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Showing posts with label Autism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Autism. Show all posts

Friday, May 8, 2015

Autistic Brain

Every sound pings his brain.
Although his hearing is fine,
he rarely meets my gaze.
He fidgets, paces, or circles
as his mind travels mazes of thought.

Contact is not needed, unwanted
touch disrupts circuits,
dislocates the signal from nerves to brain.
He holds my hand on rare occasions,
the ultimate sign of affection.
Sharp as a tack, recalling detail
at the drop of a hat.
He searches the recesses of his mind,
processes questions,
retrieves data along encyclopedic relays.
Mental rifling, through
an accordion file folder mind.

Friday, April 10, 2015

Memory


We took you
beautiful white filly
rode you
returned you

You were our archway into
desire and fulfillment
pleasure and the forbidden
fear of punishment and perdition
love and longing
passive
feminine
law beaking
but none of that stopped us

Initiation
into
that other world
where your galloping hooves
were like
thundering surf
in our
wet dream

We will always
hold you
in remembrance
as sacred
though
now you are
just a
memory.

Annihilation

Since a while I have Restrained my heart
From listening to its heart
It felt like crying
A bit like dying
But I had been prying
And I didn't let it do
What it wanted to
So I told my heart
U have to be happy buddy
U'd been sad for long already
It didn't reply
Neither looked up to me
But obliged and succumbed
the call Of its heart
into oblivion
I did see my heart Killing its heart All this it did Just for me
And then I saw my shadow
Standing - Shivering- Cruelly..

Poetry-The Ethics And Learnings

A nameless void sets in
To the poet's heart and to the vicinity
Of his existence from nowhere.

The birds stop singing,
The stream stops flowing,
The breeze stops blowing
And the stream of conscious of the poet
Meets a road-block,
As you depart the scene in a huff.

Now tell me...
How shall you assure the birds
That you have come back and
That you shall not leave them
So that they get their melodious voice back?

Now tell me...
How shall you convince the stream
That you have come back again
That you shall not leave it
So that it remembers the formula of its perennial flow?

Now tell me...
How shall you convince the breeze
That you have come back and
That it should come alive from its frozen state
For the sake of humanity?

Now also tell me...
How shall you
Console the poet
That you have come back for good to him
Who laments inconsolably over the
Death of his quill and spill of the ink. ?

The Summer Wind

In the woods I was lost, feeling like a dust mote in the sky.
In these woods, dark and dreary had I stumbled to die?
The olive groves and the silent trees
Were ruffled by the balmy breeze
The birds fluttered and then with a flap of wings, flew high.

The ghostly trees raised their branches up towards the skies
Through brier and bramble echoed hair raising moans and sighs
The air was thick with lamentation
Before me appeared an apparition
Into a frenzy of sudden activity were thrown the quiescent fireflies.

In his gloomy countenance, his eyes, like twin fireflies shone
At this uncanny sight, I quivered and tripped over a stone.
What was that sound insanely bizarre
Someone plucking at strings of guitar
With work calloused fingers letting out moan after sad moan?
.
Ears pricked to the music, I followed the pageant of the fireflies
Rich voices rose in a lilting song offering me a musical prize.
Ah heavy was not the cost
Of being, in the jungle lost
In the sparkle of the pageant, I forged some, new lasting ties.

Row your boat merrily along , the fireflies danced this message
Why be afraid of lurking demons , and flutter like a bird in a cage?
Why should any apparition
Be a cause for lamentation
Forge ahead,you talented actor, performing your role on life's stage!

No longer drifting like a dust mote I hummed a melodious tune
From behind the trees appeared the bright and proud moon
In the woods I was now on a ramble
Unafraid of brier or bramble
Life had once again become a sparkling and tempting boon.

