THAT SUBMARINE FEELING

May 3rd, 2009, Wilderness

The room is dark as a deep, black, night
And the eerie, cold, blue colors from the mute television dance silently upon my face
They play on my face, getting past my half closed eyelids and whispers to me
I’m afraid now


My name is Ronnie S Ray. I’m twenty five, male, Scandinavian (kidding)
I work for a multinational by day and write poetry at night
I am a closet filmmaker too. I look like Wes Anderson
I love the Beatles. I like reading anything by Salinger
Six hundred and twenty seconds ago, I consumed hundred milligrams of prussic acid
It kills usually in an hour but if taken on an empty stomach; a lot sooner
My writings should not be construed as a suicide note, however


I’m not delirious. At least, not yet
I’m sane
I’m not dead also yet
Just feeling submarine


I sip my last cup of tea
The steam rises lazily from the cup and arouses memories of my childhood
Winnie’s memories
And that spent- together winter in Manali, our one getaway
Oh the heart yearns
For those times
When the morning skies were bluer
The nights painted a thousand colors
The dark, cloudy, languid afternoons
Tempestuous in a way that was never the same again
Greedy lipsRenaissance eyesBlue skies
And the tea on the porch
Some days, Amit and Lavanya used to come over
Mon Amour Winnie


I don’t miss your face, your hands or even your scandalous lips
But I quite miss your eyes
I search for them in every person I meet;
Alone,
in a crowd,
in every stranger,
in every sudden smile,
in every furtive nod of head,
in every vigorous handshake,
in every flirtatious gaze,
in every helpful look,
in every word of admiration
But I haven’t found you again,
Yet
So I tried incarnating you in inferior others
I continue reliving you through my writing,
in every word they make,
in every turn they take,
in every truth they decipher
in all the pain they evoke
You used to love words
No one but you, could cause such bloodshed through a single sentence
Except Harold Pinter of course
And perhaps Mamet as well…..


I imagine seeing you and I imagine speaking to you
Why did you love me?
Because you actually liked me
And my allegedly irresistible dimples
Winnie
To you- I bequeath my writings
And your terrifying yarns which I listened to bravely,
Not because I looked for the truth in them
But because I looked on them as racy, unputdownable novels
Of course, also because I loved you


But what if this present
Were the World’s last night?In the setting sun, your love fadedDied in the moonlight
The earth is dying every day and we do not notice it.
I know now that time would end
After tomorrow at sunrise
It would not catch me unawares
Time is what keeps the light from reaching us.The fathomless abyss of the void of life
For our time is the passing of a shadow
Our name will be forgotten
In timeNo one will remember our work
Our life will pass like the traces of a tear


I’m not going to tell you why.
Whatever be my reasons, they are mine-
My own, private, Idaho
But do not think for one second that my reasons are not legitimate
Do not judge me
A hundred and forty people die every day in road accidents in Bombay alone
The truth is there is no logic to life
Or to the big questions of life
And about the universe in general
Why are we here?
Where do we go?
Should I be doing what I’m doing?
You see, it doesn’t matter what you do
Aristotle said that
Or did he? Or was it the other fellow?
Anyway, this will be my last poem
Before I die


CUT TO:
The face of Winnie
Her perfumed, long, black tresses (with an abundance of brown in them)
Now visualized as she sat opposite me on that twilight terrace
The strands shimmer for a second and then


FADE AWAY:
To the smiling face of my nanny Eva
Bones sinking like stones. Oh, all that we had fought for….
My transvestite sister
Elevator music spawns
Memories evoked
Memories relived
Memories
Slipstreams of consciousness
The image is a prison of the soul
The camera flash
Old photographs
Folded
Moth-eaten
Torch lit
YellowedLike my yellow infection
The doorbell buzzing or my imaginationLazy days, gazing by the window
Looking out for the last time
The sky blue butterflySways on the orchidLost in the warmth
Of its blue green hazeNow, I wish I had not consumed the powder


