Skip to main content

Posts

Showing posts from June 21, 2008

ദിവസം ഒരു ഫോട്ടോ 6

photo mk





Myself1I am notlanguage;only the first alphabets of a primitive script;In their bid to split me intoalphabets and wordsthe schools stacked my head, mind and body with multiplephrases converting meinto a mannequin.But I turned into a lonesuicide squad separating myself from languages;I moved on with sharpened passions among the doomed establishments;still I didn’t become a materialist2I am a sentence with words missing,always yearning for meaningsWhen dissolved in letters, an voicereminds me about my real selfHowever in my frightI could not but destroymeanings3When butterflies flew aroundI too joined them as flying versesThe butterflies which were also equally scared of meaningswere in a frantic plightfor a way outand I too became a butterfly4There is now darkness of the nightThe anonymous voice of the darknessThe orgasmic delights of darknessThe primitive legacy of darknessThe whispers of the dead in darknessThe varied tunes of those who neversettle down in a single body;The …

ദിവസം ഒരു ഫോട്ടോ 6

photo mk





Myself1I am notlanguage;only the first alphabets of a primitive script;In their bid to split me intoalphabets and wordsthe schools stacked my head, mind and body with multiplephrases converting meinto a mannequin.But I turned into a lonesuicide squad separating myself from languages;I moved on with sharpened passions among the doomed establishments;still I didn’t become a materialist2I am a sentence with words missing,always yearning for meaningsWhen dissolved in letters, an voicereminds me about my real selfHowever in my frightI could not but destroymeanings3When butterflies flew aroundI too joined them as flying versesThe butterflies which were also equally scared of meaningswere in a frantic plightfor a way outand I too became a butterfly4There is now darkness of the nightThe anonymous voice of the darknessThe orgasmic delights of darknessThe primitive legacy of darknessThe whispers of the dead in darknessThe varied tunes of those who neversettle down in a single body;The …

ദിവസം ഒരു ഫോട്ടോ 6

photo mk


Myself1I am notlanguage;only the first alphabets of a primitive script;In their bid to split me intoalphabets and wordsthe schools stacked my head, mind and body with multiplephrases converting meinto a mannequin.But I turned into a lonesuicide squad separating myself from languages;I moved on with sharpened passions among the doomed establishments;still I didn’t become a materialist2I am a sentence with words missing,always yearning for meaningsWhen dissolved in letters, an voicereminds me about my real selfHowever in my frightI could not but destroymeanings3When butterflies flew aroundI too joined them as flying versesThe butterflies which were also equally scared of meaningswere in a frantic plightfor a way outand I too became a butterfly4There is now darkness of the nightThe anonymous voice of the darknessThe orgasmic delights of darknessThe primitive legacy of darknessThe whispers of the dead in darknessThe varied tunes of those who neversettle down in a single body;The…