Disjointed Unions

By the window,
I wish I could have seen her once; just once before she went up in flames
Exploding herself, the ones she opposed, also the ones she defended
For herself this is, she claimed in the many letters she wrote to me
For her beliefs, principles; but what it turned out to be, I asked
The answer was silence, no more letters, and a period of void
Then finally blood and flesh scattering on to the same land she loved, I loved!
Sitting there at the window, looking out into passing frames, gaze fixed nowhere,
I was awaiting those letters from nowhere, in my own sweet world

By the door,
This one cannot hear, neither can see, nor talk; I heard them say about Ramu just before we met
He was sitting in a corner by the Ganges, on the steps that lead to eternal salvation; I was walking down hoping to cleanse myself
Of all the sins my profession earned me; pleasure they had said, I was seeking, but some bread for dinner was all I wanted
I was going to die, my doctor had told me, better die at the Ghats he advised; so here I was waiting for the end, but it finally seemed life had begun
when Ramu touched me for the first time the other day; He could not see me, nor hear me; it was through touch that he told me he loved me,
It was when he held me, caressed my forehead, hugged me, and cried out when I died, I finally lived;
The train chugged along nicely, as Ramu alighted carrying in his heart a lifetime of joy;
For he finally could see someone, hear someone and whisper to someone

There she sits,
As the train kept chugging along, I noticed her for the first time in twelve hours
I was bemused, but surprised why my eyes did not catch the sight before
Stunning she looked, but made up, wholly; why would someone be me, I thought
I was running away from me, thought being born this way was a curse, hoped I could have been a boy
A few stations later, she said to me, it feels good to be a woman, liberated to be finally what I am;
And I thought to myself, how strange is this world; that one’s God is another one’s Devil
We got down together before our destination came; walking out into the world, liberated from chains,
Chasing our Gods, and devils; dancing to the tune set by the wind, in our own sweet worlds

One who was sitting in my place,
I was searching for myself in all the stories I wrote, all these years, until this day
I am the one without roots, born somewhere, grew somewhere, fell in love somewhere, lived someplace else, and finally died somewhere
Nomadic spirit, with no strings, the one who lived under many skins as it suited
The one by the window left me wanting
The one by the door left me crying
But I escaped reality with the one like me, the one I fell in love with
And we set out,
Chasing our Gods, and devils; dancing to the tune set by the wind, into our own sweet worlds

Dannie John
15-Jan-2011

I am just a colour

Why have you branded me?
Tormented my existence
What if I did not want to represent what you made me out to do?
What if I could rebel?
Pink thinks he is stronger than you make him look
Red loves peace and did you know white is more violent than most of us?
Green does not plant trees, nor blue do any work
And for me, you made me out to be the villain
While I looked beautiful, sans any pigment,
I am like anything else, as clueless as anyone else
Why did you complicate?
When I am just a colour!

Dannie John
15-Jan-2011

An empty canvas, an empty page

White, clean and empty it was, was a long time ago
When I started, undecided of the first brush stroke, the first word
A palate full of colours, a mind full of words
Ready but not clear, wanting but not certain
Of the woman I wanted to paint, of her story I wanted to write
I sat staring into the darkest point on the all white canvas,
Moments passed, my head ached, ice melted, ash collected
The first stroke never arrived, my first word never appeared

It was a beautiful high-rise, a balcony with a view
My chair settled nicely into the corner, and there was a lake across the road
Sprits to give company, to raise me above mortals
The idea, you see, is to be alone, and loneliness springs up beauties
The walls were painted imaginatively, the slow music played inspiringly
The setting sun enhancing the mood, the palate on the sky offering colours
Moments passed, my head ached, ice melted, ash collected
But yet, the first stroke never arrived, my first word never appeared

Then I gave up on my vision, thought she left me for better men
Folded up the canvas, tore up the pages
Emptied my glass, and stormed out of my world
Across the road, by the lake, there is a small little market
Little it may be, but crowded it always was
I walked up to the tea stall, traded steam for spirit
Among the people, into the crowd, on to a nearby rock
I settled in, dejected at being cheated, abandoned and discarded

Dark, dirty and cluttered it was, a few moments ago
When I cried, in agony, pain and exhaustion of forcing creation
I still was alone for sure, but amidst a maddening crowd
Among people, faces passing by, some smiling, some grim, some cruel
My woman somewhere lurking around the corner, her beauty to be discovered
My canvas, my page found purpose, they set out looking, calmly searching
My brush, my pen waited patiently, for her to come, no inspiration, no imagination
She would come, and fall into my arms, I knew

Moments have passed, my head does ache,
But the bitter sweetness of this wait keeps me going!

Dannie John
15-Jan-2011