… Little bit immaterial to think about the prehistoric origin of noise that played a vital role as a forbear of music. Actuality was that a buzzing wave of noise was coming along with movement, rhythm, and sound so far to disperse life throughout the universe. Who is the tuner of that realm where noisy pitches could be changeable in musical harmony by following the gradual improvisation? God, He could be the first pianist who tuned this noise principle so that life could possible or everything could appear and extinct here just like the fine-tuned cord of the atonic piano. Or else something undefined causes as an intruder keep always busying itself fine-tuning the principle music of life with a variety of sharp major and minor octaves. Music is the mirror to consider the beginning of this entire creation as a continual whiff of cosmic waves of rhythm and noisy beats, along with attuned sound and movement… Continue reading Remarking Music ⇒ Kirno Sohochari
… What we see these are not enough, but what we feel when we see “these”, it might be more precious to realize the real essence of life. A real object always hides its originality as like Basho’s old pond. The duty of an artist could be there, he should jump into the pond to discover the hidden treasures by using his inner visionary. This is the spiritual journey of an artist… Continue reading When the image is born (Part-4) ⇒ Kirno Sohochari
… Only the geek knows cloggy hot days will back
just after the banishment of dried burflowers.
I hug my woman’s chin to remembering this.
Replacement of things is eternal… Cloggy sweat will appear again in my woman’s thin chin
The pigtailed burflower will dry by oozing its last raindrop.
Beauty is just for a funeral… Continue reading Wintry moments ⇒ Kirno Sohochari
… ‘Life’s appearance and omission in the world, its presence or absence from the surface, all these are nothing but an illusion of our dizzy mind. Images have born and dissolved into the surface but the essence of images remains even after the annihilation happened. This essence might be the prehistoric element that never dies and that’s why images are born over to repeat the tiresome jingle of life. Every new image is the resonance of old images; every newish venture somehow linked with the prehistoric ventures happened in the remote past. Images are the repeater of that ambiguity where nothing has gonna vanished for forever. Both poets painted the same imagery in a different context. They deliver the same message but the ways of contrasting images are different…This is the landing zone of art ‘where everything is seemingly over, where everything looked as if they omit in vain and none is there who can whisper that he exists to talk with the silence.’ Without this poetry cannot get its end and painting can never be born… Continue reading When the image is born (Part-1) ⇒ Kirno Sohochari
It does matter anything that, who gives to you in birth or who pounce you from the life? Does it really matter why you are in life and why you omitted in one day by the sudden beeps of crack? Really, oh yes, really it matters serious that you need to carry the life to prove your ability in life, that, you are not lonely, and excellent in innocence or very clever to cheat your own and be the others? Does it all necessary to carry, to remember, and to reminding your own and the others that, we need to conscious about the fate of crows, so cuckoos can never lay their eggs in crow’s nest?… Continue reading Crows are singing caw…caw ⇒ Kirno Sohochari
… Ai is straightforward. Her uneven wording once provoked me to see Oppenheimer’s face in my memory. I discovered him in the relics of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. He was standing there as dizzy and defaced. I saw him under the clouds of atomic relics, tried to hide his bleary face in isotopic dust. He looked stoical and inept for receiving the amazing gift of his scientific invention. I was calling him by his nickname; earnestly tried to remind him about Manhattan Project; however, the defaced man was not in responsive mode. He looked stoical, and soon fragmented by pieces in front of my eyes… Continue reading Cosmic nirvana and Ai’s “The Testimony of J. Robert Oppenheimer” ⇒ Kirno Sohochari
Night is starry and you shined like a dead star, looked throttled to hear the warning bell. River-wind soon entered your under-garments. You are vivid, hungered for a vivid eternity, turned in reddish for eternity, “Don’t talk nonsense. Enjoy the moonlight. I don’t see anything except the shiny stars. You confused everything. Shuts up, enjoy the beauty. I wished to keep this night memorable, so don’t raise silly words please.”… Continue reading Bewildered compromise in nightmare ⇒ Kirno Sohochari
What’s the identity we’ve my friend?
Is it, we’re nothing but a dealmaker,
lives and breathes here,
to prove that we’re alive?/… However, this is not everything my friend. A gray line is always existed over there. A “Circe Tune” is calling us to jump like the deadliest frog. Where? Destiny is yet unknown and nobody knows where the edge is and where to jump! Continue reading Lonesome Witchery⇒ Kirno Sohochari
The necessity of mathematics needed here to depict a pragmatic logical picture that was maybe more metaphysical in poetics and philosophy, but it doesn’t mean or ensure that the poet’s (and philosophers) imagination about reality is false and mathematical model is utterly true. We could say mathematical model sound better to reasoning the reality indeed. This is the “intersection” between poetry and mathematics, which JoAnne Growney mentioned in her blog-site’s refrain… Continue reading Intersection-reality: where poetry meets mathematics ⇒ JoAnne Growney’s post-contribution in Poetry with mathematics blog
It has strangers measuring each other.
With cold eyes.
Those eyes have seen eternities.
Decades of fumbling.
Maneuvering futile escapes.
Finding secret doors…. Continue reading There is very little in this room ⇒ Saurabh Rai’s post on “Poets Unlimited”