Specious Spaces

Saturday, June 25, 2011

A no-gravity state- the dim lit dream-space goes well with this- the dead power lines - ideal for flying past, fear, a fancy, passing the tallness of trees; the north east, an unknown spot, a faceless lurking thief waiting by the window to steal the bag of flaxen serpents- logic’s nakedness alluring, the sentient elapses in to the obscure,like flung paint on the wall of an asylum, round the bend- a familiar remote ancestor along with a nameless tree, hide in the room’s wooden roof, not sinister enough to cover, mind tends to pull out a blase snake with self-doubt,moving under small feet to the shabby civic building to where the football rolled in -hear yells of children-the anxiety of the sweet cookies nonexistent in a dream-wakes you up in an ugly cradle.

5 comments:

Eileen T O'Neill ..... said...

Sasidharan,

I have spent some time just listening to the piece of music at your Blog, while reading and rereading this most wonderful piece of writing.
The music is perfectly aligned with the mysticism and sheer craziness I found, within your words.
A journey to the very edge of sensibility and back to stark reality.
I love this very much indeed for its originality.
Best wishes, Eileen :)

Brian Miller said...

i have to agree with the above comment...you images just flow one to the next...a dash of craziness in between it makes for and easy read, that leaves you thinking...

hedgewitch said...

Interesting imagery--particularly the snakes. Lunacy is often quite clear sighted, once you figure out the language.

Kathy Bischoping said...

I was with you till the bag of serpents, seriously, the urgency was compelling, and then got back to 100% on board with the entry of the dreadful civic building...I think the flow of consciousness is easier for me to follow along with when there's longer sustained sentences than when there are short phrases, or perhaps it's when the syntax is familiar even if the meanings are of the "curious green ideas sleep furiously" variety.

Eileen T O'Neill ..... said...

Sasidharan,

I love the mystery flowing inside and all about this poem, even when visiting for a second time. Eileen:)

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