Prophet of Poetry PUSHKIN

Excerpt from Bible of Cinema “Sculpting In Time by Andrey TARKOVSKY”

There can be no question of a person’s remaining passive once he has grasped the truth of tat order; for they come to him without his willing it, and overturn all his earlier idea about how the world is. In a very real sense he is divided, aware of being answerable for others; he is an instrument, medium, obliged to live and to act for the sake of other people.

Thus Alexander Pushkin considered that every poet (and I have always seen myself as a poet rather than as a cinematographer), every true artist regardless of whether he wants to be or not—is a prophet. Pushkin saw the capacity to look into time and predict the future as a terrible gift,and his allotted role caused him untold torment. He had a superstitious regard for signs and portents: we only have to recall how,when he was dashing from Pskovto Petersburg at the moment of the Decembrist rising,he turned back because a hare had run across his path;he accepted the popular belief that this was an omen.In one of his poems he wrote about the torture he endured through being conscious of his gift of prescience,and of the burden of being called to be poet and prophet.I had forgotten his words,but the poem came back to me with new significance,almost like a revelation.I feel that the pen which wrote those lines in 1826 was not held by Alexander Pushkin
alone:

  “Weary from hunger of spirit

Through grim wasteland I dragged my way,
And a six-winged seraph came to me
At a place where two paths crossed.
With finger-tips as light as sleep
He touched the pupil of my eyes,
And my mantic pupils opened
Like eyes of an eagle scared.
As his fingers touched my ears
They were filled with roar and clang:
And I heard the shuddering of the sky,
And angels’ mountain flight,
And sea beasts moving in the deep,
And growth of valley vine.
And he pressed against my mouth,
And out he plucked my sinful tongue,
And all its guile and empty words,
And taking a wise serpent’s tongue
He thrust it in my frozen mouth
With his incarnadine right hand.
And with his sword he cleft my breast,
And out he plucked my trembling heart,
And in my gaping breast he placed
A coal alive with flames.
Like a corpse I lay in the wasteland,
And I heard God’s voice cry out:
‘Arise, prophet, and see and hear,
Be charged with my will-
And go out over seas and lands
To fire men’s heart with the words’

New Year Time to get weird beautifully

I am thanking for settling abroad into space.

Dude don’t shower upon such out of syllabus English in men khors.

But why bro!! why!

I need space I must push abroad out of space

So that they can sense the power of my pace

You no country can’t afford genius like me in the race

I am highly evolved than existing species of human race

My ego got hurt in hindi they call it thes

Don’t change language ka dress

Stick to one proper place

Without any leftover trace

Dude forgive me

I am outta your fan base

I gotta go air base

Then follow the ritual of

Getting everything on place

Mayn you are so dumb-like-shoelace

You obey master’ keeping yourself open and shut case

And proud of being like ghanta

Helping nonsense chase

Love Meshramism.

 

 

Back To Poetic Front

• eternity is my last stop
  losing all the developing vision
  of a democratic dude
  cruising for plasma membrane
  of dying soul via microscope

• rain was supposed to tell me
  the mystery of how the hell
  get fire extinguisher that too
  when they don’t permit the
  existence of dying ash

• true was avoiding poetic front for long
  I guess foot long now I know
  it’s an inevitable gesture
  of high five with linguistics
  leading crucifix

• I see silence talking to violence
  I see violence stalking bylanes
  I see bylanes crawling my aims
  I see my aims falling to my pains

• the close up of silence seems too heavy to hold
  I lost the vision by displacement
  physics offered me some theories
  I am done with breweries

• poetry is not about the poet
  or the subject on which you are writing
  it’s all about how beautifully one can
  blabber without losing attention.

• surrounding- hangout place for shelter
  makes me more moron than travelling aimlessly
  on mumbai roads I must migrate habit to habits

• ya so I was lost in the dense memories of raining blood
  all night I keep getting the history floods in
  my eyes I rest pledge of waiting bus

• there is cut in my writing butt
  I feel it stops the flowing words,
  imagination keep getting displaced
  before committing to cigarette buds.

statue pain drain

oh hi
back to the sheet
free flowing wind blowing
heart raining
words rowing
black background
night towing
i got license
but morning station
needs my attention
will summon myself
with or without going
hah! that’s not what
i decided for sowing
barren land cemetery
kool enough for for for
god knows i am just bowing
to the words coming
to the leads showing
wow that’s a good
example of writing
witch needs to be get going
but vehicle got disappeared
in the blame game
logic is what left for train shame
ohkay will travel as per planned chain
even if its useless for damn pain
sane insane stop the brain drain

Tears Please Move On

Love got over

Tears Kindly Move On

Let the beloved Rest in Peace

She wept waiting and then…

She took away all my patience

with her…

So that I don’t have to wait for anyone.

