Illustrated Firmament

I turned
To see
What the sky
Had become
For me



I stared
And wished
That that minute
Would become
Infinite

Book 4, Chapter 13, Doggerel 22

Dancing figures
Don the night
Demarcating domains
Through their dance

Momentary movements
Mix and match
Making meaning
Out of nothing

Vixens weave
Vivid versions
Vague and vast
Like vineyards

Their Little Clichés: Scene 41

After The Night Out

[Night time. Inside of an SUV. Camera is out of focus. Slowly starts focusing on Him sitting on the passenger side. As it comes into focus, the first focus falls on the window by his side. Droplets of rain. It stopped raining a while ago. Blurred red and blue lights mark the background. Camera focuses on His face. He is looking towards the camera but not at it. Camera cuts from Him to Her at similar angles as they speak.]

Him
(smiling, almost in delight)
Quite an evening!

Her
(trying to concentrate on her driving)
Yes, a bit too much. I don’t like late nights on weekdays.

Him
But this was a one time exception.

Her
I understand, but I am just saying we should not do this too often.

Him
Of course not!

[Camera cuts to view of the road in the front from Her perspective. Starts drizzling again. Windshield wipers come on. Accompanied by sound of wipers but not of rain. Camera cuts back to alternating between them.]

Her
(pauses and looks at him)

Him
(puzzled)
What?

Her
You haven’t noticed my dress all evening.

Him
Of course I have noticed it.

Her
No you have not. You have not said anything about it.

Him
(smug)
I said I noticed it. I don’t have to say something about it to have noticed it.

Her
Argh!

Him
Come on. You look beautiful and you know that.

Her
You should say it more often.

Him
Okay.

[Camera pans out to back of SUV on road and keeps moving upwards. SUV keeps driving off into the drizzle. Light music plays. Camera goes out of focus again]

Lingua franca

Complex nightmares
With innuendos
Running through

Haunting metaphors
In sinuous dreams
Run anew

Primordial beliefs
Illogical paradigms
Ran yore

Creating communes
Of vernacular origin
Through scuttling syndromes

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust

Sometimes
All that we have
In common
Is death

Sometimes
It comes
Sometimes
It goes

Sometimes
We think about it
Sometimes
We try not to think about it

Sometimes
It happens close to us
Sometimes
It happens to those close to us

Sometimes
We forget about it
Sometimes
We can't stop thinking about it

Sometimes
It's here
Sometimes
It's not

Sometimes
It brings
Us together
Forever

Shining through

The clouds
Form across
The blue sky
Creating patterns
Into the horizon

They leave
The sun
Lonely
Trapped
Behind

Its light
Crashes through
The trees
Sharp and
Shining through

One night, inside out

When the outside is about nothing and the inside is about everything. That is when you lose your senses. And as you get permeated with the moment and the feeling. It all comes to you. The meaning of the moment and living it. And I am living this moment. And I am breathing this feeling. And it comes to me again. The beat breathes through my soul. And I am seeing this city in a different light tonight than I ever did before.

When the outside
Is about nothing
And the inside
Is about everything
That
Is when
You lose
Your senses

And
As you get permeated
With the moment
And the feeling
It all comes to you
The meaning
Of the moment
And living it

And
I am living
This moment
And
I am breathing
This feeling
And it comes
To me again

The beat
Breathes
Through my soul
And
I am seeing
This city
In a different light tonight
Than I ever did before

And I am seeing this city in a different light tonight than I ever did before. The beat breathes through my soul. And it comes to me again. And I am breathing this feeling. And I am living this moment. The meaning of the moment and living it. It all comes to you. And as you get permeated with the moment and the feeling. That is when you lose your senses. When the outside is about nothing and the inside is about everything.

Scribble

At first
He scribbled
His thoughts
On the pages
Before him

The pages
Grew more and more
Complicated
Immersed
In his thoughts

Then
She overwrote
His thoughts
With the way
She saw things

The pages
Got a life
Of their own
That streaked
Through

In the end
A child
Came along
And scribbled
And tore

The pages
Were now
What you see
They call it
Scribble art

Captured, captivated, complete ...

Captured ... by the light
Captivated ... by the moment
Complete ... by the feeling