Christopher Bernard’s Amor I Kaos: Eighth Novel Installment

Christopher Bernard’s novel “AMOR i KAOS”: Eighth Installment. (Search for earlier chapters by searching his name or the novel title on our site!)

 

But it doesn’t anymore. (Doesn’t what? she asked.) Happen as it used to. I remember you smiling at me. I remember me smiling at you. (I can’t say I remember either of those things. Or if they happened, they were pure reflexes. They were social smiles, meant to ward off hostility, to express harmlessness, peaceful intentions. They had no expressive meaning or intention whatsoever.) That isn’t what I remember. (You can’t trust memory. It lies.) Not always and not everywhere. (Where emotions are involved, almost always.) Then how am I to be so sure that what you say you remember is accurate either? If I have to choose between your memory and mine, thanks, but I think I’ll choose mine. First of all, because it’s more beautiful. (To you.) True: more beautiful to me. (And I choose mine because it seems more likely to be true.) No, because it’s meaner, and you think the meaner the thought, the more honest, the truer. Sometimes I’m afraid of you, you have a cruel streak, or maybe it’s just anger, and you’re looking for a reason, any reason, to fight. (You’re wrong. I don’t want to fight you, you want to fight me, everything you say is meant to provoke me. Everything you say is an attack. All you want to do is win.) No, no, no, I don’t accept your terms for this debate. (You’re trying to impose your meaning on me. I won’t have it!) I’m not trying to impose anything on you, I’m just trying to express what I feel and understand. (You won’t let this go, you’re being insistent and disrespectful.) No, I’m just not letting you win, I’m standing up to you and not letting you bully me. (You don’t hear what I’m saying! Stop this!) Stop what? Stop speaking? I can’t, I won’t. Don’t order me. (Don’t order me! You’re being selfish and childish in trying to impose your ideas and feelings on me.) I am not, that’s not what this is about. Why are we fighting? I don’t understand this, I don’t understand you. Why are you behaving like this? (What about the word stop do you not understand? You’re being violent in your insistence. I want no more communication from you. I will not listen. If you communicate with me again I will seek recourse to stronger action.)

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Poetry from Mahbub

21 February

 

We struggled for the Language

It was for Bangla

We achieved our right

Recognized today as

International Mother Language Day

21 February is a red letter day

For all of us in the world

Salam, Barkat, Rafique, Zabbar and so many

Laid down their lives

As we are in this earth

No one can take away our Mother Tongue

We are blessed with a language

Express our thoughts and ideas

Peace be upon them who sacrificed

The most valuable lives

To communicate with each other

By our own language

Different community, nation and groups

Remember the day

with great respect and honour.

 

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Short story from Vijay Nair

 

WORD SALAD!

Vijay Nair

Vijay Nair

Every weekend after our hectic works we four friends; Arjun Nair, Jayaram Krishna, Vishal Menon and myself gathered together in Arjun’s clinic. Since our high school days we have been following this customary meeting which was held either in anyone’s house or some small road side coffee shop.  But, since Arjun started his own clinic after successfully he completed his M D in Psychiatry his clinic was fixed as our permanent venue for meeting and chatting.

 

During the school days it was part of our study. We four guys were from middle class families. We did not have enough money spending for attending tuition. So we all decided to do a combined study. After we started our combined study we found a surprising fact that we four were known as “Self Masters” among our class mates and among other acquaintances. It was in fact, Vishal who coined this compound word first. Among us only Vishal has this flair in creating magic with words. Many such incidents I noticed in him since our primary class, and even today I’ve been keeping secret my jealousy on his intellect power . A rift between both of us developed very earlier in this regard. Most of his creative writings are mind blowing as well as ridiculing people globally. One such his thought provoking post on Face Book recently created so many chat shows and it went on viral. He wrote: virtual intercourse is more spiritual than real and it saves you from S T D!!! This is a small such example of Vishal’s sense of humour and critical view of matters of his concern. We could not compete with him in word play. I can remember a sizeable instances of his creative genius.

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Essay from Chimezie Ihekuna

 

  • Understanding Heterosexual Dynamics Using Science

 

Preface

The application of science in many fields of human endeavors is undoubtedly not far-fetched. As a matter of fact, science has profound applications on human behaviors, especially sexuality. Sexuality, an integral form of human behavior, can be explained using science. Precisely, science can be explained in the light of heterosexuality in the context of this literary piece.

Understanding Heterosexual Dynamics Using Science explains the various forms of sexuality that exist between a man and woman before marriage, the emotional connections, sense of bonding and impact the audience with the analogous use of the scientific (magnetism and mechanics-based) principles with consequential psychological effects as they affect subsequent relationships(or marriages) individuals engage in. It makes use of novel terminologies to explain the various forms of sexual intercourse. With the use of diagrams, the creativity understanding of the reader-worthy work piece intends reaching the bull’s eye.

It is intended that the reader comprehend this sexuality-based material and appreciate its essence in relationships with the opposite sex. In addition, this brief masterpiece will essentially be useful by sexologists, scientists and other academicians interested in the subject matter.

Understanding Heterosexual Dynamics Using Science merits consideration amongst scholars, students of sexology, psychology and the general reading public.

Mr. Ben

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Poetry from Chimezie Ihekuna

  1. i) Out of the Box

 

Out of the Box I was lost in the box called life…In it,

(I) I wanted learning but my education was deafening

I wanted truth but my reality faked its root

I wanted to buy the right counsel but my mind controller got me its left sell

I wanted to be free but my pursuit turned a tree

I wanted information but my vision brought me deformation

I wanted wellness but my state showed illness

I wanted food but my money was rude

I wanted a wife but my life mirrored a knife!

I wanted the clarity of pleasure but my naked eyes saw the dullness of pressure

I wanted to live forever but my death was to question

For Ever I wanted peace but my perception reflected unease

 

(II) I wanted to know about people but my understanding was a fumble

I wanted to be everyone’s friend but my experience was the pal’s end

I wanted to be rich but my efforts didn’t catch a fish!

I wanted direction but my limitation was the obstruction

I wanted to know the ‘why’ to everything happening but my answer had to cry to all prevailing

I wanted to invest in good but my previous return showed “fooled”

I wanted to scream because of pains but my calmness showed up because of gains

 

(III) I wanted people to hear my voice but my quest was a noise

I wanted money but my struggle was funny!

I wanted to know why the world was divided but the response was: “Its control is what’s favorited”

I wanted to know what happens after death but my physical life told me I was on earth

I wanted to tell people my experience but my words failed me in their presence

I wanted to know if I knew what I know but my existence replied with a “NO!” I wanted to find myself through my works but my inner-self whispered:

“If you want to find yourself, then think Out Of the Box!”

Youtube Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TRVOJ6fpgZs

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Poetry from J Dorroh

“She’s Not so Pretty Now”

 

America is all but dead, by God,

a bloated, unrecognizable cadaver,

face down, eyes eaten by fish,

floating in a coffee-colored river,

her stained garment snagged on the bank.

 

The coroner needs a bit of assistance

in rolling her over for identification

but no one volunteers – not the recipients

who used her for a Sugar Mama, nor the

politicians who stole her image in the name

of family values.

 

The immigrants touched her filthy dress,

trading eminent death for one fresh breath

in the greatest country on the planet. But they

too were cheated out of new directions

because one among them also wore a dirty shroud.

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