Aathmaanaam: Translations from Heaven and Hell

The Question Look at that Crocodile In it's flashing light Bleed for some time Every color of it is in it's own spot If it is a tree it should be like it was removed from somewhere and kept here There is no talk of time or timelessness here It is that we want We want it's imaginations Forms could change but there shouldn't be a change in meaning We want the product in it's totality The question ... Is this a possibility? should arise It should look as if it is the truth that we see Then the painting you see will not give room to any doubts Note : Discourse on a painting?

We, You and They Among ourselves when we talk many merge You are asking Is it right what you are doing You are the seekers You are the device You too ask yourselves You and Us Are the same ... right? How can you ask yourselves If we are you Who are you If you are u Who are we If you are the question we are the answer If we are the answer then you are the question How can your question and our answer be the same What is the question What is the answer Are the question and the answer the same One or two is not the question If it is question and answer Is question the answer What is the question What is the answer You we we you Note : Another wordplay poem ...  Does it question the status quo? Who are ''they''?

The Event that did not happen As a single entity a solitary cloud aggregated and arose inside me dreams disconcerted I woke up once again A memory played A dance started A drama debuted An event froze A moment in time moved existentially As a single entity a solitary cloud aggregated and arose inside me Note :  A Magical Mayhem?

For Sure Sales is an invitation You have to buy from somewhere your wife your children and apart from them anything from the shops Literature is a commodity It doesn't have a life The literature with life as of today is talking silently You have to say something Note : How statements turn into poetry with Aathmaanaam's magical touch ...

Cooling Glasses I wore the cooling glasses The dye clad world was beautiful in a way Dyed up humans looked into my eyes Someone asked why this glass I intended to say a thousand reasons He did not believe the truth I removed the glass and put it down The world was beautiful in a way Note : Perception and Attitude matter

On their own Everyone were peeing on their own When I entered the assembly went into a silence I asked why did you stop On their own preaching I turned around This is all because of you I focused and looked A voice was heard but couldn't understand a thing I laid myself upside down and saw everything was staged in a stand right posture I leapt and jumped The under ground drainage was dry Earthquake everywhere I peeped slowly Two hands full a single sunflower

Companionship The butterflies that fly with the ground befriend the sand The sand befriends the magma The magma befriends the sperm cells The sperm cells make love to the land With the sperm cells that got mixed with the land the butterflies that befriended the land are in relationship Life beautifully jumps and flies not following a particular direction The butterflies live a life although the direction of whatever land flown by the butterfly is known only to itself I guide a line in the direction it wants to go naturally but it choses a pre-determined path The butterflies that fly with the ground befriend the sand I am talking to you Note : An overly simple yet complicated poem ...

Reason I do not talk to the opposing waves I know their nature I leave way without argument Thinking of the danger Another day when I am calm With my full strength I throw rocks and they float like boats for me Note : I cannot stop  from connecting the last lines to an infamous saying by a famous Tamil Politician ... Treachery and Vision are differently abled ... Is this a futuristic political satire ...

Re-review I leave everything to re-review The books I have read mock at me One book says I am the same old being Another says I am new That if I am even a man has to be checked under the pressing circumstances like a fish bone struck in the throat A black snake entangled between the green grassland The pen that cannot just keep quiet Scattered fly the vultures The hue heard somewhere The larynges hanging on the rope The word crowd that awakes those who are sleeping and those who act as if they are sleeping The black forces have started Note : "Every orientation presupposes a disorientation" - Hans Magnus Enzensberger