The Power Of Dreams

I cannot go inside your dreams,
Only angels know that place.
And if I recognised you –
Would you have a different face?
The rising tide that washed our feet;
Has long reached a different shore,
The clouds have changed from dragons,
And just turned to clouds once more;
The roadside knows my footsteps –
Somehow an echo has remained,
But the crossroad sign has turned around,
Nothing here is still the same.
So which road will I follow now?
I’ve crossed rivers, waded streams,
For me it doesn’t matter –
No, for me it doesn’t matter –
I have lost the power of dreams.

Backyard of your Heart

At the backyard of your heart
At the backyard of your heart
Where you sometimes stand still,
And try to be alone with the clouds,
Singing a song perhaps, or simply
Curling threads of your auburn hair,
Give me a place right there,
I would just stand quiet
And be a part of your quietude,
And if you laugh out loud,
I would just flash a quaint smile,

At the backyard of your heart
Where you sometimes sit back
And try to unwind yourself
Sitting on a rocking chair,
Give me a place right there,
I would just sit quiet
And be a part of your quietude,
And if you recite a ballad lyrical,
I would do the same with you,

At the backyard of your heart.

Poetry-The Ethics and Learnings

Ten reasons why every woman should have a virtual affair with a real poet.
1. Who doesn't like having poems written to and for them, initially at least, on their beauty? Though it may pall after some time.
2. Poets have beautiful and bounteous souls that give rather than take.
3. You could learn a lot of new words, puns, tricks and tips about writing and language,
4. He can make you temporarily into a poet, while you are with him.
5. You are never stuck for a rhyming word.
6. Poets teach you a lot of virtues, like patience. grin emoticon
7. Empathy and sympathy for all kinds of strange unheard of never known before or to the rest of the world causes enter your domain of knowledge.
8. Poets make you keenly aware of Nature,
9, Poets are liable to make you jealous, thus improving your overall everything
10. You can always get a poet to cuddle with you and your teddy without any embarrassment.

Complete Autism

I could not explain to anyone else but could to him.
I could put him on my lap.
He would not be listening, seemingly.
That did not matter.
I would talk, do the talking, as he would not or could not anyway. Except in his own language that I and others could not follow.
You see, darling, I would tell him, there are these pieces of paper that matter a lot to people on earth.
Yes, I know you and I are not from this planet. But they are. And they value these pieces of paper highly and assign different values to them. I never understood any of it.
I have to make lots of them to give you and your chichis and mom a good life.
For that I have to stay away from you.
Cos in the place I go to leaving you behind though that makes you and me lose out they give me more pieces of paper for same amount of work I would do here or less and those pieces of paper that I cannot read are ones that can be multiplied into even more pieces of paper here where you are, which in turn supposedly gives you all a better life though i have no idea if it is better or worse.
Do you get me?
He would not reply, of course, Or even bother to look at me, but he would sometimes look at me out of the corner of his eyes and smile or laugh and that was God smiling or laughing, if God exists.
Both of us got nothing except that it was nice to sit there with him on my lap.
Whoever had laughed at me and him had been right.
Just like him I had never belonged
Just like him, almost, those pieces of paper meant nothing to me
We would never amount to anything much, him and me, or if we did it would be by some fluke that people called the grace of God.
But we both valued those times with him sitting on my lap.
Pity that chasing those pieces of paper gave me so little of it and him.
Pity that I was not as far gone as he was to tear them up or make paper boats out of them given the chance.





PS: All the posts in "Autism" and "Rejected Stuff" category are very close to my heart as they are conclusions of the various discussions I had with people of different ages on Facebook.

PPS: This stuff is written by a gentleman and a very good friend of mine.I just did the proof reading and SEO work. 

PPS:It is published here on my blog to spread love,happiness and awareness about Autism.The unique thing about written content is that it is applicable to people of all generations.

The Father And The Son

The father who had no money
saw a bike leaned against a wall
took his small son, put him on it
and went with him
several times around the block
Later, when he came back
to replace it
the bike owner slapped him hard
but the son was not there to see
so the dad's heart still sang inwardly
though his cheek was stinging red.