Thanks Note

Dear friends,

It gives me immense pleasure & pride to announce that I have reached a milestone of 100 followers.. Never imagined it would happen… Humbled 🙏🏻Each one of you are diamonds…

Though I am inactive for 2 months now, I sincerely appreciate and thank all my friends who read my content, trusted me and followed me. Pleasure is mutual!!!

The love for literature and creativity united us here.. Frankly speaking you guys are immensely talented than most of the writers who published books in the market.. I looked up great writers out there, stumbled with the amount of variety & commitment you people show towards writing. You keep me inspiring!

The comments I received are to be saved & framed… wish someone does that on my birthday… Reading your comments & appreciations are the greatest pleasure I could ever get in my life.

I will definitely come back ASAP & enthrall you with my poetries, till then, take care & stay in touch… I know I have a lot to catch up😀

* This post is not spell checked or Grammer checked .. My apologies!!

See ya all very soon!! Lot of hugs 😊😊

Let the joy of writing & reading prevail…

Housefly on a Watermelon

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watermelon

She is shy, she is starkers
amongst bunch of blusher flies
suckin’ red juice in a boat shaped
greenish white rotten melon caps
lay cross near garbage cans
she hum like a throat slit honey bee
the vibrations silent as bus horn
in peak Chennai traffic;

She milk thy sour juice
romancing flesh ‘mandingo’ flies
Yet
her compound eyes aimed
them, red fruit arranged precipitously
on a punctured blue tricycle
despairingly…

The old puff dog cracked chicken claw
with his torn jaw
And tricycle man wore a black
varicose Vein cover  — spiralled legs
He chase thy swarm of flies on a war
for sliced red melons
with a cloth in tatter, don’t think it matter
powdered red chillies in salt water!

She swirl towards wine red melons
Smilin’on tricycle, harder;
His wings took to air like a bomber
She pierce musca abdomens
akin kerosene queue Indians
her thorax jolted by cotton cloth strike
often she twist through cloth holes

Alas she manage
to suck mesocarp juice,
it was spicy; powdered chilly
mixed with hot melon water;
she loved the rind juice instead!
She fly back with open antennas
Housefly on Watermelon…

Save Jallikattu!!

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As a Tamilian i am forced to write this post, This ain’t my usual poetry or literature, so kindly ignore any grammatical mistake… As  Tamilians and citizens of India, we are  deeply hurt by this Jallikattu issue… Millions of people are gathered in Marina beach, Chennai because  Jallikattu is our tradition, it is our culture… it is in our blood, it is being practised for 10k years (This number might stun you, but then we have carbon dated proofs ). How can we let it go? When Supreme Court passed a verdict to ban Jallikattu hearing the Plea from PETA an American NGO,. as  Indians we felt we were let down!

North Indian Medias doesn’t pay much attention to this issue, not only to this issue, but any Tamil issue for that matter… When a soldier is killed in the border, he is termed as  an ‘Indian Soldier’ , but when a fisherman from Tamil Nadu is killed by  Srilankan Navy, The headline would be, ‘Tamil Fisherman is killed’ , ain’t he a fisherman from India? ain’t he your brother? Will they dare to write or read ‘A punjabi Soldier is dead?’ This is just one example… There are plenty!

The protest which is happening is for Jallikattu, but then that is only a spark. This is an emotional outburst of all the depression, suppression & anxiety, buried  deeply in our hearts & minds for decades…

Am not here to explain why Jallikattu is not an animal cruelty, there are thousands of videos & Articles to explain it. But I am here to make my non Tamil speaking friends to understand our plight. We wanted to be in India, scream for Dhoni & Kohli, but if this trend continues, then we are afraid we ll lose our Indian identity. We lost our trust on North Indian medias, but we believe our North Indian friends, that’s because all the North Indian friends who reside in Tamil Nadu are participating in the protest…

Finally, I request all my friends to spread our sentiments to all your friends, this should be a national protest, We can’t watch an American NGO come to our soil and dictate what to do in India! Friends we came to Delhi when Anna Hazare protested. Now, we request you to come to chennai, Please give your shoulders, we need you!! Vazhga Tamil, Jai Hind!!!

