We are all of Orsino’s Brain

“If music be the food of love, play on;

Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,

The appetite may sicken, and so die.”

Does Orsino’s superfluous love for Octavia, narcissistic behaviour change when he likes Viola’s ‘inner character’?

Who are we!?

We are all Orsino’s

Or maybe we are mollusks

We are music and food

And lights and trains

I see the jawline

I am Orsino

I see the inner soul

Viola met me

Am I meant to be beautiful for the swan’s neck or know the lines to all your books

You deserve what you look for;

Oysters. Mollusks

Viola.Or the Other.

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Of Poems

I can clearly see the traffic lights, the car lights, the crowd lights of the  street,

As I lay huddled inside my room.

 

I am thinking about the bus to Victoria that just went by

And I am thinking about poems and the poet

 

What is a good poem?

 

Is it a subjective domain? Or is it wrapped inside what you think the poet is, or who he represents, or what he does?

 

A poem about a political struggle may seem powerful but has its limits of making an impact

A poem about your lost land, romanticizing your character’s voice may seem appealing in the context of post -modern poetry. But, does not work anymore.

Or does it?

Last week I was moved to tears after I heard a poet. Heard words, but translated them into his native language.

So did words overtake me, or were the words reciprocating my social need of fulfilling my emotional ones.

In legal terms, when adjudicating a case, it is of prime importance, to list that case under the banner of, or categorizing it as a case where both the parties are aiming at the same goal, or are in a relationship which works on the principle of reciprocation (such as the institution of marriage).

And yes, the point is we link ourselves to a reciprocating relationship with the poems we come across. If it does fulfill what you are missing, you like the poem.

If not, you land in the world of contemporary poetry  which deals with social, economic meltdown ,hard times ,relationships, patriarchy ,love, system ,agency, sex, poverty ,the glaciers ,and the rules which you have binding towards, constitution you are legally entitled to and your emotional dispraises .

 

And I go back to watching the street lights .

 

Marble Arches

When poetry becomes a sin

And the oysters crawl by

Towards the written rules of Ivory

Towards the marble arches,and rocks of power

And the oysters crawl by

Taking away the wisps of forgotten desire

Poetry,your words ,before Ivory they said  .

The Pashmina

Come let us make some small talk
Then end up kissing
Does it matter if we know each other,
Oh yes ,maybe to you
You obviously do not expect me to call back
Do you?
Well yes,stay away from me; I am obviously intimidating
Moreover, I can walk on you,
I have things to do,things to write,go places,buy pashmina
Which you know is soft ,because ,you know why
Cannot explain all the erotic strands to your hay brain and something else
You know people like singers and dance to their tunes,the piano ,the guitar
The music,of love and passion and all the ugly stuff
I want you to feel miserable ,I do not need what Freud thought women miss
Go rub your phallic symbol in your face
About pashmina ,buy yourself one , you will need it when I throw you to the land of icicles
Move away from the window, I need to take a drag and blow it your face
I want you to feel miserable
Hey, close that door after you!
Before you kill yourself
And it is soft, right?
The Pashmina