asamvav111

My poetry that was previously shared over my blog here at GA, put together at one place for your perusal. Enjoy.

I want to say something here. Being whites yourselves, you may not understand the stereotyping of the white people. But, since I am from India, I see stereotyping of a White person or shall I say WASP person in every representation of it in current Indian media. Check out the comedy series "Outsourced" for this. It is overflowing with stereotypes. This is true for every race and social group. To truly understand a social group one must immerse oneself in it completely, what anthropologists call "going native". Rahul Sankritayan, an Indian polymath, a well-tuned Hindi writer, did this over & over. He married, lived together with different women of different culture and geography to learn their culture & language. With Eleven Different Women. He converted his religion each time. That is the commitment that is necessary to be a good writer. In one of my early blog post here, I had mentioned about BodhiManjusha, a collective unconscious or rather an universal library if you please. And I think every artist of every art form accesses it in his or her own way. Again going back to Buddhist theology, there is a Jataka story where it is mentioned to properly appreciate any one art form a consummate knowledge of all the art forms is necessary, which is impossible & thus we are all inferior artists. I think the same applies to human beings, which is an infinitely faceted problem. We all get it wrong one way or the other. That should not stop us. And many artists of many nationalities of many era have asked the same question as Sasha here: "why should a POC define themselves by their skin tone as a major character trait?" I believe they will continue to ask this question many eons even after us. So strive on, my friends.

Becoming Poets You and I, we have a strong bond Like brothers, like lovers; We disgust the world with our vain perversions, our inane attachment with the word and the seas of heresy part at our command revealing the shells of untruths hiding beneath the silt of social justice. Ecstasy beyond judgement is what we share in the binding fallacy of corporeal pain battling to win over the spirit. Our ascension begins at the alter of ego. Broken down pieces of the mirror of self-hate, we tread upon our steps to immortality. Morality, ethics, civility, higher power are all suspended in space as dwindling starlights, reaching us from the outer edges of cosmos. You and I, we have a strong bond. Like brothers, like lovers; We step over millions of corpses to reach the quintessential truth, the poesy of nature. 21/03/17 Paranoia When I see you talking to others I think of it as betrayal When I see you smiling with others I question if you are loyal When I see you moving on with life going roundabout your business I feel I have been left out from it all in order to hide your menace I know the wheels are turning I know the fires are burning out Emotions are condensing in big chunks of ice And soon it won't suffice to tell you that I love you, that the earth only blooms for you, that my breath begins & ends with you And soon you will leave me for the others who make you smile, who kiss you behind my back, smell your hair, bend you over to the road of infidelity And it drives me mad, mad like a ragging bull, Like a substance user craving his previous high I can't stand them making you smile One of these days I will tell them of your lies 22/03/17 ©asamvav111

I Heat up the oil Your hands are cold and dispassionate Let the oil's warmth seep up your unconscious Making you more malleable to touch Figures created out of mud and ludicracy Break not the chain of bondage of eternal servitude of lust II I didn't buy you I can't, because you can't buy humans anymore I just bought your services for the night A few hours of relaxation I couldn't buy you but I wish I could Buy your smile and tear it up and throw it away at the roadside dump and see your face behind. III Your face is beautiful And you are poor And that is the reason Why you are a whore Oops, I meant masseur IV I enjoy your face even when you look vacantly at the pasty paint scraping off the wall while you delicately push away my towel I don't know why I use it May be I like to play hooky Your vacant eyes irritate me, but I ignore them at the urging of your efficient fingers Why should one body part take precedence over the other? I like your torso as much as your arms Your big strong beefy arms, no doubt strengthened from kneading up millions of clients Your hands can even make corpses happy, like Osiris. V You try chatting up I tell you, it's not your strong suit You tell me stories from home Of sunlit village roads and games in the pond with a younger cousin way back when you were still a virgin and how you loved him, and how much you like bikes and torn jackets are all the rage and potatoes are getting expensive and all political leaders are liars... I tense up at your incessant chattering and you fall silent feeling it under your thumb Or may be you start dreaming of riding bikes through your bright village dirt roads racing your politician cousin who looks like a potato Or something I don't care I never wanted to know what you think Of the world or me That's why I never felt so free getting naked in front of anybody else... May be my mom I mean I bought you, sorry, your services after thorough perusal just like I choose the flavour of my ice cream at the super market I am finicky like that VI Turn over Your tone is always stoic when it comes to the fun part You could have commanded armies with that calm dialect Anticipation quickens my pulse And hardens my expectation Now you start playing hooky Going in and out Under the towel Almost but not quite there You know how I like it But your face betrays no affection Your eyes grow more vacant with every lunge Like a game of chess We play With my body as a wager And your affections You win every time VII Feral sounds Obscene sounds Belching, farting Squelching, splashing You are all that And more thrashing Till the snakes Give up and hide And you act as if You loved the fight But you don't, I can see it in your eyes May be I should get a blind masseur Next time 19/03/2017 ©asamvav111