After Death – 3. The Voyage with the Lights

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lights-and-me

Disintegrated reminiscences are
no more sensed;
Asymmetrical white crystals and
bright circular cubes are
psychosomatic optical time illusions
Vaporised Deja vus are
transmuted white light particles and
radiant silver diminutive tesseracts
on a hyper ride to parallel universe,
quadrillions of light years away;
light particles are
disseminated memories
transiting copious wormholes and
colossal black holes,
bending space-time continuum
Memoirs of deads are
infinitum wavelength
Itinerant in vacuum hyper-loops;
Collisions of protons are
memory bombardments
shifting time travel between realities
Speed of light is accelerated on
quantum excitations of photons
performing luminous stellar death rolls
transmogrifying particles of light
crushed to singularity, later
forming patterns of head
and patterns of tail
inside scalar tachyonic field
Collisions of by-products, decays
rapidly to arrive at ‘The Entrance

After Death – 2. Puking Memories

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puking-memories

Eyes of mother
Face of mother
Fatherly whiffs
Black shoe polish
Understanding genders
Attracting genders
Rank holders
Daddy outings with brother
Mom twisted my thigh meat
for espying pale girl thighs Continue reading

After Death – 1.Where am I?

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2-life-after-death-lotty-garino

My mind — bluish wobbly-dizzy;
An excruciating numbness
sojourn in my brain
A nightmare? – I thought…
More pragmatic
than an anarchistic dream
A nihilistic delusion
A fabricated illusion;
My mind pugnaciously conscious
hops between the idealistic realism
and exaggerated emotional surrealism
I couldn’t intellect my pate…
This perpetual intolerable pain
inside my brain, which I couldn’t feel
Is mind inside or outside?
I relentlessly hear the sound of void
empty rhythms…
No I don’t hear; or do I?
am i breathing?
I dont feel the oxygen
Aaaaahhhhh……… Continue reading

Bloggers Recognition Award

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Hello Everyone!

I have been dearly nominated for the Bloggers Recognition Award by my dear friend-blogger Pradita. Her passion towards writing and the heart to appreciate endowed budding writers inspires me. If you wanna become a quality writer you need to have ‘that’ taste towards reading as well, which i believe Pradita has in abundance. Her posts are like a rainbow debris with so much colors, Continue reading

Rat for Crow

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rat-for-crow

This crow is peckish
dark blackish, his beak
is red hot sun
Sometimes orange
warm as sun;
He ain’t eaten a week
He is weak
He is peckish
Lord human offer him
Some spiders, like black
snake egg walking
with eight thin fingers
capped by a small lizard egg
with two spicy curved fingers;
His wings like dry fish black bones
in tatters with no feathers
He is cynical on spiders
served for a full meal
His eyes like electric eel
and spinning Yellow liquid wheel…
Lord human offer him
a rat, who’s umbilicus
tinted with red paint
his tail long like red-black neolate
This crow hee and haw
like a water hippo sun bath
He poke the rat umbilicus
with his claw later with
his rook mandibles and
pull out rose noodles
out of dead rat belly;
Rat for crow
He ain’t stable
capers on aluminium cable
Rat for crow!

Daffy Puking Duck

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daffy_puking_duck
She jump beneath the red
suave terra firma, piercing
the gravity, smooch orange
gooey acid with her bean
Bite the rubber butt of
the first lady romancing
in the white cotton beach
Puke exquisitely
on black mommy duck
beneath her nape
like a barrel of red velvet balls
horribly outta shape
Quacks loud like a
damaged sax in the
ears of stout farmers who
live down the lane
boneless dogs chase her
like Fatsos in treadmills
She hunts tiny green phosphorous
worms for fun,
never eats one;
Pipes smoke,
Patterns of pig snout kill yellow flies;
Pokes rose swine with
yellow like enamel coated tacks
on her yani and tack drawings
on her crevice – Liquid red salt
ran below swine sheath…
Despicable lumberjacks hunt her
during white Christmas
she runs cock block like a
square fucking male chicken
She slobber over them while frying,
Puke on them while eating…