I’m Not a Rapist.

My masculine impulses, covertly drives
A rapist desire
fleshy Appetite for fleshy devour
Intoxicated
As you supposed me
I think
Is not only truth.

A truth, neither you know I can escape
Of Symbiosis existence of us
For procreate
On this enormous Earth.
Approaching closer to you
Is not beastly to prey you
Nor I am drawn by your musk alike fragrance
But compassion
Which rules my conscience
And bears emotions
From embryo to infancy
And further attaining youth
Receiving your cozy love
Makes me A Man.

My sojourn inside you
Makes me realize
‘ I am not a lusty one but a companion.’
I’m turned gentle, tender and generous
Owing you
Your Womanliness.

Thank you- feeling grateful29103242_1701741279918374_293637795811950592_n
Dear love- in many ways.

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The catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger

 

Another engaging classic story, such a crawling reading made me away from Holden’s stream of consciousness narratives. Honestly, I did not understand story completely, sometimes I slipped the page due to missing bookmark, sometimes I took it while sitting somewhere and people called me, and my hectic typing sometime struck my conscience and postponed it further.
As the stream of consciousness genre always remains interesting plot to read for me. However, the much I did understand Holden; he remains such a funny, hypocrite character throughout his narrative. He always believes himself superior of all and calls everyone ‘phony’ that makes him funny. It is story of a young teenage who thinks who knows everything. He always thinks beyond while truth is he behaves just like an iceberg- most part of things he misses because of his exaggerating and excess of egotistic nature. Sometimes I imagine, teaching in class or walking in corridor of the school has presented many more Holden before me. Obviously, I will through it again in anticipating vacation. And his hilarious dialogue can’t stop you without making you laugh like ‘Makes sure you marry someone who laughs at the same things you do’
Next I’m busy with another story sort of Bildungsroman genre, John’s ‘Looking for Alaska’, and most probably I might complete Dickens’ masterpiece “David Copperfield’ which I has left incomplete.
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SELF-SEEKING

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…still I quest you

Trailing

In the pages of my life

From where we turned

And lost our ways

I retrospect.

Look- we stand still there

At our place

Along with our sinister ego

Having unconscionable HEART

Speculating

-who should address first

Though we sigh, oft, three magical words

To each other

Long since.

Teacher and Taught

 

A child is just an illiterate, uncultivated and crude material, born in a world of vain desires, irrevocably rat- rally under the burdens, confined in a room, having been curved of their wing of imagination.
Then, I was a child, studying in village primary school, could escape in mango garden to play in recesses along a throng of my cozy friend, never imagined, we were last generation of happy childhood. Teacher taught us, counseled telling stories, reciting fairy tales covertly passed moral by those fables on Saturday afternoon, sitting under tree which firmly settled deep inside of our psyche. And more over, evening game in the yard of village big mason, lying in grandma’s lap, believed moon was running above the stagnant cloud and interminably asked orderly people until they tired of my reason and fancy which was floating in enormous sky unlike gazing in screens.
Anyway, I can’t weep of those past. Past brings always a sweet memory.

But here I talk about teacher, taught and parents relationship. These three are the pillar of any society. But nowadays, a third person has intruded in their territory stealthily and monitoring them being remain absent of scenario. He is absent but omniscient in their every decision.

I did my school, college watching my teachers, framed an ideal image of this profession. But after spending more than two years in teaching, I reach to conclusion that those ideological utopian imageries were just an imagery or truth, I don’t know now. But for present, it’s changed.

Mostly schools of this era is just a factory, children for them a product, parents are costumer and teacher is everything except teacher. Irony, this poor creature doesn’t know he is transformed into something else who is buried under clerical works.
A child is just like a barren field, a teacher is like firm, devoted and kind farmer who can transcend any lands into a fertile field. But nowadays, former commits suicides if he is interrupted in his job and deprived of his needs. If anyhow, a former has breathed his last, then, field produces mere thorny plant.

For better crops, farmer and field both should be needed liberty, nurture and proper caring. For both are complements for each other and report card of any society.
So better if rather focusing on rising graph, people focus on rising value in kids, one can set a better future. Neither picture is clear before us- a wilderness of education. You will have educated products but lose education.

Sweating Holidays

Five days had spent subsequently in typing, rewriting and editing, a bit in reading. I hadn’t gone out of house I’m living in now. After completing chapters, I had assigned before holidays, it gives a pleasing experience, inspire me do more dexterously. Waiting for another weakened, another spare hours, another time to be free from hired burden….waiting!!!