Friday, April 17, 2009

Words

Nude. Stripped of context. Freed from grammar. Arranged at mad angles. Deep, bloody, red ones on cold, white, glaring ice. Damp, wet, dripping, left to dry in the post-rain moist sun. That melt in your mouth like hot, chocolate fudge. That leave a lingering bitter aftertaste. That ring final. Inevitable. That hit you right in the face. Which are not the property of language. Peeled of language. essentially an expression of smell, sight, sound, self. Like buoys. Like lighthouses. Like compass. Like anchor. Like mirrors. That you can hang yourself with.

3 Comments:

Anonymous srijith said...

ils sont fous, ces mots

10:36 AM  
Blogger Megha said...

Arranged at mad angles. That you can hang yourself with. Brillant!

7:35 AM  
Blogger Stranger said...

Seems like jim morison's writing..
check out. songs from jim morrison.You may like it.

some lines from "angles and sailors" from the doors.

"Dreams watching each other narrowly
Soft luxuriant cars
Girls in garages, stripped
Out to get liquor and clothes
Half gallons of wine and six-packs of beer
Jumped, humped, born to suffer
Made to undress in the wilderness."

10:16 AM  

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