darkly dada
sinisterly surreal

elegantly gothic

the dark angels

.
.
.
speak to the dark angels

Dance Unto Death

 


Soon we'll know that we know nothing. 

One day, today, tomorrow, who knows?

Cows

{Please click to show full size... taken 23rd July, Boghead road.}

dusk

sunset
Originally uploaded by prerona.

waif,
spirit,
ghoul,
ghost.

trapped
by thread of lead
to the body;
cant let go.

body yet
full of fire ants,
and acid dirt horrors shame
and memories. cant go back.

so i melt another sun
and hold it in my palm
and tip my cupped hand
to pour it down

and i strike another moon alight
and blow an underwater storm
and cover it up with calm rivulets,
neatly.

Dark Matter

.

Believe as the dead do--
they stretch their hand,
taste the truth.
Do we recognize the dead?
We see them as spots,
transluscent particles--weakened;
yet we fear their God;
we think ourselves strong.
We feed our daily lives to obscurity,
waiting dumbly until the moment speaks us into ruin.
I live alone with the dead.
They listen; they know my name.
When they greet you tonight,
show them favor if you are wise.
For all of us, dead and quick,
answer to no source,
but our own.

Normally poetry goes here when I am brave enough to post it, but this is also on CV. In a way, it's a blog in poem form.

Corrosion Risk?

Mumbai, Mayhem & T.S. Eliot

Last night I read Eliot.
These are strange times to read him
and more to discuss him with a friend at Marriott
as we sip wine and eat lamb-steak,
expostulate (that’s a big word) against double-speak,
heresy, hypocrisy, a bureaucrat’s bid to block blogs,
America’s complacency, Israel’s capacity to bamboozle, shock.
My friend chuckles, he’s recently been to Tel Aviv,
is well acquainted with Israel’s potential for mischief.
And then, my friend burps, sighs,
“Aren’t we lucky to be alive?”
But then trains were never our aspirations in rush hour drives.
We’re probably waiting for the Metro
for us to shift to public transport,
aspire then for a workplace
between Versova and Ghatkopar.

(…the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherised upon a table…)*

The conversation shifts to extra-marital affairs, orthopedic surgery –
Professor Matuknath Chaudhary’s love discourses for his paramour Julie.
(I think Matuknath has balls
to turn his life into a brawl
and stand for what he believes
while the news channels gloat at this sleaze.)
But it is politically correct to take pot-shots
at him and I further it with parental duty, guilt.
I talk about my mother’s rheumatism, her knee…
Why is it that women suffer more from arthritis?
Has there been a medical research on this?
My friend shrugs, I don’t know though my mother also suffers from it.

(We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!)**

The bill is paid. We step out in the early morning rush.

(Half-past two,
The street-lamp said,
“Remark the cat which flattens itself in the gutter,
Slips out its tongue
And devours a morsel of rancid butter.”)***

I am grateful to my friend, and
he says thank you for that rib-tickling performance.
This is the best we can offer to each other –
Moments like bric-a-brac, friendship as a tag –
A mathematician and a stand-up comedian.

I stand smugly satisfied at this sight.
The rain assumes the muggy Mumbai night…

(Wipe your hand across your mouth, and laugh;
The worlds revolve like ancient women
Gathering fuel in vacant lots.)****

© Dan Husain
July 19, 2006

Notes:
*From T.S. Eliot’s “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock.”
**From T.S. Eliot’s “The Hollow Men.”
***From T.S. Eliot’s “Rhapsody on A Windy Night.”
****From T.S. Eliot’s “Preludes.”

floyhip

In need of some emotion

{Taken 17th July 2006 - Kelvingrove Art Gallery & Museum - Glasgow}

an angry sun

the angry sun

heats a limitless sky.

red baked roof tiles

reflect a gauzy haze.

words by cocaine jesus

rivers of clay

you'll never know,
where you are with me.

you'll never know
what i really think.