Intelligent Girl.

May God Bless Her.

Because I am a devil now.

dancing muse

well dancing muse
a flowing excuse

in my mind and heart as if
glowing bulb on the verge of fuse

she got some playing darts
pinching soft corners like
jumping wheels of bullock-cart

why should I write well
got to play my part

therefore everyone shall remain
and restore their life long chart

oh too much rhyming as if
poetry is chime of art

oh I miss dancing muse
she said no to my views
keeping me high on refuse
pour me till I diffuse

muse knows how
to use and misuse
let her be with
what
she needs
to lose to chose to cruise
so that she can heal all my bruise
oh well then bye to all the byes
will remain cool and coy
dancing muse
see you when see yiu.

Ah Simplicity

Ah… Simplicity

Waiting wants holiday since birth.

Society served me the laws and logic.
So that my face won’t look gothic.

But Simplicity Why you are not there in the city?
You always roam rest on a village side.
Putting the glittering city abide.

Oh Simplicity come to me
I lack wisdom daily facts and
figures made me despise the living manners
of ever developing city.

Oh Simplicity

Do I need silence
Or the fragile ageing?
Or shall I exhaust all my desires of running youth?
When I will be able to grasp you inside wholly Miss Simplicity

I need rest from knowledge from wisdom from human struggle
from everything that needs the shout out.

Oh Simplicity Let’s keep it simple
I will be your smiling dimple.
youth unavoidable pimple
maturity wisdom wrinkles.
simplicity so long.

Tears Rare Sight Keep it Well.

tears sleeping in the cemetery

dancing hair of poet fetching wisdom

from the passing wind

trembling pen paper wind

doesn’t seem to pat her

everyone knows those prescribed

evenings for the poet to be celebrated

in cemetery till his next birthday

muse they visit Paris in midnight

so they entertain me in the lovely morning

where milk is raining slowly-slowly

the whole cemetery turns into a

White curtain where I flow My Pen Paper Flow

Muse Milk Hangover of Midnight’s Paris

We all flow in the White Curtain of Cemetery

As if Tears teaching us how to dance and

welcome the lovely morning

how one should love the tears saved in the heart

because they don’t come often

TEARS Rare Sight

Let’s not fight.

I am On Diet 🙂

Love Never Ending Carnival

I met her in a circus

carnival of social uplifting.

That journey of meeting got over

as the circus went on for globetrotting.

But our relation from my memories is

still roaming in those romantic lanes

where we first time saw each other

as if we are meant to be together.

The love is not lost it is just busy

in work, our season of get together

hasn’t come yet,

Silence and solitude walk together

my love is waiting for our talks to gather.

We will be together a belief

almighty gave me for his preparation

are still under construction.

My world knows

therefore everyone owes

to me to her to us

the love birds…

🙂

Passion Nothing wrong if it is not there.

There is nothing wrong if you don’t have a passion for anything. Not everyone can afford a simple living.

I realized that void of passion in me which I see in my surroundings. That passion which people have for their work, life, family, friends, politics, and humanity. They are ready with their high opinion on all the aspects of life. I respect that. But I am not able to produce such socially acceptable passion which needs the desired acknowledgment from peer pressure. My personal favourite Great Indian Literary Laureate said – This knowledge longing for knowledge, one logic leading to another proves that you are a part of the circle. You must lose logic-energy to roam outside this never-ending cell.

Coming back to passion after leaving the social acceptance party. I am trying to feel the ecstasy, intensity of Passion through the works of Legendary Artist all over the world. And Yes, It is helping me a lot about that whatever strikes you should completely immerse yourself in that ocean of yours. So that when people stop by they must say – That island over there is full of treasures you must visit to collect for your journey.

So Right Now this much only I can gather from the weather dancing in my heart’s ladder

Don’t worry I am no Mick Jagger So kindly participate and show some swagger

Cause Dancing Floor is waiting for your depression-slaughter

Oh Yes, I caught her in my words

My words do matter.