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[Jun. 4th, 2007|06:44 pm] |
[prostitute]
wakes up early in the morning,
to pluck basil leaves & chrysanthemums,
to deify her god and keep him safe,
from harm and perdition,
wakes up everybody from stupor,
but they remain dazed, she can't,
for the salt in the curry,
to be duly packed in the lunch-boxes,
she goes to work too,
she's the liberated woman,
she has an individuated working identity,
work with the home in mind,
with their tea-time snacks in mind,
she comes home tired,
but he comes home tired,
her body aches,
his legs need pressing,
a refreshing tea with BBC will do,
a grand dinner,
they lick their fingers,
and she picks at the leftovers,
she's been waiting for this,
put the children to sleep,
to release some oxytocin,
he's ravenous still,
she hopes nerves will tingle,
he grabs and pushes her on the bed,
almost rips off her nightgown,
a few thrusts is all he has heart for,
he rolls over to fall asleep,
forgetting to pay her.
(02/08/2002)
© Vijay Menon a.k.a. Oxytoxic
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[Jun. 4th, 2007|06:44 pm] |
[rain train]
the windows mist up on my side,
with fine beads and meanders on his,
opened it, the sweet-rotten breeze,
the sky rumbled didactically,
"you ought to be afraid of me !",
only if you were'nt so musical,
the leaves and branches shimmer,
like flamenco dancers, sensually,
as the cold, needle droplets pelt,
rain bullets riddle the tarmac,
as the quiet rivers flow alongside,
a hurried phone call with instructions,
to keep the house dry, the soul, maybe not,
an incongruent face scoffs under an umbrella,
her shopping plans for the day are spoilt,
a drenched raincoat rushes home from work,
for his hot tea and biscuits,
lightening streaks against the azure sky,
like a frayed wire on the muse's canvas,
the birds shift perches, and all look like, wet crows ?
the white and light chocolate mutt,
comtemplates his paw and looks blankly at nothing,
as dogs and humans often do,
can anything be so respiteful these days,
the way it rained today.
(29/07/2002)
© Vijay Menon a.k.a. Oxytoxic |
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[Jun. 4th, 2007|06:42 pm] |
[whats the matter with me]
a recurring bad-dream,
wincing at my mediocrity,
blaming my benevolent ghosts,
"this is not what life is!"
then, what is ?
pandering to filial expectations,
chasing the stars in the comfort zone,
relentlessly,
yes! for "if at first you don't succeed",
"try, try again!",
and once you've got "it",
keep trying,
to wear your smiles till your lips ache,
the glow in your eyes,
ought to be quintessentially joyous,
soaking your fated karma,
the glib in your talk,
reeking of all-pervasive knowhow,
in moments of solitude,
gleefully rub in the casteist innuendo,
while celebrating your liberation,
through your loins,
dogma should always be kept happy,
so should dogpa and the rest,
the illusion of happiness,
is cheap to maintain,
just drub your dreaming ego,
shop for reasonable charms,
and position yourself,
right behind that wall of contentment,
there you have it,
the formula for success,
oh! and another thing!
stop writing poetry.
(28/07/2002)
© Vijay Menon a.k.a. Oxytoxic |
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[Jun. 4th, 2007|06:40 pm] |
[the dead poet's manifesto]
so do commas, semicolons; and fullstops.
and boneless buts and ifs
critics: murderers incognito
a pen without ink
an ignorant perusal
a submissive appreciation
singe'ing acid
poetry and prose: incestuous
prose
succulent in mediocrity
inveigling verbose bestseller
poetry:
dead.
(15/08/1997)
© Vijay Menon a.k.a. Oxytoxic |
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[Jun. 4th, 2007|06:37 pm] |
[redemption or so it seems]
i imagine an attempt,
to slash my wrist,
to test my fear,
i let myself bleed,
bleed, bleed, bleed,
until,
i faint into consciousness,
to be surrounded, by a blown-up & rusty, shrapnel-crusted well,
the challenging murk tickling my nose,
humoring me to stay,
my scalding hot tears,
pity me,
redden my eyes,
go on,
see a different reality,
rescue yourself from self-injected empathy.
(18/08/1997)
© Vijay Menon a.k.a. Oxytoxic |
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[Jun. 4th, 2007|06:36 pm] |
[post-seista anger]
wake up morosely,
no use resorting to the defence of ignorance,
in the face of childish mischeif,
that is gross but justified,
the mocking laughter,
duplicates the devil's,
shatters my fragile ego,
the shards embed in my skin,
and the sores pout noncommittaly,
the surging adrenalin demands action,
fight or flee,
neither.
(15/08/1997)
© Vijay Menon a.k.a. Oxytoxic |
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[Jun. 4th, 2007|06:30 pm] |
[palette sky]
they call it choice,
this wannabe society is safe,
those who want to be themselves are not,
it's difficult, to experiment without pointed parameters,
you start out in the beginning, as pure as plague,
on the way, you learn, to brush the dust off your collars,
to disregard it, you educate yourself,
learn the ropes of the scope of survival,
throttle the accelerator in your rush,
to join the poisoned pantomime, you realize you're good,
so good, with the cloak and dagger,
the hunters alarmingly outnumber the prey,
every drop of blood is needed, to paint the town,
in the shades of apocalypse, you don't see it, but,
your sleeves have gravy on them,
your shirt buttons are rusted,
your toes have corns and heels calluses,
you're ugly.
