Friday, August 3, 2007

The prose-poems of Shyamli Panda

What if you had nothing inside of you… not even an empty space… just… nothingness?

However much you try to feel profound and deep, all you reach is a point in your soul which feels violated. By you. Because suddenly you realize that you’ve been fooling yourself all along. After all the time you tried SO hard to be different… special... you realize that you’re just empty and vast. Just like everyone else. Ghosts of memories strolling around inside of you… and that’s all. You’re nothing but a memory of what was… or what you thought there was.

And what if those memories are lies too… just like the lie you’re leading everyone to believe you are.

I guess an introduction is at hand right now.

I am a perception of me. I could even be you. I am just another teenager who tries to be tragic and beautiful or even tragically beautiful. I’ve spun a golden web of lies which is adorned with pearl-drop shines of madness.

How I got love and affection and threw it away. Again and again. Just like you… I have a self-destruct button that I have unwittingly pressed… and I can hear the ticking of the bomb drawing closer.

“This is the end, my only friend” strains of The Doors are floating in from the other room. That’s probably how I started off writing this book in the first place… I guess the music transported me to another one of my imaginary worlds. It held for me a false hope of finding within me something much more than just an anorexic, bulimic, delirious, messed up girl. There really isn’t. I’m a superficial fucked up teenager. I’m NOT different. I’ve taken a sip from the well of insanity and I’m definitely not the only one.

Have you ever had one of those moments when your own thoughts scare you? When you realize that you might be a little more twisted, dark, selfish, cynical and sadistic than jack the fucking ripper?... well I’ve encountered such moments almost every single day of my life. What’s REALLY scary is the fact that not only have I gotten used to these feelings… I feel lost without them.


Jaime stared.


Yawned and looked away.

Strange how things had worked out for him.

For everyone.

Well at least he’d finally gotten laid… the FAST traaaiiin out this pathetic village of virginity.

The … uh… SEX… basically. It felt like a lot more though. Mmmm mmmm.

So what if sweet little “Joanna” had actually turned out to be John the janitor… right?

A cup - a – Joe in the hand,,, sitting in the trash can… BREEAAATHE… fuuuuuuuuhhhh…. Exhale.

The cigarettes didn’t do much for the stomach which was empty to the point of caving in… but the coffee was taking his mind off the fact that he now looked like one of those kids… in the Photographs…

FUCK!!! Can't remember… with the big heads… and the more than visible bone structure…

WITH A VULTURE BESIDE IT!! YESSS. Oh yes… that’s the one.

Africa? India?... Mars??

Who the hell cared?.. he was too hungry to care about the details.

Inhaling the pungent staleness around him… he shut his eyes and wondered how Hailey was doing …

SOMALIA!! That starving kid was from… Somalia?? Aw to hell with that shit.

This wasn’t working… he needed food.

Put a lid on the can. Walk towards that FAT kid with the sinfully large corndog in his hand…

It would be helping him… now we don’t want him choking on his own blubber now do we?


“I have to save that kid from the dangers of obesity.”

A strange temptation to kill the flabby bastard child and store the meat surged his tingling hands till he shook it off.

“Still making amends for the last time I killed someone.”

So he simply grabbed the kid by his hair.. noiselessly dragged him back to his alley and knocked him unconscious.

Swet and shiny mr. james… smooth. Anyhow, check his pockets.

Five dollars… a packet of oreos… twizzlers and a half eaten PIZZA SLICE?? And jesus motherfuh… A WISHBONE!!

The parents must HATE this one… look at his eyes bulging outta the sockets.

Shaking his head… felling real sad… Jaime stuffed his mouth with the grub without even chewing the goddamned food.

Pulling a trash bag over his head he trampled the water laden pavement as the raindrops shattered everything… everywhere… around him.

Corndog in hand … a cuppa Joe in the other.

He walks away.

The Second part

Yes, memories do come back to haunt you but so do… ah fuck trying to be deep.

I’m Jaime… I induldge in petty crimes… rapes, assault and murder.

Actually I was driving to a point before…

Memories haunt you… but boredom haunts you twice as much. But what's worse is that it doesn’t stop there… it whispers and screams and mocks and cries and weeps till you plunge into the compulsive agony of having to SOMETHING!!

ANYTHING but sitting on your ass and doing whatever you were doing before.

Whether it's eating compulsively… or fighting with whoever comes your way… masturbating… having intercourse with your pet dog/cat/ animal… or just fatally injuring yourself or your best friend.




Never as dark, never less azure,

Were these valleys where I had walked before.

We’d trembled as the moon waxed and waned

as we treaded through the mud and rain.

The shadowy, whispering wooden nights

had been the haunting of many a sights,

a piercing scream from a little girl aboard

the ship of wrath, the tempest and gold,

the dew on the lash of the crimson doe,

a whirlwind of footsteps that knocked on my door,

in these valleys where I had walked before.

A Jester, you sat on this smouldering floor,

laughing and wailing like never before

and as you wept a silent tear,

you whispered “the end has come too near.”

You told me then the tales

of this very- find a better word, and nothing more

Of the valleys where I had walked before.

I remembered I tried to fly that night.

The very words had filled me with fright.

And so you held my hand and showed

an unseen, barren, broken road

of the times left behind by many more

in these valleys where I had walked before.

Now years and more have faded away.

Still I hold you near and wish you’d stayed.

And the little girl still tugs at my hands,

telling me of her neverlands.

Walk on, she says, there is more to tell -

This isn’t where my marbles fell.

The Ferris wheel had spun that plight,

a spindle, a spool and my very life.

So I sigh and I step on and try all my might

And I promise I won't cry tonight.

Not for you, the lake or the lovely lore…

In these valleys where I had walked before.


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