and all the while,
ill be gurgling conversation
and confidances; so it'll take a while to sink in
that I never really say anything ...

and now i'm burnt because
i reached out to touch you.
and now i'm broken bcz i flew against the pane;
again.

now there's just a new pain.

its deja vu:
i've been here too.
the hurting dulls and passes;
the bitter taste, of dirt and guilt
takes root and only grows.

as i watch ur figure fade, in my head,
as i walk away,
i just hope this ones the last
there's only so much leaving i can take

certain

one here for kindness

one here for spite

hold your soul to the sun

hold your heart to the light

words by cocaine jesus

discharge

the concept for discharge was twofold

i love the stuff that transience did/does on
vespertyn
and i wanted to take that initial idea and mutate it into something darker.

i also love with a passion beyond reason everything that doriandra smith does on her genius site pica

why do i love doriandra so?
i once asked if she cared whether or not she got any comments?
her reply was all i needed
"not one rats ass"

and so i plotted with doriandra and i begged and pleaded and together we laid the bones down for our monster

imagine, if you will, the sound of mark e smith's the fall meets can meets doriandra's own EXP (you should listen) and comes out with a lick of the cocteau twins

THE DARK ANGELS had purpose and form and we multiplied

lilith
raven
inkblot

and then my good friend stickleback2


our adopted motto is the one our queen gave us

do we care?

"NOT ONE RATS ASS"

visit the dark angels on discharge

Ascension

  

Even though my husband provided the raw material, I decided to play around with color, hues, contrasts and shapes. Maybe we are witnessing a holy man going up to heaven while his kids try to keep him earthbound. I haven't seen this guy for a long time, so who knows?

Dream Weaving

We were on the 21st floor of a large hotel in what appeared to be a rather rural area. It was a large lobby like dining area that took up a whole floor and were at an engagement party or something. We hadn't been there for more than 5 minutes when my brother and I were dispatched to the car to bring something heavy up to the party. I took the nearest elevator that would bring me to the lobby directly across from the check-in desk my brother took the fire side elevator that exited near the doors.

The elevator decent was uneventful. The kind of elevator ride I had taken a thousand times before. As I watched the digital count down of floors I thought of nothing in particular. The floors seemed to pass by in chunks of 2 or 3. 20...17...15...11... 8...4...2, and then it happened. The elevator seemed to cut loose and dropped the last 5 feet to the ground. My stomach hit me in the throat. Strangely enough the door opened as it should have, and I stumbled out in a daze of what just happened.

As I gazed across the lobby I saw my brother stumble out of his elevator as well, and my mind began to race. The sinking feeling that sent us swimming into the middle of the ocean when a tsunami was coming hit me all over again. My brother made the same realization as I yelled, "RUN!". We both ran toward the doors leading out of the building and a rumble could be heard above. The building was coming down.

My brother exited the doors about 40 yards ahead of myself and despite my superior speed I could not seem to catch him. In fact he was pacing away from as me as I looked up to see the top half of the building coming down towards us. The sound was horrific, but my heart was screaming for my wife and 15 month old son who were still on the floor I left. And I was running for my life when their lives were almost certainly over?

I began to wonder if my life was forfeit so my brother could survive. After all hadn't I warned him and helped him escape? My heart caught in my chest as my legs heaved my 160 pound frame as quickly as they could. My heart pumped battery acid and I could not run any further without my family...

Suddenly, I am standing next to my wife who is holding my son and we are on the 21st floor again. And then it hits me...This building is coming down. I tear my son from my wifes arms and tell her we need to get out. There is no time to talk. We run for the stairs and seem to cover 20 floors in a breath. As we burst out of the rear entrance to the hotel the building is collapsing out the other way, and I am awoken with my heart pounding out of my chest not knowing if the building ever really finishes it's decent to the ground, and I am left wondering why I asked that question. As I stare at my now groggy and concerned wife I am unable to speak. I know a large building will soon fall. Hundreds of people. Trapped? Dead?

