Satire
Dreadful looking! Suppose I will bamboozle if those eyes stare at me. I don't know what is there in those eyes. When they ogle at me, they seem as if they were going to swallow me up.
I don't have any hostility with those eyes. I neither try to obstruct their hallucination nor do I try to put any dust in those eyes, but they are being unsympathetic without any reason.
With eyes full of interest, I look at the blue sky; I find many lovely birds flying there. I try to compare myself with those birds. Immediately those eyes appear in front of me to cover the scene. "I don't know!" I ask myself "Can't I look up at the sky? Is it a crime to want to be like a bird?
I'm angry with those eyes, which envelop my sight. I want to pierce those eyes with a needle. But I am weak; I don't have the capacity to reach those eyes. So, I must bend my head and look down.
I know very well what those eyes do. I know well how far those eyes can see. Those eyes are the audience of a dancer, they drink nicely, and they drink the body of the dancer. They don't need hands, those eyes; they can hug with a look. "Surely," I say there is a magic in those eyes.
They have pockets full of money, they go to play expensive games, and full of joy they spend money. At midnight they explain the speech of a drunkard. The game of those eyes, I don't have the ability to enjoy, because my eyes ate so cloud, my eyes are so sleepy.
Gazing towards the files of corruption, waiting to sign on a piece of paper and choosing the way-those eyes are...
I read the eyes of Muna-Madan I studies the eyes of Romeo & Juliet; I experience, I am feeling my eyes and the eyes of my country, but always why do those eyes stare? Why are my eyes wet?
I try to make my eyes dry but they are always wet, why? I don't know when my eyes are wet, those terrible eyes pretended to come and wipe my tear away. I'm weak, I'm afraid. I long for those eyes not to touch me but still they come to touch my eyes.
I can't be quiet. So I try to reject. I try to raise my hand but I can't I can't speak any words, so I must be quiet. I can't do anything except be quiet...quiet...quiet.
Anyway, I'm quiet. I want to stay alone but those eyes are always following me. They follow me carrying a knife; they follow me with a gun.
I look on both sides...what is this??? Everywhere those eyes??? In front of me eyes, behind me eyes, eyes on the road, eyes on the window. Aah! The surrounding is full of those eyes.
I cannot stay. I walk. No, I run; I run quickly. Ooh! Ouch! Suddenly I hit a big stone and fall down. I look at the stone, the stone is stable, the stone is quiet. I study the stone-it is innocent. It is sorrowful like me. I talk with the stone. We share our pain. I forgive him, he forgives me.
"Please those eyes, now I am tired I cannot walk, I cannot run, don't follow me with a gun , don't follow me with a knife. I'm going to go mad. I can't see enough with my eyes. So I need the help of those eyes"
If you have a heart please keep me on one side of your heart. I'll stay quietly, obeying you. I don't have any place to stay in this world! I can't get any place here! But I want to live freely. Please eyes, please help me... I need your help...Please give me your hand...please eyes...eyes...eyes...
Essay by Karun
Read 596 times
Written on 2009-02-19 at 14:24
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Tormented Eyes
Dreadful looking! Suppose I will bamboozle if those eyes stare at me. I don't know what is there in those eyes. When they ogle at me, they seem as if they were going to swallow me up.
I don't have any hostility with those eyes. I neither try to obstruct their hallucination nor do I try to put any dust in those eyes, but they are being unsympathetic without any reason.
With eyes full of interest, I look at the blue sky; I find many lovely birds flying there. I try to compare myself with those birds. Immediately those eyes appear in front of me to cover the scene. "I don't know!" I ask myself "Can't I look up at the sky? Is it a crime to want to be like a bird?
I'm angry with those eyes, which envelop my sight. I want to pierce those eyes with a needle. But I am weak; I don't have the capacity to reach those eyes. So, I must bend my head and look down.
I know very well what those eyes do. I know well how far those eyes can see. Those eyes are the audience of a dancer, they drink nicely, and they drink the body of the dancer. They don't need hands, those eyes; they can hug with a look. "Surely," I say there is a magic in those eyes.
They have pockets full of money, they go to play expensive games, and full of joy they spend money. At midnight they explain the speech of a drunkard. The game of those eyes, I don't have the ability to enjoy, because my eyes ate so cloud, my eyes are so sleepy.
Gazing towards the files of corruption, waiting to sign on a piece of paper and choosing the way-those eyes are...
I read the eyes of Muna-Madan I studies the eyes of Romeo & Juliet; I experience, I am feeling my eyes and the eyes of my country, but always why do those eyes stare? Why are my eyes wet?
I try to make my eyes dry but they are always wet, why? I don't know when my eyes are wet, those terrible eyes pretended to come and wipe my tear away. I'm weak, I'm afraid. I long for those eyes not to touch me but still they come to touch my eyes.
I can't be quiet. So I try to reject. I try to raise my hand but I can't I can't speak any words, so I must be quiet. I can't do anything except be quiet...quiet...quiet.
Anyway, I'm quiet. I want to stay alone but those eyes are always following me. They follow me carrying a knife; they follow me with a gun.
I look on both sides...what is this??? Everywhere those eyes??? In front of me eyes, behind me eyes, eyes on the road, eyes on the window. Aah! The surrounding is full of those eyes.
I cannot stay. I walk. No, I run; I run quickly. Ooh! Ouch! Suddenly I hit a big stone and fall down. I look at the stone, the stone is stable, the stone is quiet. I study the stone-it is innocent. It is sorrowful like me. I talk with the stone. We share our pain. I forgive him, he forgives me.
"Please those eyes, now I am tired I cannot walk, I cannot run, don't follow me with a gun , don't follow me with a knife. I'm going to go mad. I can't see enough with my eyes. So I need the help of those eyes"
If you have a heart please keep me on one side of your heart. I'll stay quietly, obeying you. I don't have any place to stay in this world! I can't get any place here! But I want to live freely. Please eyes, please help me... I need your help...Please give me your hand...please eyes...eyes...eyes...
Essay by Karun
Read 596 times
Written on 2009-02-19 at 14:24
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
