la siesta

Drft...Wud

at .....
5:59 am
Monday


BARK !!

was all Benson Soren could utter as the grande valse fell like dew drops into the small glass aquarium bedroom. Brimful with aquamarine early morning deluge.Like a fish his hand swam in the morning ray deep into the river of NOKIA where the soul of Francisco Tárrega was trapped transformed into a fluttering nymph .Which was now jetting out Tárrega's gems in staccato of spitoons ,kicking up a schism in the silken Bernoulli of fresh morning air along the humane curves of his naked foil.
his fingers metamorphosed into shark tooth, tore 13-16 bars and had the nymph hacked gory by a sudden snap.


6:00 am Monday


BARK!!BArk...


was all he could cough up to the abstractions that trouble him at night.
As his mind dawdled off into a real sleep


Daily 6:00 am

was his hour of redemption.Ben truly enjoyed redemption like stuffs. He enjoyed this so much so that he resisted the pills with promise of dreams.Which he had in bucket full free & legal. In amounts you would find gold goblets at king solomons mine.
It was when he took out his vorpal blade hidden beneath his pillow.


Snicker !! Snack !!

with a swift blow he took those monsters down.


Oh ! how sweet it felt


as his tryst melted down into an amnesia of nectery sleep churrned up from the viscous bile in his deepest pits.Like the nymph breaking free of the frozen bars into a frenzied waltz.
Probably this was all he lived for.All the time after that ,its candy juice formed diamond strands.And all the time within the lattice ,the little yellow molecules, got closer and closer.
A gargantuan heat & brobdingnagian force built up to a cataclysmic proportion. Till the whole crystal castle collapsed into a sandstorm of golden wasp which stung his eyes like thousands spears squirting acids into the sore. So he could take it no more & closed his eyes ...........to wake up to the world

by 8:30 am

8:31 am

BARK !!! BARK !! BARK!! BARK....

he was hurtling down mad
into A Rash above the head-post
that read

'In the core of God's abysm,—
Was a weed of self and schism;'

from his
"Santhali" mother ....Long dead.......infected from a white magician.




NB :
WE ALWAYS HAVE LIFE EXPERIENCES OF VERY SHORT DURATION. MUNDANE DAILY OCCURRENCE THAT DON'T MAKE IT TO A STORY. DUE TO THEIR DAILY APPEARANCE. SAY LIKE A SUNRISE.BUT ARE OF IMMANENCE SIGNIFICANCE TO MAN DUE TO THEIR VITAL REPEATABILITY. IT IS SO MUCH HIS PART OF CHARACTER.IN-FACT SOMETIMES HIS WHOLE BEING.SO I TRIED TO WRITE ON THIS OSERVATION OF MINE.SINCE I DIDN'T COME ACROSS ANY SUCH TECHNIQUE BEFORE.SO I DONT HAVE A NAME FOR IT.TAKING THE RESPONSIBILITY OF AN INVENTER OF THIS TECHNIQUE.I CALL THIS STUFF
..................................................................................
MIDGETS
..................................................................................
THIS IS NOT A SHORT STORY OR A POETRY.
RATHER A SITUATION BUILDING UP EXERCISE
I GIVE YOU MY midget.
MY FIRST SHOT.
A WIDGET FOR MIND PLAY
GO PLAY...............