Friday, December 30, 2011

Shuteye (2008)

Dead leaves, wandering flies in a quagmire
Midst the silent and motionless redwoods,
Fragmented sunlight bleeding through their
Leaves of silence and dust, eroding my skin; 
Squirrels hopping and flowers dropping
Marking beginnings and closures at points
Of one. Stone bench and gathered muck,
A slouching body- mockery of sanity...
Taking a nap. Swinging in and out of
Parallel realities and with the sun on red
Eyelids, hope and sanity hide and seek-
Taking turns. Family? What is that? Like
A thicket of stoic redwoods, silent and 
Inactive just expecting one to look up till
He is blinded by the sun? Morality, dignity;
Just the dot-like flies that live and die by the
Hour. Here, I take a shuteye just to measure
My sanity in scoopful, redundant heaps. The
Sun adds color to these images within the
shuteye and scatter these scenes of a memory-
Suspended and crucified in time. The wind
Blows and the water flows through dead leaves
And gutters making a gutteral noise of still. 
I jerk into wakefulness- the numbness of my 
Reality. The fingers burnt by the speck of fire,
While the smoke corrodes my breath. Smiling
I, take another one and quench a timeless debt.
The eyes are shut again and now, open with
Denial. All of the seven cast on my shoulders,
As the redwoods stand looking down on me.
Once what was the sea is now a meander,
Yielding nothing. Still, waiting for the wind
To blow over and validate its actions and fill it up
With waves of moisture from the clouds. In that
Shuteye, the collage of melting colors reprimand
And incarcerate the rigid meander sand. The
Bastard creation of nothingness that was thrown
Into this void of faces, just wants to live for once-
Validated. Proven like a theory and accepted like
A growing hypothesis; being nurtured over decades
And accepted. Sitting in the crucible of time under
Vigilant irresponsible eyes, I bathe and corrode
In the acid of stereotypes. How would it be I wonder
If I was born out of a meagre, inward shuteye? Would
I feel the weight of sunlight or the bitter chill of the moon?
Would I appease life with another morning candy or beg for 
Death at every noon? Wish I was a baseborn form,
A stringless life and a determined death. No 
Umbilical mother, or a redwood dad or bloodline
Diseased with thousand debts. Set me free,
Let me love, give me my wind in a treasure trove. Life,
One day I will be your maker and we shall meet, where
Death becomes you and the rigid strings- me. With 
Each shuteye we will be free. There... it rings again!!
All a mockery... A shuteye of my sanity!

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