Hopeless romantic, grounded realist, eternal optimist, brooding pessimist. All these are me. I am all of them. When I referenced my diaries for poems written decades (1985-99) ago, I was surprised to find that most related to either Love or Death. I was even more surprised to discover that, with a quick change here and there, many of them could be interchanged to reflect either. It was in this way that I discovered in myself the obsession that Sigmund Freud labelled as Eros and Thanatos, a theme that has fascinated thinkers, poets and writers for centuries. Here you will find Eros and Thanatos and a bit of Philos in between.
Abdicating the shadows; totemic. I return back to dig up the buried- moon from the ruins of poetry. It benumbs. No response was coming from cajoling the black secrets- of time-cast. A storm was raging in a pack of emptiness.
It was a freak accident of epithelium under anaesthesia. You place a window on to a hollow brain. The money makes the monkey out of you. A green light blocks the fish, your memory, to swim in black thoughts. The
Once I dare… Once I dare to write my story, Memories crowded falling me weak… And words played hide and seek. Once I dare to lost in Love, brain went on compulsory leave… Mercifully, I survived of dying dive. Once
I feel like I’m going to spin in circles. I feel like falling onto the grass and staring at the clouds. I feel like laughing and acting like a child. I feel like drinking alcohol and smoking some good stuff…