Miyoko Shida Rigolo

I think it is the single most amazing thing I’ve seen yet. There might be science involved, may be art of balancing runs through her veins. But to master such a thing and then manifest the sort of creature one day dreams of; through sheer will, patience and years of practice poured into her art. Her effort seems a poetry in itself.

Masquerade

This is an illustration by Igor Morski, a Polish graphic designer and illustrator. I could relate to the illustration and the emotions it gave birth to were the same emotions I felt whilst writing the poem “Masquerade“.

Birds of Cage

This is an illustration by Igor Morski, a Polish graphic designer and illustrator. I could relate to the illustration and the emotions it gave birth to were the same emotions I felt whilst writing the poem “Birds of Cage“.

Birds of Cage

To have lost my sense of direction

To have lost my sense of will

Roaming around endlessly

To have been shaped to fill

I do not aim for stars or skies

Or seek some pastures green

I do not attempt to flee or fly

For a bird of cage I’ve been

A bird of cage – of sorrow –

No Great Escape left in me

I wish not to see the dawn or morrow

And there’s no place I’d rather be

I have retired from this marathon

With the desire running thin

For livelihood or success or money

For happiness or love of kin.

The Big Blur Theory

We often lie to ourselves about a-very many things. Sometimes it is the attention we desire; sometimes it is the affection we think we are being provided with (in abundance, if you like to escape reality too much). May be your spouse isn’t home because he/she is busy doing his/her day job. May be the decision you took about your life is entirely yours. May be you are very charitable and kind.  May be you get angry and flushed over small things. May be it is just a temporary struggle.

There also comes a time when the lies you’ve fed your brain with, exhaust. They simply become obsolete – way past the expiry date. It may not happen very often, it may be recurring or never even occur at all. But when it does happen, you are automatically re-plugged into reality. Suddenly you’re awake; and your senses act sharper than ever before; and your logical structure works better than most of the previous times. You pay attention to every detail, as much as becoming aware of the inhales and the exhales of your own self. It is then that you become aware of this empty space, an awful lot of empty space which you can’t seem to be able to fill. You realize that your conscience lies singled out in this empty space (when seen from the out-to-in perspective) and it is the empty space in your heart you yearn to fill (when seen from the in-to-out perspective).

Now why have I talked about at length about such a strange, not-too-common phenomenon? It is when you have reached here that your in-shock conscience tries to look for a new perspective, a new vantage point. Up till now, you believed what you thought were you thinking it. May be it is the residue of what was taught to you by your parents, or society. May be you were influenced by your friends, or immediate peer. But now you are blank. What you think now is yours. What would you like to think about now? How do you really want to live this life? How do you really perceive the projection of yourself and what parts of that projected image construct your actual personality?

There are many lies we tell ourselves; there are many personalities and images we see, when we see the mirror. There was a time I couldn’t sometimes recognise myself in the mirror, partially because a lot of things changed inside and the mental projection of me wasn’t still updated in the brain. We all know that human beings are different from apes (or animals in general) in more than one manner. One of them is that we can identify our reflection; that the image projected by the mirror on our retina, is in fact us. There is no guarantee though that what you see are in effect you.  There is no fine line between reality and our world being the child of our over-working, over-imagining digitalised brain.

There are lies we make up to escape reality and there are lies fed to us to keep us un-plugged. The author tends to believe he is bipolar and has an affinity for the ‘down and depressed’ pole because of such recurring phenomena.

Scarecrow In The Snow

I remember, there was a Scarecrow

Standing bravely in the snow,

Fending off and scaring the pests,

In a barely fertile field of berries,

Always visited under the pink sky,

By a beautiful nightingale, and a bunch of fairies

The nightingale used to sing to him,

The melodies of melancholy and of merry,

He used to sway in the blowing wind,

Dancing like in a turbulent sea, a ferry

The magic of the pink sky,

Fuelled their love, with its wonderful glow

Indeed, it was a long time ago

I remember, there was a Scarecrow

Standing barely in the snow,

Standing bravely in the snow.

– 9 August 2010

Tea or Gin and Tonic

Broke men talk, of their broken hearts

Over a cup of tea or gin and tonic.

Of the warm cockles of their hearts,

And the dreamy love they desired.

 

“Dreary me, what a fine woman!

I was a fool to let her go.”

 

“Dreary me, what a fine woman!

She stood by me with all her heart.”

 

“She believed in that elusive love,

But I never played my part.”

 

Oh! How they wish this wasn’t true

There’s nothing left inside,

Only tea or gin and tonic

In this reminiscent winter,

Only tea or gin and tonic,

To drown their sorrows and warm their hearts.

I miss

I miss those casual disasters,

I miss those causal affairs.

I miss your careless laughter,

I miss those plains and mares.

I miss those wonderful valleys,

I miss those poetic nights.

I miss those unusual rallies,

I miss those lightless fights.

I miss green mountains and water falls,

I miss our trekking plights.

I miss our candid talks,

I miss by-the-river walks.

If I were to express what I miss,

And to prove it were true.

I would lay my heart out open,

And shout out loud, “I miss You.”

Masquerade

In this play of masquerade,

Can someone see my real face?

You see the plants, the flowers, the stem;

But do you care what’s beneath the vase?

Wearing a mask, over a mask;

I feel like an empty flask.

I wear this mask,

to do the task,

of veiling all these scars.

Which no one should see,

and no one should care,

coz I still have a mask spare,

to cover my craziness, my sanity, my madness;

and to shield the world from my infinite sadness!

Naked Heart

The very private feelings,

The very little talks,

Clinging on like golums,

Wrapped like an albatross.

 

The strong breakable levees,

The weak bearing shells,

The overflowing cups,

And the empty wells.

 

The hide-and-seek with you,

The occassional face-off,

The dull eyes, the bowed head

A little smile, a drop of tear.

 

Revitalise the lost thought,

Fortified serotonin nerve claws,

That odd song, the goosebumps

The acid test, the deep fall.

 

The waking up, the bright light

The open chest, the flawed night

The shivering hands, the cracked walls

Dejected chords and a naked heart.

– 1 Apr 2012