture on a last day of the year . Along the way I could not help but pondering "Is it different from any other day?"

Anyhow, following is what I got.

In a way it might not make any sense at all , but on the other hand like an unexpected 3rd line of a otherwise puzzling haiku , it just might make all the sense .


We wait



For guadian angels.




For happy vallies




To see her blushed pink.

To see the glow in the Ding.

Dearth

What is Cold, but the absence of heat

What is gloom, but the absence of light

What silence but the absence of sound

What is death, but the absence of life

What is Black, but the absence of colors

What is evil, but the absence of good

Now comes the question

Is Happiness the absence of Grief

Or is misery the lack of Glee

Street performance..

I just stopped for a cup of coffee, because that is what but weary self was craving for. Then they started playing. An Impromptu concert.

They were a hideous looking crew , but it did not matter .

The Italian, on the Saxophone. The Filipino bassist was bit old school jazz. The black guy was a like a butterfly in a beehive (or vice verse actually) on the keyboard.

While life just happened around them, they played . But gradually life seemed happen to their tune.

The drummer, er let’s just say he was no RD….

Oh well....

25.12.2008. X mas morning .....Oh well.........

As mama would only know……

A Mother's intuition would tell, while sometimes just bein observant suffice.




Sometimes, advise





and even direct intervention is called for..........

Oninion

One doodle that can't be undid, homeskillet

Come Friday, Mr spok's teleported to planet weekend where things that you normally don't talk about back at "The Enterprise" happens . This weekend it was all Juno.

It all began with a chair.

You're a part time lover and a full time friend
The monkey on you're back is the latest trend

Here is the church and here is the steeple
We sure are cute for two ugly people

We both have shiny happy fits of rage
I want more fans, you want more stage

Growing up with a few bumps along the way

You are always trying to keep it real
I'm in love with how you feel

I kiss you on the brain in the shadow of a train
I kiss you all starry eyed, my body's swinging from side to side

The complications what we assume that are necessary

The pebbles forgive me, the trees forgive me
So why can't, you forgive me?

But still I don't see what anyone sees in anyone else .

Night sky............

You can’t beat the moonlight

Dawn's rays

twinkling disturbed Midnight shade

try hard

you can forget

But

lunar painted silver haze

over the ripples on the wise lake

It is a different tale

when you open your eyes

still it stay

like Arabica aftertaste

ensnare

sanity out of it's shell

and smack it dead

Mind left in a daze

Sunshine

Summer chimes

will soon fade

But

lunar painted silver haze

over the ripples on the wise lake

well that's a different tale

During my free time

I read papers

Rebuke at politicians

Analyse the global economy

Do my laundry

Drink pain tea, plenty

And creep beneath the familiar rock for shade

Madam Butterfly

Two sculptures this weekend

No1- Fsih

No2- Flying Frenchman

5 reasons for you to hate me less

I can do a decent sketch of you
With lines to show the boundaries
And the bareness transmuting
to solidity

I can enjoy both Rock & jazz
Sipping the random twirls
While catching a ride on the wordy whirls

I tend to put my heart on my sleeve
And open up my Eyl
Too often , too soon
I tell you

I tell a gag well
From set, with the crucial pauses
Right down to the perfect kill

I can swiftly craft a simple prose
With needed density and sage
yet looking pop

Sometimes it happens

With hopes bubbled up. Anticipation's pounding touching one's heart. Lenses cleaned up battery charged up. Went out. I thought I would stumble on that perfect shot . Real.Life. Drama.

But 4 hours later here I am sitting empty handed. Writing because I have to . Sometimes I write to remember . Sometimes to forget.

Well sometimes it happens.

208 aka Stripey

Let me introduce a friend of mine.

He is officially christened "208" . That is the number that was given to him at Singapore zoo's souvenir shop inventory.

He is very much like most of us, He thinks he is a typical Zebra, no different to the one grazing in the Kenyan Savanna . While only wilderness 208 knows is the natural looking surrounding of the Singapore zoo. He thinks he can relate to the pains and feelings of the common zebra.

At times when I talk about the ground situation in Muhamalai or Life in the free eastern province, I remember 208 and wander whether there is any difference between both of us.


Now he lives in Hongkong . Having done a bit of travelling around (even to Sri Lanka), he considers himself well travelled. Often talks about how things are different in the Savanna.

