why poetryst. as far as i remember it was pure magic for me; the humility of
letters, their strength to assume a shape and change collectively the written environment
around them. their docility. of being servile in ones hand to convey what could not
be talked but modestly expressed on paper. and i could not resist the temptation to be
seduced by them. this seduction continues.
i can recall that as a kid i got hooked onto words. tiny
words. small understanding. simple thoughts. i remember fondly peeking into my
fathers milton ( still have it 58 years later). & wham i could not but
write poetry. & the rest has been a long journey in translation, discovery, rebelling
and expressing. & let me tell you my best friend in this meandering has been my diary.
never demands; ready to accept. & year after year i keep my diaries safely.
i can spend a whole night staring deep into my room and not
arriving at anything. it could manifest in a dull interminable headache the next day. or
an angst ridden poem; after all i need to be comforting myself. bless the spirit on those
nights i need to escape. i can write a poem on these nights and demolish the warmth of
relationships, the futility of philosophy or write paeans of the refuge of dark.
being sensitive, i can only feel. being introverted, i
search. the more i try to fit into societal norms, the more i am uncomfortable. i need to
set my own terms. my own meaning of what I have to organically exist. my belief being
cerebral. the brain detects. & this detection i try to convert into poetry. it
confuses me to digest that poetry needs to be crafted. i would rather leave it raw and
crude. being blunt and having to be understood thus, is what i aim at. to me the demand of
embellishments reflects the need for acceptance. by whom? these yardsticks bug me.
& coming back to poetry i never felt the need to be
perfecting my writing skills. in any case, suggestions are welcome. while
ive tried writing all sorts of poems i dont know what kind of poetry i write.
not that it matters. but just well the same.
religious bigotry makes me mad. after all, all religions
teach you to be good. try this distillation. the answer is always the same. so whats
the big deal. i realised i dont need religion to practise being good. i remember
having rejected religion since the age of 10. & i haven't been worse of. i am still
alive and sane(?).
i hate borders. i hate belonging to a country. i reason out, pre-historic man
was after all a human being. where were the borders then? & if some escape
annihilation which country would they belong to? weve shed more blood on that thing
called nationality. remember colonialism, wars, nuclear tests. what purpose did any of
these serve. i dont know.
i hate governance. the politician master and his bureaucrat
slave. you need to see how they have wreaked havoc in this part of the world. and maybe
i hate mans injustice to man. war, capital punishment
is the impoverishment of our collective conscience. only the poor die. the rich after all
are the bloody icons of governance. i like to chip away at pedestals.
i try to pull down the cloak. fear, pain and death cannot be
explained away by religion. we need to accept their inevitability. i reject the
ballyhoo of immortality. a born flesh is after all going to be dead ash.
& thats that.
so poetryst is a record of my journey. i was destined
to write; destined to gathering words and feelings - shepherding the
random & i am gonna keep on doing that.