Joyce Ape Bharat

Begin, let us, by blogging on blogging, or blog we never will. Cut straight to the heart of the matter, let us, or cut we never will or never will begin. Commentary:I had written some stuff. The comp got virussed and the stuff eaten up. So begin we must anew. Regret not the loss, let us, or create, we will not, anything anew. It is late night. And there has been time lost unquantifiable. Tell you strictly only what needs to be told, let us, coz there's no more time to be lost, unquantifiable. Commentary, paraphrase et al: Things are cyclical and commonplace. The night comes before time. Curse you. (I mean I got overpowered by sleep, to atone the sins of the day, as I was writing this line here. Unsweet caesura as I was waxing, poetical) To begin anew, anew, anew....ah! how lovely the sea waves spread out anigh, anigh, anigh (oh happy metaphor, you warm my cockles ennew, ennew, ennew...) Consolation, justification, and a defense: Crystallization and dissolution, a choice. And obscurantism, a sublimation. Nay, not an ossification (stonization etc), but a non-being of formlessness. A tendenz not ingenerate or unacquired, but not uninstinct either. But resisted, it must be. Tire not, let us, or stinting in our effort be. Patience unbounded, agape immoderate I demand. Nay, we demand. Thou do more than I. (By the bye, Mahatma, a busybee tale I remember, but there no place here be for it to be, coz our Tale all Arjuna the Great Archer and his Fish be. Thou await your moment mahatma, as I await mine.) Our tale begins at the flood-womb, the torrent-bed of the rib-cage. The Muladhar. (Required a scrapbook for busy-bee tales lest they be sparked out unrevived forgiten, Mahatma. Say thou, "What O' cosmosie, even Mahatma has no place in your tale?" I rejoin,"It be a tale, no driftwood." If unmemory is the price to say, so it be.) Before and as the seawaves drift afar, afar, afar, our tale must begin at Muladhar, O Mahatma. Like a fistful of sand not gripped be, there's no steering be for driftwood flotsam, unflotsam. Before the noon-tide the Muladhar must quickened be. O'God Satyanarayan, thy blessing beseech-ed be! Things are cyclical and commonplace. Be busy with business noble, O Mahatma, thy advisement be. Things cyclical and commonplace, the universe a neurosis be. And the noble path cannot short-circuited be. A prayer and a gift, we supplicate you. No conceit this, figurative and moral. Unapt and unaesthetic accidents among the jetsam and flotsam. A fistful of sand, a man and his shadow, things and words, poetry and idea be. If only a thing begun, could indeed begin. Or not be formless, even if it only the shadow of a shadow in a cave be. Whereto herefrom ? Aporia so soon? Gift me Satyanarayan the rock of eye! Concealment, Maya, bedazzlement away with thee! Scales from the eyes, shroud from the body, fall! Obvelation! Make way for Manifestation! Revelation! Necessities of mortal being call away the stargazers too. Mortal Beings? Get away with this incongruity, you must let me. More than an incongruity you must not accuse it of being, else the aporia, the cavernous earth-world, gapes again at me with its gob agape. Agape Eros Eros Agape not, ought not to be. Thou reckless lord of earth, world, the earth-world, being immortal Immortal being, how blissful thou be! May man not forgive thee, but thou 'O Incomprehensible, All-Forgiving, thou ought to have forgiven him ante-creation. The creature himself rails,"How ill-conceived a being thou has begotten!"World-ling, world-man, earth-man, homo, pisser, naked ape, endemann, biped, son of man, mother's child, piece of flesh, deathling, fragment, Adamite, mortal, terrestrial, personeity, tellurian, earthly, anybody, snooks, moosh, poppet, flipper, thou, I, earthite. Arthaat, i.e. philologically speaking, post-lapsarian, chronlogically stating thelogistically. To Sahasradhara, through unpassable geological crusts, we odyssey, we bessech thee O' Suryanarayana! Come, set to work again, let us. And again and again with agape unquantifiable, dimensionless, hugeuos, immensible. In the dimness of being, the dragoness borne the child of mist, the unman. Barehanded snatch the burning log from fire, let us, assoil the soiled shrouding. The wayfarer so bedimmed be, O' Satyanarayana, towards Sahasradhara, let the tread well lit be. The world without end traversed thee in three steps O' Suryanarayana! The two little sisters aborned of the orphaned, widowed mother, we saw the beloved little house, O' Satyanarayana. Lost his courage Arjuna the Archer Great, the slippery eel vanished into the oceans vast O' Satyanarayana. The two little sisters and Arjuna knew naught of each other, O' Satyanarayana. The two little sisters in Nabokov's hellish island, O' Satyanarana. Living on time bought from thee, O' Merciful Satyanarayana. Thy rock of eye Krishna salved