2310: An Earth Odyssey

As I walk along this lonely beach
I Hear the echo of a jungle tree
Or is it a parrot that tried to scream
Or the unknown shadows of a long dead beach

Is there a jungle to the left of me
Or just dead tree trunks that tried to flee
The sun is duller than it used to be
When and where can I now be

The stars may not shine as brightly

The stars may not shine as brightly
And the moon may wander around
But time for you
has not stopped

For I see you walking
On the beaches of my poems
Alone in an Island
Sailing on ships that have long since stopped sailing

But if after reading this
Some other business intrudes
And my book is left to collect the dust
Let not time pass
Without a kind thought of your friend

RJX

One night I woke up

One night I woke up
The stars had wandered off
The sun was extinguished
The moon was but a small dark dot in the sky
What insignificant beings we are...
But how much pain we cause

Marooned in a lonely Island

Marooned in a Lonely Island
Seeking a Friendly Ship,
Waters of Silver Ripples,
And Beaches of Branchless Trees.

A Sun that Burns the Skin
Clouds that Embrace,
Parrots that Speak Bloody French,
God ! Am I going Insane

Is that a Damn ship out there
Will it hit the Damn Reef
Will my Dum Dog greet me
Dammit, it’s the bloody Spanish

But behind this Coconut Jungle
And Creepers of Blue Lilies
And Past that thorny hell bush
Is a Jungle of Great Trees

Trees of Giant Timber
A Jungle of Tamarinds
With a Saw from the old Wreck
Could I Build a Two Mast Ship

The Idea

Many years ago when I was a kid I had a great fascination with the sea. As I grew up it didn't leave me, but one day I went to the beach and found it all very dull. The sea seemed mysterious and menacing rather than the magical place where all my dreams were formed. It was then that I realized that I was growing older. I don't know exactly when but somewhere along the years I was shocked to find out that I had lost the thrill of travelling by train. One by one as the years went by I found that I had lost interest in most things. It was then that I discovered art. Though my drawings and paintings were not very good it gave me a great thrill to draw something new everyday. Later on I got interested in writing short stories, few people comment on what I write and those that do so out of sympathy, but still I enjoy writing. I think having an idea either in art, music carpentry or any other thing and then implementing it is one of the greatest thrills life has to give

The Bus

Many years ago I found a job in the manufacturing department of a company. My job was in turns both very boring and very stressful, but the worst part was the commuting. I spent a total of six hours travelling by bus every day. At first I looked out of the window to see whether there were any interesting landmarks but soon got tired of the scenery.

Soon I was so tired of commuting that it made me sick. I started reading the newspapers but found that they mostly contained the feats of one great man or another. It seemed some people were doing really well in this world, unfortunately I was not one of them. In despair I wondered what I could do, then it struck me - I would read novels.

But when I visited book shops I found novels prohibitively expensive. I visited second hand book shops and found that some of the better books were unreadable because they crumbled in my hand page by page as I read them. There were many books but to find a good book in that untidy mess you had to be very lucky. Among the gems I found were – 1984 by George Orwell, Collection of short stories by W. Somerset Maugham, Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson, War of the Worlds by H.G. Wells, To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf, The Great Gatsby by Scott F Fitzgerald and Brighton Rock by Graham Greene.

While reading these strange stories I also became interested in reading about the authors themselves and found that their life stories were even stranger than the fiction they wrote. So many of them had mood disorders that I wondered whether this in fact helped them write better. Sadly most of them died young and some of their lives like Virginia Woolf’s for example ended in tragedy. For a while I toiled with the idea of writing a book called “The Strange and tragic lives of Great Writers” but found it too depressing to write. It is a thankless job to write ill about the dead, especially those who have given many months of reading enjoyment. Instead I decided to try and write a novel

Apart from reading I also had another strange idea. I am an amateur artist and I wondered whether I could sketch in the bus looking at the scenery outside. Unfortunately the bus moved too fast for me to do this and there weren’t many interesting landmarks I could sketch. Then it struck me - why not inconspicuously sketch interesting elements from different parts of the journey in my small blank note book and put it all together in one composition back home.

So I sketched a tree from one part of my journey, and a vegetable seller in another, and a building from another area and put them all in one picture. This presented problems of scale, perspective and logic but when it comes off right it looks spectacular. Many people asked me where in the country there were such unusual scenery and my answer was always “everywhere”.

Written by: RJX