...and relax

foot lifts from pedal
speedo returns to zero
fantastic sunset

warthog

foot touches pedal
the speedo moves over dial
rubber burns tarmac

words by cocaine jesus

Duck in rain

{Taken 2nd July - on the only lake in Scotland.}

Wifred Hardbottle

Wilfred Hardbottle awoke with thoughts of Rosie Sliteworth on his fevered mind.

Wilfred, a widower these past thirty years, was fast approaching his eighty third birthday and had discovered, in recent weeks, a curious sensation deep in his chest whenever he thought about Rosie.

'Indigestion?' he pondered

'Heartburn?'

'Heart attack?'

Then he realised that the sensation wasn't unpleasant at all. In fact it was very nice. Kind of warm and fluffy. It also seemed to reach down to parts that he had begun to forget the proper function of!

'I'll be buggered' he said, although as a very heterosexual (old) male that wasn't an option he would consider not even for large amounts of money and a belly full of beer.

'I'm in love!'

And of course he was.

He leapt out of bed, (well, not really leapt, more gingerly creaked like an ancient and rusted spring), into his carpet slippers and dressing gown. Took his teeth out from the glass that sat beside his bed on the walnut cabinet (they tasted of steredent and vodka) and went slowly down to his kitchen where he made himself a strong pot of tea and a charcoal offering to the gods of buttered toast.
After breakfast he committed himself to a pensioner’s ablutive regime. Shave, shower and something one doesn't mention in polite company, then, dressed in a Marks and Sparks duffle coat and an old pair of army surplus boots he climbed onto his trusty old bicycle.

For a gent of 82, Wilfred was able bodied but Tollshunt Hill was the K2 to his lustful ambition. At times he seemed to be locked in tragic slow mo film sequence where neither he, nor the bike he sat on, seemed to be moving at all but just rested, like a pimple on a ducks back, on the brow of the hill. Then, with the assistance of gravity and his own sheer willpower Wilfred and his bike slid down the other side and freewheeled into the Doctors surgery car park.

He sat patiently for ten minutes or so wheezing like a broken harmonium in the Doctors waiting area and then, fully recovered, once called upon, strode into Doctor Kettle's office.

'Mister Hardbottle, How the devil are you?'

'Doc, I need something to put the iron back into me old pecker. Something to restore me old chap to full upright condition. Something that will steel me loins and put a smile on old widow Sliteworth’s face. Doc I need some Veeagra!'

At this point Doctor Kettle bitterly regretted dipping his ginger nuts into his tea and amid much spluttering and coughing managed a hoarse, 'You need what?'

'Veeagra Doc. My old mans gone a bit limp'

Minutes later and armed with a hearty prescription a smiling Wilfred Hardbottle burst into the local pharmacy.

'Tonight,' thought Wilfred, 'I am going to set fire to Rosie Sliteworth’s passions!’

Mr Morrison

Hammering The Cramps

The Savage Desert - Continued

SCENE 17 (CONTINUED)

FRED AND JUNE ARE TO ONE SIDE OF GROUP SITTING ON ROCK. JUNE IS WRITING POSTCARDS.

FRED:
It doesn’t matter if we can’t remember the postcode. It’ll get there.

JUNE:We should have told everyone we were going.

FRED:
We couldn’t, could we? Anyway, they’ll know when they get the cards, won’t they?

JUNE:
But where will we post them?

FRED:
Just don’t worry, okay.

JUNE:
But I do. We left in such a hurry. I didn’t even say good bye to my mum…

SCENE 18. EXT. DESERT. A COUPLE OF HOURS LATER.
ARTY SHOTS OF THE PARTY TREKKING ACROSS THE DESERT.
CUT TO:
DANIELLA AND TERENCE.

