GarySteele

THEOTHERSIDE

THE OTHER SIDE

THEOTHERSIDE

GarySteele

First published in this edition in 2012 by Wishbone

Cover picture, Hotline, by AlexAuthor photograph by Asif KhanPut together by Joseph Pottenkulam

Printed and bound by ________________________________________________________________________

All rights reserved© Gary Steele, 2012

www.wishbone.in

To all the lovely folkswho have been, and are, a part of my life.

And to all the alcohol consumed while writing this.

Running on fullmadness in the flirtatious air I breathe, the mindsleeves; transparent.

Hopeless ways and pure thoughts, love was never the problem, the thicklayer of aphrodisiac vapour; the quest.

Words and tunes of crazy times mostly enjoyed, now plays a sad, sad song of solitaire.Solitaire on a blackjack table.

Silly beliefs and marinated brains, faces with death wishes written all over.A canvas.A canvas of emotions.

LIVECANVAS

Blue birds make me feel alive, kissing the sunny skies.When I see strange squares.

The devil plays on the innocent back, how far will you go? Far enough to whisper sweet nothings of war?

Times you drag me into your beliefs.Into your sad little world of tears.

Knot tied; a noose around my neck.Hanging in my square world.

SQUARES

The concrete beckons,calls my name in the dark.Immune to the noise,yet I'm a cat on a red hot roof-top.

Wings and kisses seem right.Satisfying, also... at times.Content is a wordwith a definition lost.

afreesoul

Gliding on a stream of promises,sliding in a world of madness. Words;they don't come any harder than this. Shoulder to shoulder, skies reached.

Turbulence met with fire and a bit of organised chaotic insanity.The birds in the trees; oh, yes, they saw it too.They sang a tune to celebrate it.

Playing tic-tac-toe vertically on concrete walls, the drums’ outré always gave way. As far as the next track started, the pigs in the sky saw it; they even questioned it.

Crossroads, lakes and smoked out rooms.Was just a boat, the same one that floated with the tide,at times sailed far. Far and wide, deep into the sea,just like those red sky dreams. Conscious minds, they saw it.

Now, here they stand embracing it, all over a cigarette that needed to be lit.

unlitcigarettes

It’s the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine, said a genius.I'll try and make you see it that way,I'll keep a check on the line.

I'll read the poetry, you'll sit in the crowd and wait for me to be done, then ask what it meant.

I'll write and you'll wait for the end; the seamstress of the song and the self loathing poet, both dancing to their own tunes. Synchronized.

synchronised

Sunlight sings its glory, intoxicated in the fumes of last night; my skin retracts, blanket to the rescue.

The thin, black, smoking lavalies there waiting to attack my innards;my hand gives in;the night is finally over, sadly.

Flies, sit about in my living room.Me, with a paper bundled up. Kill one and harmony lives; the eternal secret of lifejust escaped Pandora's box.

Buzzers and buzzes, songs and monkeys’ chatterall bring my rooftop down.Hibernation, fear draws for me, switched lives with a fly.

flies

Faded into the skies, despair written all over my lies. Lazy life and broken bones, deceit and filth: my home.

Messages in bottles, laughter in green pastures, they escaped and ran into a wall, currents of hope stuck like glue.

High, I can't seem to reach, Dry, helplessly I drown. My existence questioned, our gift - murdered.

murdered

The revolution. The welfare lines. He had them all figured out. He had them all begging for him. The tables turned, yet he sat at the head of it all.

Spacey trains.The stench of vegetable stew. Pickled grapes. And, oh!Li'l Lucy was his date. He was in bed with her, she was plain twisted. He clenched his fists and not a tear got ahead of him.

Life in the fast lane. Faster than he asked for. A young man, on his ritualistic end. The engines revved and the siren spun its colour.He was always ahead of the honks.

corporalamazing

Lost in a drugged mind, what the fuck am I supposed to do? My feet hurt like a bitch, where the fuck am I supposed to go?

Guess what? I love you. Guess who? Well now you know. Nickel sprinting across the city, Catholic churches and the man's halls.

My mind feels sick,what the fuck am I supposed to do? My feet hurt like a bitch, where the fuck am I supposed to go?

Tales of the son o’ bitch, who stole your life and stories of delusionary lies,all wound up in the madness, all grown in to mouldy mushrooms.

Looking for my mind, what the fuck am I supposed to do? My feet hurt like a bitch, where the fuck am I supposed to go?

Fresh under six feet of fists of anger,bitterness and sorrow, lies my mind, lies my past.With it, unanswered questions and unfinished battles.

My mind feels sick, what the fuck am I supposed to do? My feet hurt like a bitch, where the fuck am I supposed to go?

mymind

It was a slow, slow day,emotions wired for loving.Long-distance calls were of the past.

