Tuesday, March 31, 2009

Die. And be quiet.

I'm not writing at the moment. It feels like a lapse of words in a way, almost like I have abandoned, neglected my ultimate need to be a part of the greater circle of creativity. Dryness. Aridity, a newfound state of being. Thirst arising from all of this.

It's quite a scary, empty feeling. Especially because I have been writing almost non-stop for a few months now, mostly August to Feb... And now just silence. The words rotate in a careless spiral in some kind of literary vacuum, waiting for a way to be strung together in a more ordered chaos.

Still, nothing.

That's when all the cryptic poetry becomes necessary, almost, in a mock effort to alleviate the constipation.

And ramblings such as this one... more mediocre verse and prose struggling to make words look like they know what they're doing on this dance floor, even as they serve only to step on toes and form lumps of lard in the mouth. At least still something to chew on, not so?

Bite. Munch. Chomp. Gulp.



Die. And be quiet.


Anonymous said...

:) hey hey, whether it is a block or boulder it sure will roll over wouldnt it and you are such a theif of words and moments, you'll steal em and make us a pretty picture...
for sure!

Azra said...

Reading this, I can guarentee that the words haven't left you :)

Even when you're in a slump you're still moer talented then any of us will ever be.

Rest. Thats what I say. And don't look at it as a drought.

Think of it as a well, and you're replenishing your soul as gathering your resources. The well will soon overflow.

KimyaShafinaaz said...

hmmm... two awesome women just gave me the ultimate vote of confidence... thanks :)

im not doing victim talk... jus trying to squeeeze the muse for some sweat and blood :P

its a compliment cos it comes from two really good writers, seher and azra. thanks, really!

KimyaShafinaaz said...

Inside this new love, die.
Your way begins on the other side.
Become the sky.
Take an axe to the prison wall.
Escape. Walk out
like someone suddenly born into colour.
Do it now.
You're covered with thick cloud.
Slide out the side. Die,
and be quiet. Quietness is the surest
sign that you've died.
Your old life was a frantic running
from silence.
The speechless full moon comes out now.