DANIELLA:
(TO CAMERA) I don’t know how long I can keep this up, to be honest. I ache all over. The heat. The sun. It’s gruelling, it really is. (TO TERRY) Have you got those moisturised towelettes? (TERRY HANDS HER ONE) No, no, no. Not that one. The peach.

CUT TO:
RON. HE IS SWEATING. HE TAKES OUT A MARLBOROUGH LITE AND LIGHTS UP. HE GAZES INTO THE DISTANCE AS THOUGH OVERWHELMED BY THE DESERT’S BEAUTY.

RON:
That’s beautiful.

FX – CLINKING OXYGEN BOTTLES. RON LOOKS BACK THE WAY HE’S COME.

Hurry up, love.

CUT TO:
CDT. HIS LEG IS HEAVILY BANDAGED. HE CALLS A HALT.

CDT:(TO GROUP)
Five minutes rest. You’ve all earned it.
(PAUSE) (EVERYONE GATHERS ROUND)
CLOSE UP
Water. It’s our number one priority. Our body is 70% water. The average person consists of 11 gallons of water. And lack of water is number one cause of death in the desert. You can live for several months in the desert without food. But if you run out of water you could be dead within minutes.
So… what can you do?
Drink lots of small amounts. Don’t drink alcohol. Stay in the shade wherever possible. Stay out of strong sunlight or strong moonlight.

RON:
(OFF CAMERA) Moonlight? That can’t be right.

CDT:
Yes, moonlight. And never drink your own urine.

FRED:
(OFF CAMERA) Can you drink other people’s?

CUT TO:
WE SEE FRED’S HAND PLACE LIAM’S BIG METAL BOWL ON TO GROUND. WATER SPLASHES INTO IT. LIAM DRINKS NOISILY. WATER SPLASHES EVERYWHERE.

CUT TO:
ZEPH AND CDT ARE TALKING.

ZEPH:
How far do you think we’ve come then?

CDT:
Good question. Let’s see. (HE GLANCES AT SKY. HE LOOKS AT WATCH. HE RUBS CHIN) Well… I’d say… about a kilometre or so.

ZEPH NODS KNOWINGLY. (PAUSE.)

ZEPH:
I’ve been thinking. I’m sure I know you. Haven’t we met somewhere before?

CDT:
Er… I shouldn’t think so. Were you in the Army? The First Armoured Division?

ZEPH:
No way. Didn’t you ever hear my solo album – Freedom Avenue? All about freedom? It was the Eighties version of Crosby, Stills and Nash – but with synthesisers. And better harmonies. It sold nearly a million.

JIZZ JOINS THEM.

ZEPH:
Hi, honey. I was just saying to the Captain. He looks familiar. I’m sure I’ve seen him somewhere.

CDT: (TO JIZZ) You look familiar. Have you done any modelling? FHM? LOADED?

JIZZ:
(FLATTERED) No… not yet.

CDT:
Well you should. An attractive girl like you. You’d be a natural with those lovely breasts. You should try it. I’ve got one or two contacts…

ZEPH:
How far have we got left to go?

CDT:
About 199 kilometres.

ZEPH:
Shouldn’t we be making a start then?

CDT: I guess so. No. Wait. (HE HAS SPOTTED A LARGE PRICKLY PEAR) Everyone. Gather round.

CUT TO:
EVERYONE GATHERED AROUND PRICKLY PEAR. CDT DEMONSTRATES HOW TO GET WATER FROM IT.

CDT:
These cacti can go for years without water. Why? Because when the rains do come, maybe once or twice a century, they store water in their leaves. A bit like camels.

ZEPH:
Do camels have leaves then?

CDT CUTS BRANCH DOWN AND SQUEEZES OUT WATER.

CDT:
You do have to be careful, though. They have – ouch! – thousands of little – ooh! – barbed spines that – ah! – stick in your fingers.

HE SQUEEZES WATER INTO CUP.

(TO FRED) Try that.

FRED TAKES SIP AND SPITS IT OUT.

FRED: That tastes of kangaroo vomit.

