All moments follow one another

A moment hangs by the weary noose of time
Like a soaked tea bag twirling, twisting around its thread,
Above the oval surface of a waste bin, ready to be despatched.

The tiny flowers that abound the grieving wreath
Stealing their last glimpse of light, what do they think?
Not long before they will but wilt,
yet what is the end -

The click of the coffin lid,
or the resounding thud of landing in a waste pile
Or were they all dead long before?

A clumsy fly caught in a spider's mesh,
How she savors the moments of coiling, pulling her prey,
And at last death stings
yet was it not dead long before?

Are the moments all the time leading up to it
 - all the time inducing the dull death sleep?

When you see death staring at you through a secret door,
What thought escapes the conscious?
As the soul is wrenched, drained of the essence,
and yet, just moments before..
would you know that they were
all the time leading up to it, furtively?

Chance is the association of the unsuited and the irrelevant 
in the panorama of an impassive eye. 


Life is that moment, lingering betwixt eons of darkness -
the Poet's cradle, hovering above an infinite abyss.


I'm the word that escaped the dead quivering lips who stole -
a few twirling moments before being sucked into the black hole..
~Vanity

An impression singular, stands out
Stare at it with vacuous eyes
A distant land, green blades of grass,
The opaque mist covering a mottled stone tower.

My feet digging, clinging the soil, that breathes in rain
A whiff of scent carried by the shivering leaves
And tawny pebbles strewn on coarse sun beam,
 - big and small, of various shapes, a kaleidoscope -
there tracing the outline of some island in the northern bay,
there resembling a parakeet in sway,
All singular forms yet make a new whole, nature's playground
there She stroked a lilac brush and there,
carved a river of stones, and here in this crazy worm
multitude legs yet a pathetic crawl, I see her playful,
chuckle with delight.

A tiny dew reflects me, multiplies me
I've not seen that in many eyes - they look beyond me
at a mound of stone, something fixed, fated,
a biological clock running against its own course?

Yet look at me here, I'm thousand times over
in the umber mud that smeared that winter leaf
on which I stepped as I glided across the surface of this stream,
and in the bird that broke into a mellow tune as I deflected,
with one deep breath,
a moth patched with shades of chrome.

Soon as I gather the whole essence of this I,
I dissolves in the multiplicity of being,
I live million lives, some reflected in moist dew,
and some in the shadows that trail on the pavement behind,
my moments recaptured multiplied
I know not of better eternity.

---

There lies upon the grave
a tawny rough stone etched and shrubbed
bearing my mark upon the land,
now smoke and dust, while I
lie covered shivering in cold, in sand

Hereafter they say, while all after times
are fused into one, for my eyes stare
at the darkness suspended through eternity -
was there a mistake? I see no light,
Yet my heart doesn't beat,
I know no count of seconds
Just a long dull sleep

They burned me too, I was ash sawdust
Washed away to a distant sea
There laid I or parts of me
All fused and burnt and one with that sea
Swaying with waves, lost in tides
A fish just passed through me
Yet I remained I
Or no more? I cease to be

They come to me now, still
haunt me in my sleep
I lie tortured, naked
My mind lets those spirits hunt me
All hell is raised here, every night
While I still breathe
And I'm born again, with the sun creeping up
up upon the tall gray concrete sea

For once I'm a skeleton under a stone
Or dust at the bottom of an alien sea
I'm I no more - but all that was, is and would be

-

Eyes glumly traverse a parched burnt landscape
And mind wanders, in a two dimensional cage
Treading impishly on pebbles near the shore
Trampling on the stubborn green undergrowth

A glance at the rays, that
in the background gently fade
Without the sun, the source of luminescence
His hands, my eyes ignite the gaze

Behold the water stillborn frozen
Caught in the timeless spectacle,
The hazel waves thumping
against the white submerged clay face

Winds rise, a tumult unfurls -
A rendition of unfolding space, and of I,
Seething with words, ripe with thoughts
White and gray, a rocking shriek -
A gull deflected in the sky?
Dark and wan, clouds racing reflecting
the apocalypse underneath,
me, my sleepless mind, there I see a boat -
Perched on a mountain, aqueous,
will it come ashore?
Or perish under the weight of the storm?

For the mind refuses to believe
that the boat trapped on a watery precipice,
will wither away in the
timeless
frozen
two dimensional
captivity...

Manachine

http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2009/09/090901-electronic-tongue.html
http://www.magicvalley.com/news/article_692d889c-00d0-5e42-be7b-68d3948e0d03.html

i read this article in nat. geographic a few days back. Though many would know all this coz of House MD :). It's slightly creepy with artificial eyes, ears etc etc. Like that was my first reaction.

Machine and human beings interacting so closely.. almost integrating. Don't know why I should think of it in terms of good or bad. Just that we are no more mysterious and sacred. 10 years down the line I can accidently cut your finger and say 'oops, i'm sorry.. check out the transplants though.. the silicon ones are much better ;).. i got all my fingers replaced! It's really swell!'. 20 years later we will be directly sedating those regions of the brain which generate the feelings of dissatisfaction or 'angst'. And by the looks of it, few more years further down the line, we'll be the first specie to annihilate itself by mass-scale in-animation.

How I love to exaggerate!

Just was thinking whether machines will tend to man or otherwise. Women of course will be women as millions of years of collective experience and memory stand in testimony.