Haiku 55An experiment at combining Haiku, a 55 Word Story and a 55 Word Zen Koan.

Unreal met real. You
cross my heart, I thread thy wounds-
Portal shuts. The Fall.

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The spider advanced menacingly, jeered, and cocooned shut a hapless ant for dinner. The silky web glistened strangely in the fluorescent light. A nearby ant-colony despaired.

She giggled. Cuteness.

She pulled her lighter out, lit a Navy Cut and moved the flame. Web, Spider, Dinner all transmogrified into a brilliant fireball.

She giggled again.

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Angelic smile, tears
Red rose, fears, so many years-
Hot days of Sehnsucht.

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Cafe Frappe served with a straw. Too many a fake smile, meaningless dance and worthless prophecy. Blue skies, white clouds. Monday bloody monday.

He gazed at the short straw. If he didn't think it short, he would be denying fact. If he thought it short, he opposed reality. What then, did he tell the waiter?

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Frozen, a raven.
Kissed south, found northern heaven-
Annihilation.

Full Moon Tonight

In a Distant Echo,
A Fading Howl.
Full Moon Tonight,
Madness and Fright.

You promised.
You lied.
The colour sucked
From my Eyes.
World,
Now in Black and White.

A punch
A careless whisper
Souls , Anathema they,
Yet Intricately Conjugate.
Warriors them,
Usually Lost, but sometimes Found.

In a Distant Echo,
A Fading Howl.
Full Moon Tonight,
Sheer Madness, Familiar fright.

Demonic Reflection
Off Shards of Glass
Splattered; with
Blood and Bone.
Bone. Bone without Flesh.
Reopened a Scar
Tore some Flesh
Peeped a little. Maybe,
A bit more than I ought.
I revved.
Fuel she injected, An engine roared.
Burnt... Sealed shut the scar.
Yet again.
And into the blue inverted chasm, I soared...

In your Distant Echo ,
My Fading Howl.
Full Moon Tonight, Not Pale Moonlight
My Madness, your Fright.

Brain, Glimpses Of A Cloister

Brain, Outer Cloister

A low tide ebbs the delicately woven fabric of our thoughts in times of crises. Fascinating though it is to observe as a sniper, the way your mind reacts to this excessive excitation of neurons, and flashes of nerve impulses... It's quite nice that something functions on a hardware level and it doesn't know what difference it makes to the big picture... An unconsciously matched impedance of biological hardware gives rise to a conscious flow of thoughts... Who woulda ever thought that we'd turn out to be biological computers one day? That one day, this artificial intelligence would encompass everything, and become the defacto standard for thought... So what then was natural intelligence (or benchmark) before humans were created? Along similar lines, will computers and their clusters dominate the future and wipe out human intelligence to become the de-facto standard for intelligence in the future? Where do we go from there? After all history has always been the story of a successful form of life and thought wiping out less capable intelligence, and conquering new realms...

Everything that has a beginning has an end... We too, will be obsolete in our construction one day... And will be replaced...

/* Sips Tea, Drags deep. */

It'd be nice to have a sneak peek at What form of intelligence will replace the newer forms...? But that's a long way to go. There is a possibility that the universe also follows Darwin's Theory of Evolution... But on incomprehensible time scales... The universe is doing everything in it's power to preserve itself... And we are just partly sober humans, unaware of even trying to grab the bigger picture...

/* Senses burning in throat, Flicks cig away. */

I'd love to hear a Bihari's take on all this. He'd just say - "Ghanta. Chupchaap sutta maar aur hamko bhi maarne de. Tu kya hilake chodu existence existence bol raha hai be saale?" LMAO! Howlarious!

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Brain, Inner Cloister


/* Stops walking, yawns, scratches head, scratches bum in the hope of comprehending life, kicks stone, looks around, yawns again. */

CHETTTAAAAA!! ORU CHAYA, ORU KING!!!

/* Lights cig, takes a drag. Smiles. */

We have so many languages whose existence we irrevocably cannot deny. A shortcoming in language is that we need to use words to communicate ideas and thoughts. Is it possible to develop a system of communicating images and flowing scenes from a memory without using words. Is it even possible to consider the idea of sustaining a throughput of visuals without using metaphors and idioms, without using words. Thoughts work on different levels...

/* Drags */

Words are a layer of deception used to confuse the thoughts of mankind...

/* Realization dawns. Glass of Tea empty. Orders one more. */

A better superior, all-effective, exceeding capacities of the predecessor... A new non-racist form of thought transfer, a tandem of simultaneity... The best way of doing so might be to use a language of 3D constructs, and each construct can resemble a pattern. And the shape of the construct must vary depending on the line of thought, the idea, the logic and the underlying purpose.

/* Sensation of a distant voice calling out my name. */

Enter Girlfriend - "HIEEEEEEEE!!!"

/* Thought process interrupted and disoriented. Thoroughly. */

Art Critic Kathe...

Read about somebody else's review of "Rang De Basanti"... Not sure bout the gender though, but he/she calls him/herself an art-critic... Go read... And see a TRUE CRITIC'S reaction... Balls to him/her.

Step 1 : Read Dumbfuck's Post.

Step 1 : Read Nonedone's Posts... "Artistic Cowardice" and "Spare me the bullshit."

Step 1 : Read below lines. These are my comments :-

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@Akshaya, Abhishek : If you walked away from the theater sensing some resemblence to real life, you'll see the worth of the movie... If you didn't, then sadly, you've not seen life. You've been too protected. (rich spoilt v=brats perhaps). Art has always been about portrayal of reality. Your definition of art seems too skewed. You oughta go live out life on your own and not just say some words lambasting something you don't see from the common man's perspective.

@Abhishek : You seem too self-righteous. I'll agree with you to keep your heart.

@Nonedone : Totally agree with you dude...

@Akshaya : I'm sure you don't welcome such comments, so I won't come back. As far as your review is concerned, well... It can Kiss My Ass...

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And yes, if my comment doesn't conform to your standards, you can feel free to delete it...

I'm gonna link to your post on my blog, and let people have a look at your self-righteous view... A few "Art Critics" check my blog anyways...

LMAO!!

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PS : Damn you Nonedone, I've gotten addicted to the word "Dumbfuck" now... Hehehe... ;-)

Another PS : All steps are labelled no. 1 because they are equally important to understand the topic of discussion.

PS, Yet Again : This female is not fit to be an Art-Critic let alone deserve the noble position of a fart critic... Which of course, I am... Heh.

Crappiram's Mixture - Volume 2

Stained glass
broke
Life declutched
I became
free
in two moments
Fields of wheat
focused
I touched green grass
I smiled
E=mc2
I flew.
And I live again.

---

A fifth ace in the pack. Mutable.
The jokes, they waited for a suitable time to transform.
Biding their time.
The hidden ones are among us.
Everywhere...

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EDIT : THE FRENCH LINES BELOW ARE NOT MY CREATION... THEY WERE WRITTEN BY BIG BOSS'S FRIEND, NAME UNKNOWN...

La vie est une rose dont chaque pétale est une illusion et shaque épigne une réalite...

Pourquoi faire simple quand on peut faire compliqué.

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Ciploxed ravage
Mildly savage
Ravishing figurine,
A pons asifera,
Vitrified

You pollute my lush green skies
I live out my acrid life
My descendents, genetically mutated
No clear vision...
How much must one man do...?

A decay of purity
A clenched victory
But for who?
What then is the root to my equation?
Where then is my god?