Arjun's wounded light O' Narayana. But blinded the two little ones, the glitter of the tussle of your world, O' Narayana, as they crawled down craggy rocks to Mother River, O' Narayana. The little one tugged at the hem of her sister's dirty frock, O' Narayana. And the tussle of thy world glittered as mother beat her guts on the rocks of Mother River, O' Narayana. The sisters shed salt tears down the tongue into the river into oceans vast, O' Narayana. World without end Thee traversed in steps thrice, O' Narayana. Lovely were the tresses of mother, of mother river, O'Narayana. Strangers to each other were Arjun and the sisters, O' Narayana. And the tresses and tears both mingled into the rivers and Oceans, O' Narayana. Mother and daughters mourned by the Mother River, O' Narayana. Love and pain made love to each other, O'Narayana. For once the tussle lilted to the world Ears, O' Narayana. The battle bold ensued for love of frightened souls, O' Narayana. Mother River reddened of horror old, O' Narayana. The girls arfight screamed at night of terror untold, Narayana. Ha our tale, woe our tale must not remain untold Narayana. For she our mother will curse our soul If the corpse unburied remained O'Narayana. Madhuri what price thy music Asks the Shudra old O' Narayana. For love of blood O'beloved mine Burst the cloud-vault of manna O' Narayana. With grinding teeth thou must not make music The creation symphony gala For labour of love are man and all beings O'Narayana. A game of dice was forbidden thee For one false throw has unloosed chaos sheer And there's no reining the carnage O'Narayana. Man after man unblooded And the last grain of patience strained out Cease quenching thy unseemly curiosity with man's blood. O Maker thy creatures screeching shrieking Make a din of the world Caco-caco, phoney, phoney Blood splatterd on the floor and wall. It does not behove thee O Narayana Make truce and cease now Washing the laundry of gods in our unholy blood. Drop a doleful tear for the laundress mother Beating her guts on the river bank The children be screaming their own little guts But the river of blood would cease not reddening The drink of life from the womb of holy River Mother. We love and revere thee O Holy Father Cast a glance down at our wormy world Look not askance or turn in disgust For who else we be but the children of thy loins father. The world was good that thou created Father Wherefore these oceans red? A desiccated tear into the overflown lotus of our heart Drop O' quivering flame of our eyes Satyanarayana. Be darned the maze of thy spider yarn Liberties countless shall we take With the last strand until man can count. There be no prayerless drought that beset the hearts down here It be a matter contrary if we state it thus We be drowning and dying now of overlove. Love thy god, love for thy god Kill and be killed O' crusader man. Until the victor, the last man standing Has lost all thou had gifted him Narayana. In the bounty of thy heart The red till this day Hastinapur Stood naked, orphaned, widowed Narayana. Thy church widowed, thy man naked propose a toast let us in the name of the glorious Rended lilting throats of the children and women Narayana. Women?-Mothers, sisters, wives The holiest of holy And reward of the sacred world of heroes war-scarred. Draupadi, Sita, and Mary Magdalen The skull too small to lodge the soul The echoes love lilting dying eternal Lullabying tales of terror sublime Julia Juliet July eternal O Lingaless tongue dripping red mother. And many as was the man acreate She sprang from the loins and rib O'Mother. Loving alot the lion her lord Of den, domain, and Eden O'Mother Of ken, lane, plain, rain, Of mighty main and mane majestic O Mother Drooling, saliving in lanes and loins Lorn with lust loveless unbloodless Athirst unsalted liquidless for For lioness, the unantlered indiffrerented undifferentiated Mother Acreate divided the halved unsalved wounded awandered Mother Bodalisqued revered prostituted prostrated Strumpeted harlotized forwhored bejaded Brothelled bordelled estranged drivelled Commoned womaned walked paganed polecatted Ventured frigatted nightshaded nighttraded Flingdusted pleasured masqued vizarded Meretricianned marmalade-madammed Flingstinked shetraded dollcommonned Whetstonewhored Man-leeched mermaided nocturnalled bulkered strummed Visormasked highflyered mother. Marketdamed barberchaired barberchaired Girl-about-towned Mother. Screwed hacked loosevirtued trugmallioned Womantowned townmissed kennelnymphed loosefished Mother. paphianed cythereaned cyprianed Recievergeneralled dollymopped Mother. Hookered horsebreakered flaggered rollered Scuppered scrubbered Our Lady of Evening and Night Mother. Prosteyed prostied prosticuittoed Prossied prozzied prossed proed prodded probed poul-de-luxed The prince's palace of pleasure publicsectorized Mother.