CDT:
Not when you’re dying of thirst in the desert it doesn’t.

JIZZ:
(O.O.V) But we’ve got gallons of water in the Winnibago.

Playing Savior

It isn’t every day that I get to play savior. Atleast not to my enemy. But this was different.

It was a warm muggy night, one of those which had me all worried and anxious. I could sense a storm brewing. The sky through my eyes seemed overcast and I couldn’t glimpse a single star in the hazy night. Just when I was settling down into my cozy, damp bed, the sky above me shook. There was a loud rumbling and streaks of white light blitzed past my watery home. I wriggled in delight. The rains were coming! Finally! I gave a loud croak and “ribbit’ in the deepest voice that I could muster. It was time for a song!

For those of you who don’t know me, I love water. It is my life. I like the earth too but there is nothing like being in water. Food is plentiful, so is the company. And I lay my eggs in it. My eyes and nostrils are high up on my face so I can see a lot more than what you could if you were in it. Just imagine gentle ripples on the water as tiny drops fall pitter-patter on the water’s surface. A cool breeze that wafts through the muggy night and a sky lit with a brightness that surpasses that of the moon and the stars.

Okay I am digressing. Coming back to the hot muggy night, it was different. The rain was incessant. Soon the water in my pond was brimming over and the downpour was relentless. I decided to hop onto the foliage besides my home and lay crouched well hidden, while the rain poured down. It certainly felt like the heavens had opened up.

I closed my eyes, hoping for a short snooze when the unbelievable happened. Something or someone fell right onto my back! What on earth could it be? I was so shocked that I leaped right back into my ‘safe haven’ the pond with the “someone” holding onto my wet back for all its life. My bulging eyes rolled upwards as high as they could to catch a glimpse of this object that had “dropped straight from the heavens”.

I couldn’t believe my eyes. But my eyes don’t lie you see. I can see in all directions. It was a rat. Of all the things to land on my back-my ENEMY!!I stayed still, feeling its furry body and its whiskers, my little heart pounding away. It squeaked and said, “I am sorry Mr. Frog to land here uninvited. I mean no harm. I got lost in the deluge and cannot swim. I ran as much as I could and landed right here on your back, the safest place I could find, although it is extremely wet here”.
I croaked deeply not wanting to show my fear or anxiety. I let him be.

The rain poured down and he clung on to me continuing to talk. I croaked and he squeaked and we spent our unusual night together conversing about our lives, our families and whatever came to our weary minds...As dawn broke, the rain ceased and I hopped onto the land with my new found friend. We bid each other goodbye and I don’t mind admitting this, I was a bit teary eyed.

What a different night it had been! Not just the rains but also because I had made a discovery-enemies can make wonderful friends. And just by being a savior for a night.

Jyotsna
July 7'2006

PANGAEA

PANGAEA I've been told!

the numbers game

they come in twos
they like it that way
they were never alone
but they'd never stay

they once did three
to set them free
yet somehow
it wouldn't let them be

it gnawed, it scratched
their cosy nights
and cracked it into
petty fights

no cage no rules
we're nobody's fools
luscious lust
the game's a must

it wasn't he
it wasn't she
so who would win
this game of three

the sun is set
the pillow's wet
and did they rue
the loss of two?

Three flowers (or "Photographs don't count")

{Taken 1/7/06 - backroad from Kirkmuirhill to Lesmahagow, Scotland}

never people

somewhere between here and forever, between this point and that is a different place. a place without rain or cloud. without sun or sin or sadness.
just a place.
a different place.
it is where the never people live.

live is not perhaps the right word. observe is. they observe all that there is to see. from the first birth to the final breath they are there and have been there since, well, forever.
they are watching now.
watching you.
and me.
watching us all.

if i could i would ask them but one question.

what would my question be?

why, i would ask them exactly what they thought of the human race having observed them for a millenia.
but sadly, i already think that i know their reply.