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Charles Fishman Bishnupada Ray Geraldine Green Rob Frail Tammy Nuzzo-Morgan Back to Issue 47_48 Back to Front Page |
Issue 47/48 : January - June 2010 : Volume 12 No 3/4
Addiction through the window I can see the truncated picture as still as the lull before a storm the leaves of the trees are apprehensive before the fall a bird flies out of the leaves in anxiety of everything falling the cocktail I have consumed is a heady mix of instinct, neurosis, charm and desire sublimated into a feeling of love that romantic song still rings in my heart cripples the head like an addiction the hangover I like to prolong as an effervescent dream repeated in my nightly change of personality split I remain ever after as the truncated picture before the fall. Last Meeting how much time do I have before you go away to your destiny? I cried to her at the most difficult moment of parting she laughed, uncertain of her destiny uncertain of making up her mind amidst the bounty of nature the sunlight made ways through porous clouds through the leaves and shades like the eyes of a visionary lost in a dream of horizons learning and unlearning existence there she stood with a stare perhaps a flickering flash of water crossed the eyeballs in lightning speed in that split second of a razor sharp emotion I saw my destiny I did not have the heart to save my soul from getting split lest I should lose her as an absurd dream. Reversal to hold it to feel it in the heart is the power and joy and the ideology of love right instinct sound judgement and a great amount of caution make up to that all consuming passion but the snail withdraws and shrinks back to its own world sensitive to the slightest hint of hostility the oblique reasoning of hatred and the self mutates into the other excess has a quick sobering effect the moral malaise at the top percolates down to the roots as imperceptibly as the advances of death the soul does not know when it loses its mate. Kolkata |