Hi The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire Just kidding. Your projects sound interesting. Your life more so. Why not a memoir or a novel styled autobiography like Kerouac's On The Road. Could be fun. And Why do you have 'It all started with a potato' tattooed on your forearm? What too soon? I like your pen.

A writer should be able to write about anyone. That's why they are a writer. You don't need to be a murderer to write a murder mystery or a bird to write The Nightingale. You write of experiences collected from various sources. One's race should not matter in the way you have mentioned in the blog.

*Hugs* The poem is beautiful. I know this feeling.

A beautiful short story.

I liked it. *Damn it there is a like button to say that* um... I understood most of it, which is a miracle. I am terrible at math. The choice of words are pretty surreal by the way. My heart too danced gavottes betwixt the logistics of words. Thanks for sharing.

I envy you, both the meaningless sex and now a positive career avenue. You have seen both side of the coin. And you are a better man for it. I like your libertine/hedonistic/self-independence-above-all tone. Will keep a look out for your future adventures. Enjoy asia. Why no India on your list? We don't hate gays as much people think. Especially whiteies we adore. And be careful of STDs and Diarrhoea. Good luck.

Senpai noticed. O>O yay

(For a certain someone) Who created you Whether by touch or a gentle smile Like snow flakes drifting in the wind Melting with the smallest touch of a Warm hand Who created you Whether by plan or perchance A divine intervention that shined the Light in the darkness of the void adorning The unseen universe Who created you Whether in dream or reality find Flawed images of perfection assuming The ultimate victory of love over Experience lost to the mind Who created you Who created you 13/03/2017 ©asamvav111

I disagree Mr. King. This anecdote has a tranquil quality to it. A certain neutrality with an air of subtle objective indifference rings through this. Thank you for sharing this. Permanence of affection belongs to the realm of immortals.

Thank you for all the help and support you have given us. I do hope you continue to be a part of GA even if not an administrator. And about life, Bon voyage.

Good Luck!

I think there will be quite a few takers for your story here... and a horde of them for your husband.

Begin by music what lyrics had shunned, Evanescent feelings that shan't be returned, Forever is a long time if you are not a friend, Every limit mortal as time's sickle bend. Yet I bequeath my heart and desire, To you and your lot I cast in my fire, A flame everlasting shall flourish in me, Like a flower that blooms only for the bee. 31/12/16 ©asamvav111 Wishing everyone of my friends, near & dear ones, far & farces, enemies & rivals A VERY HAPPY NEW YEAR.

This is a perfect short story posted here.

And every Doctor should see. Especially those who work in Public Health and Govt. funded institutions.

Please take care of yourself. We all love you.

:hugs: Please be careful.I pray to God that things go well. but be prepared. You are not alone. We are here for you.

A nurse can postpone a surgery... wow. So much power! This sounds like a bureaucratic nightmare. Healthy living choices are always welcome. It will actually help you on the long run. Try not to stress over the surgery. It's the system that is stupid. More happy thoughts your way. P.S. Has the nurse heard of "Whitecoat Hypertension"? And did she diagnose a patient with hypertension on her own with a single measurement on a pre-operative visit? So knowledgeable.

160/80 is not that high especially before surgery. The stress pulls systolic high. A couple of days bedtime anxiolytics fixes that. That's how we deal with it here. I think it is unlikely that they will find anything seriously wrong. In India it is the surgeon's responsibility to manage the perioperative hypertension. He may send for a internal medicine consult. But sending back to GP for this, seems juvenile. Guess that's why we provide better service in a far more resource limited situation. Worried a little here. Take care.

Hope you have a good surgery and a prompt uneventful recovery. More love your way. Take care.