Klash of the Konfessioners

December 1, 2010


Filed under: Uncategorized — The Musketeers @ 4:54 pm



Painting by Trupty Somaiah, especially for Klash

1.a container or machine in which cream or milk is agitated to make butter.
2.any of various containers or machines similar in shape or action to a butter churn, as a device for mixing beverages.
3.British. a large milk can.
4.an act of churning stocks by a stockbroker.
–verb (used with object)
5.to agitate in order to make into butter: to churn cream.
6.to make (butter) by the agitation of cream.
7.to shake or agitate with violence or continued motion: The storm churned the sea.
8.(of a stockbroker) to trade (a customer’s securities) excessively in order to earn more in commissions.
–verb (used without object)
9.to operate a churn.
10.to move or shake in agitation, as a liquid or any loose matter: The leaves churned along the ground.
11.(of a stockbroker) to engage in the practice of churning.
—Verb phrase
12.churn out, to produce mechanically, hurriedly, or routinely: He was hired to churn out verses for greeting cards.

Mandappa (89)

An artist’s biggest obstacle isn’t the block
it’s in the act of execution
the wallowing in mediocrity before the moment of perfection

tempers will flare, blood will boil
time will slow and fade and disappear
tantrums lost and with it sanity, just moments before revelation

pieces will tear as hearts will break
emotions will rise, frustration beware
and through the chaos will clarity shine bright

failure will be tasted, a bittersweet memory
as we churn through the universe
of thoughts and wrongs, before tripping on the magic of creation.

Utsav (100)

“Lost deep in my thoughts,
my eyes rolled with the thing in front of me,
I was feeling sleepy already,
it was a sad end to the morning glee.

I think I was just bored,
’cause no one around me moved,
was looking at the horizon,
though the naive sight reproved.

Running across the meadow,
here people could barely walk,
could feel the wind brush my hair,
although the air is so still in the block.

Suddenly the traffic broke,
as I heard a lot of engines burned,
wow I think I was hypnotized,
by the concrete trucks that churned.”

Genuine Fake (116)

Images of you in my mind,
Churn up illusions of a different kind,
Some sober, some unrefined
Snapshot to snapshot, well affined

Your eyes, of much gravity and allure,
Your lips, attract many a thought impure,
Your touch, it slowly conjures
The very soul of mine, my faith cure.

You don’t see me like this though,
All of me, you did outgrow,
And while you walk away with another beau,
You leave me nothing, but an everlasting woe.

And so on these cold evenings,

Images of you, they assault my mind,
Churning up emotions of a different kind..
I snap back with a startle and find,
Alas you remain, as a figment of my feeble mind…

Sarang Mahajan (120)

At the bottom of a lake lives a lonely crocodile
His teeth weak and blunted, his claws fragile
Sprawling at the bottom, he thinks of a long while back…
When he would catch a bull clean and his tail would whip and whack

Can I still churn the lake, like lovely, old days?
And still scare humans in my elegant ways?
His days of glory remind him of his wife
The lady he would impress, the love of his life

He soars out the water, to give it another try
And a wimpy kid with a paperboat runs away with a cry
Croc smiles wide, whistles a happy sigh
‘This one’s for you, Sweetie,’ he says looking at the sky

DayTripper (116)

It started with an intro like no other,
a tease of piano melting into deep strings.
A drum beat takes it a notch further,
from nowhere a turntable reaches out to speed things.

A klash of the instruments as diverse as the listeners,
not a beat skipped but the heartbeats did.
Played together like they were meant for each other,
goosebumps erupted and minds spinned.

The audience looked down,
to see their mind’s contents spill.
Which merged together
and formed a wave pool of thrill.

The music brought out their beating hearts,
a conductor with his baton began churning.
He churned their hearts till they curdled into one,
churned it till it was bright and burning.

Nandini Sen (102)

A witty saying knocks in my mind. Three adjectives, two verbs, and an exclamation spring up to support it. A half story stirs up, an idea starts to simmer. I wrench open the garnishing box of pun and humor, and few drops tumble out.
All this I put in the pot and try to churn out a tale month after month on Klash.
And now, when it is time to churn out the Churn – kaput. Just nothing. My pot is empty, the fire doesn’t burn. Looks like the winter has frozen my mind. So this month for Klash I churn out nothing.

DokSaab (120)

Several thoughts were piercing my head,
some comforting, some frightening.
Down five years in this relationship,
I wasn’t sure whether he loved me,
Or not.
He was avoiding me for the past week.
He said he’d talk to me later.
Was he really busy?
Or just fed up with me?
Was he seeing another girl?
Why has his FB status changed
from “Committed” to “It’s complicated”?
Why did he go this far if he wasn’t serious?
Should I tell him about my pregnancy?
Or get it aborted, and move on.
Can’t decide.
This turbulence was splitting my head.
The noise was deafening.
I hit the switch.
The blender stopped churning.
Cream and froth was spilled all over the table.

Santonu (102)

I stood there! The serene river flew in silence; the tall standing trees greeted me with the endless noise under the incessant rain. Why can’t it stop, why can’t all stop! My journey finally came to a halt, and I am tired now. I ran and traveled around the world in the quest for some affection which is pure; pure honesty from relationships, churning out the word priority from busy days and churn out some love. I failed miserably and now wonder why I started running! Why this river, the trees and the wind resemble life, ….i want them to stop… now!

Dream-Weaver (108)

A whoosh of her long eyelashes and she looks straight at me
My mind whirls and my heart skips a beat
Her eyes are full of secret promises
That fill my body with such heat

Can it happen? Can it be true?
My pulse race and my feelings are all a churn
It has been such a long time apart
Yet with this intense longing I burn

For 10 yrs we have gone our separate ways
Does she feel the same…filled with desire?
This chance meeting…memories of a shared past
Can it rekindle our fire?

My emotions churning…I reach out fearing rejection
Fingertips touch, hands entwine…its instant conflagration!!


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