Guess it is a dangerous combination.

When I close my eyes………..

I shut my eyes to see

mirror dark water calm

formy surf wash away

the unsung song stuck in my heart

aglow in the lunar gleam

Butterfly fish scuttle

amidst the shadows the clouds make

Mermaid songs whiffed

feel cool on my face

After an eternity and an instant

I open my eyes

my mouth dry

yet my lips taste saline

A complete joke

Have you ever marveled how some things we presume and because many people assume the same thing ( generation after generation) , that ‘may be’, becomes almost a fact.

I am sure you would have read the nursery rhyme. Enjoyed it . And most probably even know by heart , the story of the egg. Who fell and cracked at the foot of a great wall. How the royal staff of a particular kingdom , had nothing better to do than to figure out a way to fix the situation. But to no avail .

While, even after almost half a life time later , I feel puzzled over the unconceivable concept of this VVIP of yolk & shell , I can not help but to chuckle at the paradox that , never in the prose does the author actually say that it was an egg.

Bad habits (Poem)

Yeah’ you heard me right
that is what I said .
Now, you ask me why ?
well that is my new bad habit
Now I swear
I know it is not nice
darling
But that is just the point
Bad habits are bad habits
are bad habits
give me a tick till I
put off this cigarette
As I was saying love
I was bored stiff
with my old ones
I fancied a new
No it ain’t passing phase
I stick to my habits
I'll tell you
Like the penchant to
stringing together words
in to peculiar sentences
breaking them at odd places
to make it appear
a prose
almost

23 mins (poem)

Yes it is
23 mins
exactly
From the time you get in to the train
Till we depart
And go on our own way
2 mins to call
And to find the right carriage
3 mins to talk about how our days were
Then 5 mins of silence
When I think of what to say
And when I allow you time to think
What to say
10 mins when you say how much you miss me
And your voice breaks
with tears, eyes swell
3 minutes for me to tell you , one day
It will be, the day
When I take you away
Until then we stay
This way
23 mins exactly

Past(poem)

Past is where
we were
Past is where
we are going to

Near Ferry Pier TST. Must be somebody special

Shadows

It is not always rain...........

konda couple

The chanting

Chance

Apparently there is a greater probability of you getting hit by a car while you cross the road to buy a lottery ticket.......than for you to win a lottery.

Reality TV (a poem)

Real people , they tell us
will eat cockroaches and worms , on the go
can survive for 28 days
on wild yam and soiled rain
and one shower
on Tuesdays

Real people , as it seems
will confess to many things
Spill out many fantasies
Abash themselves
for a five digit promise
to oohs and aahs of others
(while his lady tears)

Real people can
walk a tight rope if they are induced
in their pin stripe business suits
fall short
but it might be sanctioned
unless, otherwise Simon says

Them, real people
I tell you
are not like you and me

Really..

We have an agreement
My cat and I
She looks at me
Through her dreamy eyes
Wisdom unjustified
That’s what it is
It’s these times I can call her Puss
While we have our long chats
Commentaries
While we watch the tsunamis in wall street
On the tele
While duck roast settles slow in the belly
It’s these times I can call her Puss
Cause
When there are guests
She has to be called Mr Boots

Feeling a bit homesick.....sunset @ Habarana

Lucky seven .................. most of the time

Anglican church Nuwaraeliya.........

Evening Habarana

How to buy a camel

Look as if it’s the last thing on earth that could possibly interest you
Keep a straight face
Prod here and there for soundness
old injuries and scars
Check the teeth and the temperament
how well the Camel interacts with others
Especially horses
Breath ?
forget it
Remember he was created with a breath to keep you humble and mindful of hell
Oh yes
do not forget the feet
the more splayed the better
those spongy leather spatulas will need to take on rock sand and bog
Humps?
two are definitely better than one
avoid ones whose previous owner was a school teacher
I do not know why, but that’s the wisdom on the street
When you kick the shins , jump back & fast
Then make an offer
If somebody makes an pitch , flare your nostrils and laugh
loudly as you turn away
Don’t push it to the point of insult
bide your time
Did I mention to check the teeth?


Inspired by "Kingdom of Ten Thousand things"

Nanuoya 2

Nanuoya 1