Parties missed for a quiet shower,sleep and a bone to pick; the ingredients dissolveda nuclear weapon armed.

Bittersweet love, dead. And some flowed,not without a distorted embrace.Heartbreak hotel, scrambled eggs and lovewas breakfast down south.

It was a crazy, crazy night,emotions wired for loving.Long-distance calls were of the past.

wiredfor

loving

Caught in a timeframe, lost in a gramophone.Mime me, would you?Even if I asked?

Circles around, purple played with pink. And pink sat back and had herself a blast.

Stretched like rubber, purple wanted not, but got.Evolving circles. Switch off. The end. The switch.

theswitch

Those dark saucer eyes,those red lenses, a deflowered sign,high proximity fumes cry,ash on pink flesh; crime of that time.

Making it your own, moulding it right,looking for a lost sense,trails that caress the edge.

Clamped and clipped, a distractionsmothered by daylight,situations on my scars, madness in a released frustration.

Making it your own, moulding it right,looking for a lost sense,trails that caress the edge.

caressthe

edges

Change a little, just a little,looking at a warm plate,reasons to be herestatic rays seal our fate.

Looking out at the oceanconnecting stars in the sky,whispering sweet nothingsabout the capitalist lies.

Sides, we make it;animated mornings shine;sleep-entwined shadeswith the black and white we dine.

Shy brides still marry;their hearts, disguised.in their minds, guns.A little speck on the fries fingered.

black‘n’

white static

You said the travelling got you sleepy.You turn away, driving me crazy,on the edge. The wind was too strong.

If I fell, you were supposed to go with me.Must've been the plan then, when you were down‘Cause I'm drowning here in the heartache.

You said goodbye, before you walked out.The wind smiled in the warmth of the room.You thought you set me free. You thought wrong.

thefall

Amputated emotions sing a tune, dancing around in a circle, disturbing those butterflies in me.

I try to jump as high as I can, hanging on to the memories of yesterday.Gravity has other plans: knee-deep in the garden of roses.

The moon watches me tonight, with a glow that reminds me of the sun.Bags were packed, leaving behind amputated emotions.

amputatedemotions

Tunes of yesterday become tunes of today.Love, they said.Last night's favourite museis today's old news.

Shifting shapes if you must tag,driving a one-way street.Happiness Avenue's the name,never to be found in this game.

Alienated madness stand static.Cry baby, turned bull.Anonymous, is this writer.One day, a page in your lonely planet.

thetravellers

Hey hey, li'l ladystop to pick up the soapdry me good, raise me nicenicotine-flavoured spring

Hey hey, li'l ladysing me a song of sweetnesslay me with a sardonic rhymebittersweet endings; blissful times

li’llady

Nothingness. Speechless. Dead.Love. Collage. Death.Silence. Tensed. Hope.Plus. Minus. Zero.Conversation. Un. Born.

unborn

intensive. intent.lost. bubbles.thoughts. pins. silence.

want. need.journey. nice.words. stars. voice.

circular. you.atmosphere.transparent. confusion.

‘.’

I refuse to soak up the sun.It's for the weak.For the ones scared of the dark.I'll play my games in my dark roomwhilst I sing subliminal verses,and you play merrily in the sun.

moonkillsun

Crusted magazines. Beauty set aside. Thumbs Up. Anal Dances. Little promises. Broken.Dead stars in the night. Come Alive.Tales of yesterday. Flowers for tombstones. Dead pop star.

deadpop

star

Another day,another thought, another moment.Just waiting to be lost. Just waiting to be drowned.The thought today is one: my oldest relationship.

She's hot as fire, lying up against me, skin on skin.Maybe she likes me,maybe she's really into me.

She loves me,she's my slave, my toy, my longest-known love.I get rid of her; she comes crawling back,on all fours, begging for my attention.

She has her pros, and has her cons,never left unpunished.She's mine.She's the virus in me.

myvirus

Sleeping with ghostsevery waking hour;a missing link; frozen in time.

Existence questioned,life sang the tune of happiness. Once.Scrapped beautiful innocence,mending just a start.

Sleeping with ghostsevery waking hour;a missing link; frozen in time.

sleeping with

ghosts

Yesterday, she had nothing for me.Today, she walks on by me.With her nose up in the air.

Drinking for old times' sake,rock 'n' roll was for the present.She does a line with me.Standing first, we danced for old times' sake.

Just to see how it felt.The guilt killed us, long ago in the hills.She had nothing for me. I had nothing.We were there for old times' sake.

forold

times’sake

The music of the river flowing,arm around waist, holding hands,nervous energies rise from butterfliesfreedom captivated in an embrace.

For old times, we talk,lost in time, lost in time,for old times we talk.

The glazed mountain tops chime.Monkeys chatter, hot on a rooftop.Locked in a moment of eternitybehind bars, playing notes...

