Saturday, October 13, 2007

All the things you don't know

this being my humble attempt at writing juvenile, schoolgirl emo poetry.

---

You don't know, I've been
playing with knives here. You
don't know. A game I keep
on repeating, impro-
vising, building on and on in different
words and moves, trying
to reach the bone
marrow, so it hurts; and I still
can't feel my insides throb
against the blue blade
in response.

In the car beneath your window
I've been choosing my men - some
with their fingers long, like music,
a few with eyes like deception,
some of them like shamans, raising
the dead with their words; crawling,
aching to touch.
The charade tires me sometimes.
In the car beneath your
window, I sit and watch
your mother, your baby
brother who smiles like you, slow,
infectious like poison, he dares, and I
despise his guts. In this car
beneath your window, I've been
waiting for you to come pull the blinds,
on a powercut evening so you can see
the sky behind me is purple. On a power-
cut evening, a candle in your
hands, your eyes flickering light. Your eyes
like deserted streets, like the dirt
in your soul, the fertile
dirt I want to mix into my
body and become
flowers, trees.

When these books these bars this Friday
night music fail, I've been
keeping my eye on you, swinging
your way down the corridor
the sun right behind your head, your hair
wild, flying, your body
like wildflower-
beds, you become the fuckin' Saviour - the boy
with the red guitar.

And you don't know, I've been hallu-
cinating nights here, entire nights
of writing mad poetry to you. You don't
know, boy-child, protected, adored,
that I walk through the shadows at
dusk, streaking them violent
blue, waiting for storm.
You don't know.

20 comments:

Bone said...

the corridor in the third stanza being the one that stretches from our classroom to the offog's office (to whoever that makes sense to).

Reeti said...

CANDY MANDY...STOOOOOP....PLEAAAAASE!!!!!!

Astraeus said...

a very different style both in structure and content...

but i like nevertheless

AbhijanB said...

This one reminded me of Eliot's Preludes and Auden's poetry.

little boxes said...

umm...school girl emo??
call it that if you may...i loved it
esp the last stanza!

Elendil said...

And now I think I know what you tried to say to me
how you suffered for your sanity
how you tried to set them free.
They would not listen
they're not
list'ning still
perhaps they never will."

- Don Mclean - Vincent

When I first read this poem, I was too taken aback to comment, but perhaps you'd like one. The poem is intense, vivid, passionate, scary even. I like the line about mixing with fertile dirt. You've used line breaks superbly to disturb the rhythm and create a haunting sense of schizophrenic insanity. The images of flowers and trees, contrast jarringly with the generally masochistic tone of the poem, to further the sense of a disturbed mind. Perhaps not a 'juvenile' poem, because juvenile poetry is *bad* and this is *good*, but certainly fraught with all the issues angsty young people have to deal with. The thing I like about your poems is that they are very subjective and very internal, ie, they deal with inner rather external problems and they offer glimpses of things most people won't understand. Which is why I quoted Don McLean. I hope this is just a poem, and you don't feel half of this because it's never worth it, and it freaks me out to think that a friend of mine could be so disturbed. But anyway, *hug*, and great poem.

Unknown said...

You are mad! This is anything but juvenile poetry. The emotions, I dare not(or choose not) to call childish. I almost identified with them at some level while reading the poem.

And once again, your imageries are fresh. New. They are real images. Bright. Saturated. Spilling with rich shades of sienna and blue. Of reds and violets too.

You really should write more poems.

Dhruva said...

Successful emo poetry. Overdone in places. Powerful in others. It's loud and attractive in the way the red colour of a warning signal or the blackyellow of 'GO AWAY, POISON'signs .

Gypsy said...

frighteningly mature, strong and heady stuff - brilliant, and coming from you i wouldn't expect any less.

love it.

Unknown said...

"When these books these bars this Friday
night music fail, I've been
keeping my eye on you, swinging
your way down the corridor
the sun right behind your head, your hair
wild, flying, your body
like wildflower-
beds, you become the fuckin' Saviour - the boy
with the red guitar.

And you don't know, I've been hallu-
cinating nights here, entire nights
of writing mad poetry to you. You don't
know, boy-child, protected, adored,
that I walk through the shadows at
dusk, streaking them violent
blue, waiting for storm.
You don't know."

thats ur success at juvenile poetry. all thats before is too you to be juvenile. Its something i generally look forward to... but at the end of the day, even combined with your normal voice, its anything but juvenile. Its amazing..... so Ur a failiure at juvenile poetry. its just poetry and beautiful. :)

Elendil said...

Can I turn this into an Octaves song, which one day, hopefully, may be sung at places like Princeton and SPE? We badly need good lyrics for some of our originals, and all my lyrics sound like the heroic couplets of Dryden and Pope.

Shaapla said...

Incapable of large comments, I.
It is nice.

Madhura said...

this is very good needless to say...like all that you write...but my favourite will always be lovenote to stranger...i didn't know you then (when i read the poem) so i'll tell you now...it blew off my feet, seriously:

For I still
nurse the ghost of you
in my mind, like a hidden madness, an
imaginary wound... so far, so
unreal that nothing
can ever touch you
no love
no tears
no blood

that's poweful stuff woman! keep writing...and if we may request, oftener :)

What's In A Name ? said...

Heady! Essentially heady poetry!!! You from the 'Joy Goswami, Sugoto Sarkar' skool ?? eh ?

storyteller said...

i think i have told you before that i am a great fan of your poetry.from the time your poems appeared in newspapers ,under "mandy m" till just a few months back when i realized that "mandy m " is actually my classmate in college,about this poem i dont feel equipped enough to comment on..but it is really very powerful ,and its been a long time since you posted on this blog.will wait for more of your poetry....

Arijita said...

i think you are simply amazing.Astonishing.Don't have much words to express.Very passionate and not at all juvenile.Do keep writing.

Devotica said...

your words are injected with a simple,child-like brilliance

call it what you may
i loved reading :)
i loved learning :)

Bone said...

i feel a little overwhelmed to reply comments on this blog. however. many thanks for all the responses, positive or not. they help me stay in perspective.

as for individual replies.

prayag, go ahead, if you still need it. though i'd like to see the lyricized version.

whatsinaname, not really. i've read a bit of joy goswami but too little to follow him. sugoto sarkar i haven't, maybe i should :)

Gypsy said...

i wish you hadn't put in that disclaimer in the beginning

urmi halder said...

hi i am urmi..........i want to be ur new friend.........i study in seventh standard......u r a great poet of love and dreams..........really so romantic