Senses scrambled like (sorry, can’t think of a simile, my bad)
In here, it is as quiet as a tomb.
Here I am again in the waiting room.
Waiting for my name to be called:
“Prisoner no. 1883”
I have no friends now who are not dead or dying.
HB killed himself - how did he do it? I never asked.
I was afraid to know, even if it meant never finding the truth
And here I am incognito
I am scared to walk into the labyrinth


I say to myself
“Open your eyes”
My pupils dilate like blue velvet unfolding
My mind is going. I can feel it. I can…..feel…..it. I can f…e…..e……l……i……t


MORPH TO:
Two light bulbs
Dimly illuminate
These flaking walls
And the fridge is defrosting
Indescribably grim
The doctor said
Well of course
‘It is terminable’
A drift of empty snowflakesWhiting out memory

Across my bed, as a fetal JesusI lie hereFanned by the billowingSails of forgotten shipsTossed by the mournful winds
Of the lost VoicesI look forward to
Sleeping foreverIn a dear embraceSalt lips touchingIn my submarine stateThe flavor of herDead good lookingIn beauty's springHer blue denimsAround her ankles

All my notes are muddled
But I know
I have so many unrequited dreams
(How does one dream?
Acetylene neurons fire high voltage impulses into the forebrain and these impulses form pictures.
But why only those pictures?
No one knows)


I wanted to run away with a beautiful girl as the world came to an end
And we’d build a log cabin by a lake near the mountains
I wanted to live on a hill station too and have sex with a native, nubile, very young girl. Just kidding… or am I?
I wanted to see my mother. I never knew her. I killed her. In labor
I wish my father would forgive me
I wanted things to work out with Winnie


I also wished I had saved a beautiful girl from dying and that she would fall in love with me because of this.
I also wanted to tell you that I did indeed love you.
I wish I were immortal.
I wish I could live again.
I wish that I never had that argument with my grandfather


I wish that John Lennon didn’t die
That ‘The Wonder Years’ never ended
That my dog didn’t die when I was five
I wished I could take a day off from work and fall in love with a schoolgirl
I wish I had read more books and learnt how to play bridge


I wish I had spoken to my father more pleasantly and more often.
I wish I had met Aniruddha when I was home last time
I wish I could play the guitar properly
I wish I had made more movies
I wish we never had to work


I always wanted to be a station- master for railways when I was in sixth grade
I still do
I wanted to fuck my aunt when I was in the sixth grade
I still do


I wish I could read all the Archies in the world. And Tintin
I wanted to be immortal…have I already told you that?
I wish I could befriend the woman in Payne’s Paris je ‘taime and take her to all the places she wanted to be.
I really wish her to be happy
I’d love to die in the arms of my lover, a romantic notion I know


I wish I could fly.
(My father had a fear of heights. I think I don’t. I want to experience the fall. Imagine how it would feel to have the wind blow into your face as you tumble down a cloud lapped skyscraper)
I wish I could hear Duran Duran’s ‘Come Undone’ now
(I could’ve listened to it yesterday but for some reason I didn’t. And I thought I’ll listen to it today. But…)


And I want to know who killed JFK
How the Pyramids were built?
What is the Bermuda triangle?
Is there life after death?
Who was Jack the Ripper?
What became of DB Cooper?
What did Bob say to Charlotte at the end in Lost in Translation?


I wanted to be famous
I wanted to fuck someone famous
(Life has made us such perverts. I can be forgiven as I can’t even type properly anymore)


I wish I could go back in time and live my life all over again
Can I replay my most favorite moment and live in it forever?
I want to go on a long drive with you in the rain….
Back to Manali
You know that beautiful stretch of road that leads into the valley?
Where the tunnel shaped trees are?
There are days when I’ve driven by that place
And I’ve always wanted to hold your hand on all those days
It’s impossible for me to be happy without being sad at the same time.
I can’t enjoy a sunset without thinking
That it could’ve seemed better had you been with me


If I ever get out of this, let’s never fight again. It’ll never be as much fun
I wish I could eat pastries and apple pies but I’m allergic to eggs
I wish no one would die of hunger in this world
I wish I had infinite wishesWhen you’re dying, you realize that your life ha