(11/09/1997)
© Vijay Menon a.k.a. Oxytoxic |
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[Jun. 4th, 2007|06:30 pm] |
[pooh,a poet]
this shall not be quenching of my thirst,
nor overindulgence,
merely routine introspection,
time-killer!
you don't have to call me that again and again,
i open the door in between,
assimilate the mentholated breeze,
as well as the carrion stench,
my fellows are dressed appropriately,
the hipness of tradition,
the commonality of mordernity,
a gaunt four-eyed face looks offended,
a rusty typewriter chokes on a idiom,
and splutters a miscegenic metaphor (whatever that means),
there are flashlights focussing,
on the inane and insane,
the atmosphere is electrically eclectic,
there is a search for organo-synthetic words,
to present society in palatable verse,
cocaine in gunny bags.
(01/09/1997)
© Vijay Menon a.k.a. Oxytoxic
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[Jun. 4th, 2007|06:22 pm] |
hit me on that, to be ruthless not to give alms,
to a beggar who was dead,
poke my eyes out, for vicariously enjoying the sight,
of a rag-picker dancing in the rain,
fill my ears with molten wax, for sceaming noiselessly,
at the silence of a traffic jam,
strip me of my patterned shorts, for being rude,
to that kind and solicitious prostitute,
madden me, so that my murdering my instinct,
may seem more fashionable,
throw away that useless heater, for i shall drink my conceit,
and wear someone else's furs, to survive.
(03/07/1997)
© Vijay Menon a.k.a. Oxytoxic
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[Jun. 4th, 2007|06:22 pm] |
[noise/silence]
the bus horn honks,
the loud woman makes decibel attacks,
the fire-brigade siren screeches,
the lunatic wolf howls,
the loudspeaker makes a statement,
he shouts, she shouts back, they cry,
others noisily give advice,
the burglar alarm goes off,
and slam hits the car,
the angry elephant trumpets,
and furious tiger growls,
as the submissive traffic jam,
screams only in inches,
while i stand in the mumbling, grumbling terminus,
with silence shattering silence, inside my head.
(20/09/1996)
© Vijay Menon a.k.a. Oxytoxic |
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[Jun. 4th, 2007|06:15 pm] |
he peeps at me impishly, while ignorantly and irreverantly,
wading through salman rushdie's beard,
whoever heard of a cockroach literateur;
fascinated? ugh! well,maybe if i were to study him in a different light,
since creatures such as roaches are so commonplace,
they are destined to remain the shadows that they are,
mahogany wings, bristly legs and defiling antennae,
certainly don't inspire beauty;
they come across more like intrusive psychoanalysts,
caring not for your privacy but more for their thesis,
on "the entomological approach to understanding human behaviour",
such intelligent creatures, of course,
need food for thought,
so don't be surprised the next time you see him in your larder,
searching for inspiration in leftover curry,
disgusted, huh? so am i!
i reach out for madhuri dixit reaching out for me,
roll her into a club and crashland her,
on his majesty,the king of the crevices,
his creamish blood splatters madhuri's laboriously cosmeticized face,
(is she frowning or are they crinkles on the celluloid mag's glossy cover?)
i gloat over my triumph, and think mirthfully of the fool who said, "they will be the only ones to survive a nuclear holocaust",
wait! maybe i'm the fool, he emerges from another crack, resurrected...
(27/03/1996)
© Vijay Menon a.k.a. Oxytoxic |
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[Jun. 4th, 2007|06:15 pm] |
boredom like fast-forwarded monotony creeps on me;
i sit unhearing of the frenetic jazz presenting itself from the battered stereo;
unseeing of the sophisticate abstractions taking their positions on the wall;
unfeeling, of the nagging pinch of existence and it's follies;
all the intensity melting in the heat of a power-cut;
sit there unfurling curly wisps of tobacco puffing them down the abyss of hollowness within;
whence my revelationless reverie is diluted by the flavour of ink dubbed as nicotine.
(03/04/1996)
© Vijay Menon a.k.a. Oxytoxic |
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[Jun. 4th, 2007|06:06 pm] |
[innocence]
the eyes see,
but do not see,
the passion of life consummated,
the days go by, days?
or just worthless numbers on the wall,
the birds returning home at sunset,
no longer evoke any sentiment,
but beckoning stilletoed heels do,
the knives waiting around the corner,
terrify no more,
i'm just used to the million knives embedded
in my soul,
the jungle of faces,
cruel, impassive, unhappy,
all masks, except for one,
the soft, selfless child's,
like a radiant and refreshing ray of light,
that kills the greenish mould on the wall,
and shines forth from the tiniest crack,
the most powerful emotion, innocence.
(20/01/1996)
© Vijay Menon a.k.a. Oxytoxic |
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[Jun. 4th, 2007|05:50 pm] |
[subway dream]
there are famous but anonymous souls,
hurtling across the railway tracks,
at breakneck speeds,
they hav'nt got the tickets,
to rise up to the human world,
to resurrect their past glory,
from glossy coffee-table books.
(this poem was inspired by the Calcutta metro railway)
(not dated)
© Vijay Menon a.k.a. Oxytoxic |
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