Skip to main content

No Entry for Children Beyond Age Ten.

There seem to be no kids anymore, that come at this park,
Only clandestine lovers that hold out for the dark,
There seem to be no more queues at these age old swings,
The scope of this place now means other things.

Nobody rakes fallen leaves, They don't fix the lawns,
Toy trains, spring planes are now all bygones,
On this broken see-saw, we sit, and we stare,
At the secrets these people, and this park now share.

I used to play here, I'm sure this wasn't the rule back then,
But no kids are allowed in now beyond the age of ten,
The end point of your boyhood, has become one decade,
I wish just a notch, they'd have - a little upgrade.

The city has now grown up. The city is in its youth,
On each corner in the park,
Upon each pine bark,
Is engraved, in hard letters, this new, grown-up truth.

The double bars are empty, There's no one on the jungle gym ,
This summer evening is sunny, and my old playspot is grim,
Hot air blows hard, in my eyes it stings,
I discover newer meanings of so many playthings.

Popular posts from this blog

angry

my grandmother used to spot in us a hereditary anger the chest learning to well up blood learning to leap and breath learning to crawl foreheads burning with heat of little children the attempt of anger to become disgusting raging energy that will occupy every living stream. nobody wants to hold an angry person rage drunk, getting bigger and bigger until other people are invisible like ants and you can dissolve them in your hot blood and things around you break and shatter at this point she would hold. a violent hand shaking her away Ya I remember my grandmother used to spot it in us as children already And hold our hand "until you get over your rage I will not let go of your hand"  hold VERY TIGHTLY "I will not leave your hand until you learn how you should calm down" i would fail despite that gesture  to understand what was happening and i could not receive love at that time because i have so much anger But the act she is doing is still that of HOLDING

लाल वस्तू

महाराजबागेतल्या गुंजेच्या झाडाखाली आईबरोबर बसून घालवलेल्या संध्याकाळी गुंजेचा पाला खाताना गुंजा वेचून, गोळा करून, घरी आणून सजवताना तशाच लाल गुंजांसारखे मखमली किडे पाळताना, त्यांना पावसाळ्यात पकडताना त्यांचा पाला गोळा करताना त्यांना लाजून गुर्फटताना बघताना, आईला दाखवताना मला थोडेच माहिति होते की हे अनुभव, आणि ह्या आठवणी कधी अशृ होतील आणि लाल शर्ट घालून त्या पावसाळ्याची आज तहान भागवावी लागेल

transitive

 i used to think the transitivity of verbs was like romance i (a subject) take you, or you take me (as an object) defined already through transitivity. i take you (there) or i take (missing) (missing) or i play (the piano) then i thought transitivity of verbs was like valence missing electrons in individual shells,  filled up by an incomprehensible spdf rhyme-scheme then i thought transitivity of verbs was illusory i present (you) with (thing) i present (you) to (infinity) i shower (you) with (love) i pointed (it) at (you) and that i could say i sleep you to dreams or otherwhere illusory. or the sevan kaarak classes i could fit any construction in a new logic i play (you) to (infinity) through (trees) in order (to sleep).   we can just use language however we please really and things that aren't understood now can still feel like something. a new action-class is always just around the next turn from use