Wednesday, August 13, 2008

ILLEGITIMATE SANITY...


She sat in the corner of the room,
Gnawing at her words,
Licking at the piece of paper,
Where lay her meaningless rants
Carefully swallowing every crumb
Of her vomit on the page;
Her bare truth, her naked instincts;
An acid that brew her soul as ate her body

Acid that could not be sustained anywhere,
Acid that was not to be borne anywhere,
Acid that was to be, to be.
Acid that she had to be.

She had to scald and seethe
Into acid find retreat, before
She be welcomed back again
To this world, for the sane.

7 comments:

Mampi said...

Says who that Paradise is Regained. For her, it is the same horrendous experience, same horrible creativity.

delhidreams said...

MDFBWyou my dear
take good care of yourself

oceanic mirages said...

Mampi: i wonder if it sone paradise that we all seek, rather is it the paradise that we seek at all? i dont know, if there ever will be any answer, for the answer itself will linger for a moment somewhere and before its realization will vanish...

Adi: M D F B W U adi...
u take care too.miss u.

Cuckoo said...

I always wonder how you write such intense lines.

And I am trying to decipher MDFBWU.
Lollll

My Dear F B W You... ;)

And your profile photo is so wonderful. :)

human being said...

breathtaking...
i read this in my reader a few days ago but something hindered me from commenting then... as if something in me should be brewed with this acid too...
it was with me through these days... taking me back to my twenties... when that acid was hard at work shaping my soul...
and did it stop? did i return 'To this world, for the sane.'?

sometimes i feel i'm taking this world into that acid!!!

you've captured that sense so powerfully... so truly... so bravely... yes i love your bravery... you write more than words... you bring about a mutation in them...
namaste...

oceanic mirages said...

Cuckoo: thank you my dear, ur comments are always needed and treasured. and carry on with ur deciphiring bit ;-)

Dr. Jay SW said...

Wow--great stuff--the title itself a poem one could talk about all night...vomit on the page...acid...scaling and seething...gnawing, licking...anything but meaningless, even if the meaning burns....

Mayfly.

Sun-kissed nights,  run wild and sure mornings, shrouded in grey walk slow,  noons burn high, and so do the hearts. like dawns I linger, lik...