Wednesday, 6 June 2007

In dusty corners of old forgotten attics where memories and broken nostalgia mingle to hate our existence where we met many years ago when the dirt was less but still considerable where we made erotic gestures like batting eyelids and other things there I know you wait endlessly for me but I don’t have the courage to return…

In the cool riverside breeze of the last millennium with gothic pillars and white magnificence there I know you also wait for me to gaze at sinking horizons in the calm serenity of renewed vigour and youth for I know that the river is older than our love…

In the sublime snowscapes of old half-remembered dreams in which snowball fights decided the winner or loser of an unequal match where both parties wanted to make utter hatred in cozy log cabins and blue tinged green veined red cheeks looked like luscious apples…

In the myopic vision of many lost generations who believed that love was immortal splendid sad but did not know how to translate this and got married got disillusioned had children who also did the same whose initial grand visions ended in sordid divorce and they knew not the scope of true love…

In the universe of our many delusions only one thing do I know with certainty that I have loved and my love was true and so did you and we wait for eternity to end so that we can reunite for this bitter joy is what sustains us this never being together this eternal anticipation and constricted feeling at the same time liberating…

Thus ends the saga and thus begins it for in our end lies our beginning and we shall meet in those sepia attics and the whiteness until universal darkness shall engulf us in a different understanding
and still may we love…

20 comments:

ushmi said...

it is rather good...but who is it about, eh?

Arse Poetica said...

The imagination is Queen, just like consumer is King...dear Ushmi.

babelfish said...

ei rather good is understatement. i ask not the why and whos, i only say i like. wots.

babelfish said...

achha i see i've made the i wike comment previously. but i had nothing more intelligent to say. hoom. now you see why i'm usually too lazy to comment :(

Arse Poetica said...

Babelfish I wuv thee for thy babel

Elendil said...

Fuck. Marry me.

Elendil said...

It is very rarely that I am lost for words, this is one such time...

Arse Poetica said...

Thank you for the offer.I decline.Remember George Bernard Shaw and the children?
Lol.
Thanks for the spichlessness.

Opaline said...

This is giving me the same feeling as Bonolata Sen and "silent upon a peak in darien". Very old roses and daarchini and old silk quilted blankets.

Arse Poetica said...

Ah Srin,Banalata Sen.But I guess you get the atmosphere right.Not intentionally Banalata-ish, I think-more specific,no?

oliver said...

wow.

and you tell me i write well!

Arse Poetica said...

Mandy,you don't write well.
You write brilliantly.

Elendil said...

I'll risk it. Ps: Who's Shaw and who's the prostitute? :P

Arse Poetica said...

I shall not give you the benefit of the doubt.

Bhooter Raja said...

Class 9 or 10 Concise Biology, I think is the source of this story.

Arse Poetica said...

Hehehe.And some more.

Elendil said...

Re reading this was a pleasure. This has to be one of your best ever blog posts.

Fuck. Marry me.

Anurima. said...

ditto prayag. this one stays with me. in silence.

AUROBOROS banerjee said...

man is, by virtue of the primordial traits in his nature, fallible.

prone to vagaries of conceit, compulsive illusions, jaundiced visions and vainglory.

this goes beyond all recognizable( read. human) inconsequentialities, and personally excusable inferiorities.


way to go, reminding us all of the explicit mortality of whatever we strive to create from now on....humbling, very humbling.

AUROBOROS banerjee said...

i second prayag, as well.