For old times, we talk,lost in time, lost in time,for old times we talk.

oldtimes

Belly button piercingIn a gravyContraceptive Cuckoldry Pleasure.

Little birdy got a crazy whistleCheese StewSexually Transmitted measures.

soulfood

Hey! Come, my friend,I show you real India;was his calling.

Hey! Phoren man!Come here, Indian beauty here;was her calling.

Born of a flower, left to wallow.The city's right door,right door on the left.A book of secrets, with smiles and a journey

california

Transformation, on the audio horizon;plastic bulbs of gold-dustscreamed in terror; the snap trip!

Far out and beyond the far awaythousands of years; visionary madnesslow moans and an accelerated elevation!

Missed silence, the world away;the diligence of the unknown shrinestands robbed of its privacy at the congregation!

Phase one, fast forwarded to second phase;closer to the left, never seemed right;for down the middle was the Bermuda triangle!

Travels through mazes would seem square;red roots in the air; chutes boiled;radioactive waves. McOle Cloudy boy!

mColecloudy

boy

She watches on an innocent voyeuristic modethe smile of satisfaction on her lipstears, a scar, a hidden sense

Eggs and horizons play rocky raccoongrips of linen, nothingshe screams, come by tide, come in me‘em surfers don't know your strength

she:the

voyeur

Session OneOne to dissolve youTwo to smile at you againThree to strike up a conversationand Four to give you a hug

Session TwoOne to forgive myselfTwo to chip away at the old stoneThree to beg you for a cigaretteand Four to kiss you

Session ThreeOne to forgive youTwo to get me the taste of cinnamonThree to get me some plasticityand Four to get myself on my knees

Session FourOne to get us a toast to perfectionTwo to get us both smashed,Three to fall asleep in your armsand Four to forget all four sessions

sessiondrinking

Bugs under my skin gonna save me, gonna save mebugs under my skinen route to needles and escapades

Bugs under my skinrun run run they're all descendingbugs under my skinI'm gonna see you through

bugsunder

myskin

Rabbit, RabbitWhy'd you have to pick up?Why, a dogs name?’Em dreams fell like splinters.They shattered like glasspieces of chorus of enchantment.

Hands set free from tidal waves,demands were made and attained,heat like razor sharp fingertips,insults in the name of love,smiles in the name of need.Sounded like the chorus of enchantment.

A fragmented torsomangledin mounds of pleasure and touches white lies; under the moonlit skies, souls adjoined; in unity andfate and hope, a worldwas lost in the chorus of enchantment.

Nature took over,sunrise called uponbefore time, before its call of duty.Denial of nicotine, new formed pillows,broken moments and sad times.The hurting was lost in a spiral.And it’s called the chorus of enchantment.

chorusof

enchantment

What be of this? Nothing.What be in that? Emptiness.How many times more? Zilch.

Bow down to the ground,see the reflection of the skiesin the cold marble below fall away.Walk away, far away. Far, far away.Glimpses of reflections remain.

Trapped down in my heart,pictures form a haze in my mind.Drugs and booze, can't see clear,sweet despair and seeking a lie,all within a hand’s reach.The two of you deserve each other

What be of this? Nothing.What be in that? Emptiness.How many more times? Zilch!

zilch

Traced tattoos;clipped finger-tips;no-name DJ as canvas;beer bottle as disguise.

Words clear, yet not;lips locked, not;necks mangled, twisted;poetry and mirrors: our past.

Neon lights, blinding;abuse and curtains drawn;learned curses and weaknesses;mystery and keys: our present.

Happiness came out to play;know and known to; mayhem;tears dried and smiles lit;poetry, mirrors and mysteries: our future.

ofpoetry,mirrors

andmysteries

How many times have I been here?How many times have I had nothing to say?How many times have I finished with something?How many times has it been worth it?

How many times will I see a crazy tune?How many times will it take to get that masterpiece?

How many times must I see that white static screen?How many more times?

staticwhitescreen

Wind chimes by the sea,by the window; in my world.No clue as to when and where this will end.

On pins and needlesThe taste is sweeter than before.Big decisions on hold,I'm closing in on the end.

Oh! Sweetkins, bring me back.Let me sail on your ship.Let me in, take me home.Bring me back home, Sweetkins.

Shrapnel gathers. Little remains of me.Abduction of faith; violence rekindled.Crowded streets sway and melt,and spiral down in a frenzy

Oh! Sweetkins, bring me back.Let me sail on your ship.Let me in, take me home.Bring me back home, Sweetkins.

sweetkins

Thanks...

MumTanyaGeoffMonaAmritaAiyeshaPKGeorgeSumaJustinEugeneRobertJosephReshmiAsifPalash

and all the other folks that made this possible.

Gary Steele is a musician.Not because he can play music, but because he makes the creation of it possible. He loves Delhi, but loves serenity more.

www.wishbone.in