The Enchanted River

  • Fast

    If you fast a few days
    anything that you eat later
    even if it is not from a Michelin star chef
    will be so tasty

    If you do not travel a few years
    wherever you go on vacation later
    even if it is not some beautiful coast of Italy
    will be the best place on earth

    If you do not eat outside for months
    and then go to a restaurant
    even if the food is something you knew
    will feel so new

    If you do not meet people for months
    and then go to a hostel or a party or an event
    even if they are not the most entertaining or deep people
    they will feel fun

    If you do not earn money for months
    and then someone gives you a job for a meager salary
    even if it is silly compared to what is normal
    you will feel content

    if you do not see the sea for years
    and then suddenly one day you see the sea
    even if it is only for one day
    it will feel enough

    it is in your power to fast
    if you find yourself wanting something all the time
    and if you decide to fast instead
    then you will surely find god

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  • Crass No Yar Sk

    Where has the mystery gone, do you know you’re just a pawn?
    Do you see it in London or in Berlin?
    God tell me where have you been?
    Who stole it from you, my queen?

    Give it back to me, I need the romance to be
    Going back to memories, to carouse in it,
    Who had the sun ask them come out?
    Where were the kids who did not shout?
    Spin my mind in, fill my soul jug to the brim,
    Show me ten ways of love, nothing to light the stove,
    All the lights are off, a fat man with his cough,
    Fingers on his phone, swiping up alone

    Crass, your fucking grace

    Go to therapy you said, have you ever fucking shed?
    Ain’t no one going to their friends’ anymore
    Do you even have money to rent a home?
    The aristocrats are drinking beer in London and NYC
    Wake up at seven every morning,
    Making your shitty meal, on your fucking kneel,
    All the lights are off, your ugly face aloft,
    Fingers on your phone, swiping up alone

    Crass, your fucking grace

    I’m checking a bower on the map, always another app,
    It’s got four point two, from I don’t know fucking who
    I’m on WhatsApp with you, texting our pursue
    Plop, hey its another URL, this never ending carousel
    You’re on their agenda girl, but nah you ain’t their pearl,
    You’ve got your soul jug filled to the fucking brim
    Fingers on your phone, swiping up alone

    Crass, your fucking grace

    What does the magic box tell you today
    Like it thinks it knows your DNA
    Ain’t no one but you my dear
    Don’t let the aristocrats drink your beer

    1 comment on Crass No Yar Sk

  • Tomorrow is a New Dawn

    First the feeble pinky, then its wretched kin
    The blood seeped in a twisted bezier
    For eons, the veil of age concealed my terror
    As I shriek in a voice not my own
    A legion of howls painted the sky ghastly red
    For dinner, the broth of tormented toes
    Tomorrow is a new dawn
    Said I to myself
    Tomorrow is a new dawn

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  • The Red Skies of Wants Thunder

    The red skies of wants thunder
    Thunder in my mind
    Thunder in my blood
    Thunder through my bones

    Who bet the mind for a turtle?
    I’ll recede my senses
    When I see the red skies of wants
    Torrential pain in a vortex

    Hey thunder
    When will you get to my last body?
    I’ll wait
    I’ll want

    A thousand white sperm rain
    Thundering through the red skies of want
    Thunder in my mind
    Thunder in my blood
    Thunder through my bones

    My thunder corrupts your innocence
    You’d rather be away
    I’m a fucking lion turtle
    Look up and stay away
    ‘cause I’m a red sky of want

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  • The Song of the Raging Sea

    Only the tumult of a raging sea,
    rocking our boats to places it needn’t be,
    who dares whisper a few good words and conciliate?
    For mighty is her resolve, and feeble her invaders.

    I

    Beating against our aged wooden hulls,
    her stories she forces us listen,
    of conquerors who’ve tried quelling her ire
    and soldiers who wished not to partake.
    Songs of past surface under the raging storm,
    as she cries louder into the setting sun,
    and our vessels are but dumb dots,
    lost in a mighty gale, drifting away with no desire.
    The heavens gather, to listen to her fables,
    that which needs be told to every sailor passing.
    She sings, in a majestic low soprano,
    that the men have made merry in her midst,
    carrying goods of war and crime,
    that her song is the only redemption, she roars
    in a frightening contralto.

    II

    The old few those who’ve listened with care,
    warned us of her ire before we sailed away.
    Like seasons weathering old rocks to dust, their lore,
    distant and washed away,
    little did the forgotten wisdom give us hand,
    our wet faces, now bereft of any realization,
    piecing the parts only to fail.
    In the frantic cadence of her waves,
    in her wild cosmic dance,
    in the fearful tremors of her ballad,
    we solemnly pray for the tale to twist our way,
    to the young and true, she’ll say,
    listen again, listen again!
    That your understanding of this divine tale,
    of man and his destiny shall see the light of day.

    III

    In a desperate bid for a final confluence,
    we merged a raft from parts of the now wrecked hull.
    She is the canvas for our dreams,
    in her we float free like in our mothers’ wombs,
    her story too ambitious to comprehend, we let go,
    and like a violin soundtrack to God’s elegy,
    her rage turns to deep sorrow.
    The last voice of this universe,
    like the distant hymns of a hindu sage,
    she sings the song of the raging sea.

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  • Algorhythm

    With O of N in mind, I started right,
    To see the code, was no ordinary sight!
    Write I did, and compiled it too,
    Error it said, Oh now I have no clue.

    So now I used more time and space,
    N squared it became, and I did a stack trace.
    Debug and Recompile, now well and done,
    Oh this is sure going to be fun.

    In GNU/Linux I believed, and execution began
    Oh you should have seen how the code ran!
    The system sung the song I wrote,
    Its beauty and brilliance, I will not gloat.

    _____________________________________________________

    I wrote this in today’s Data Warehousing and Mining theory class.

    Was sure a sleepy day. :)

    I lead a fun life, don’t I?

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  • The stupidity of Mr. Mangam

    In those universes where they lived,
    where time and space weren’t a thing,
    Mr. Mangam was the supreme being,
    A God full of awe and power to the lowly mortals.

    These mortals never aged, no they didn’t,
    because poor Mr. Mangam forgot to create time!
    Without time how will they ever live and die?
    Oh this is all very bad indeed.

    So Mr. Mangam, now erred ofcourse,
    believed in spirit and soul and for death he thought,
    He thought and thought and did, for ways in which he’d kill,
    kill those mortals, because they were called just so.

    Funny that but, Mortals do not die now?
    Oh Mr. Mangam, you are indeed Mr. Stupidity now.
    Comical it may seem, there were dire consequences
    Fathers and sons fought, and fought, and fought.

    Brothers and sisters forgot that they were, and Mothers,
    no longer remembered their own sons,
    But wait a minute Mr Mangam said,
    how can mortals who don’t die forget the past when there’s no time?

    Bugged by his creation, Mr. Mangam did decide,
    to beyond he’ll travel and consult the all-knowing,
    the all-knowing was the supreme creature,
    for it was the one earthlings label as the creator of the cosmos.

    Who is he? Where is he? What is he?
    These spiraled in Mr. Mangam’s thinking organ.
    But unfortunately for him, he didn’t have one.
    The illusion of thinking without thinking, is a rare art indeed.

    So Mr. Mangam does find out about the all-knowing,
    And he travels to Heavens that are beyond the known universe,
    where his sources say, lie Mr. Supreme Creator of Cosmos dude,
    In a deep meditation, so deep that the mind is one with the body.

    But Mr. Mangam had to travel through and through forever
    and ever forever, because from where he came, time was, remember?
    Space wasn’t a thing too, right? Er, what?
    Confusing it may seem, there is stark simplicity about this, hear.

    Travel through space, takes time correct?
    Travel through time, takes space correct?
    But how does Mr. Mangam travel to the heavens?
    Truth isn’t the truth anymore, not that it is now, but is it?

    Aha, and Aha! Said Mr. Mangam,
    “You mortal who doesn’t die, will never know this trickery of space-time.
    Because when I created these universes without space-time, I didn’t really.”

    Did Mr. Mangam really create such a universe?
    Did he really come to meet whom we call God to correct his errors?
    We will never know for sure, will we?

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Hi, I’m Suhas. The below sculpture is not of me.

Marble statue of Sappho on side profile.