Guernica E-Book

Anand Bose

• Herausgeber: BookRix
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

Guernica is an experimental work of art. I have introduced a new genre of fiction called Philosophical fiction. The fiction is a dialogue that is autobiograhical, aesthetic and philosophical. I have drawn inspiration from Jazz and from Cubist art of Picasso. The fiction is like a cubist painting. Various themes have become motifs for this fiction. 

Leseprobe

Anand Bose

Guernica

BookRix GmbH & Co. KG81371 Munich

Guernica

Art

Art is a consciousness, an altered state of experiencing reality. Schopenhauer has said: ‘all art aspires to the condition of music’. Art in language is a simulacrum of metaphors and metonymies. Art is a symbolic picture, a radiant ostentation, a consciousness of possession. I am a lover of classical music, rock, country, jazz and gospel. Music is pure passion of poetry, an eclectic synchronicity of time, a halo of the mind, a rapture of the soul. It’s through art one becomes the mystic of being. I examine my own consciousness through the state of art. Yes, I have used weed. Weedishness as an altered state of consciousness is a passionate state of mind. I think the highest form of art is sex. Sex is the poetry of music, an art of transcendence. I love being a lesbian voyeur. They wound their bodies like poetry. She became she and they melodied as mystic flowers. They became poems of saturation. I adore saintly lesbians. I have created a new philosophy of art called art-cono-clasm from art and iconoclasm. Nietzsche’s philosophy of art is one of pulchritude. For Nietzsche art occurs when the Dionysian and the Apollonian elements merge. The Dionysian aesthetic elements are rhythm, beat, ecstasy and altered states of consciousness. The Apollonian elements are melody and harmony. In sex art occurs; caresses, kisses, hugs, sucking are melodies of harmony. Thrust, cunnilingus and fellatio are Dionysian. Sex is a tantric ritual. Libidinal energies have to merge into the philosophy of becoming. Sex is Beethoven’s sonata. She in Bali is my new found lover. She is a Balineez Hindu. I am fond of writing verses for her. I want to bed with her in sweet ecstasy of the poetry of becoming. Sex is meditation of the highest heaven. It’s a pleasant feeling to have the loins saturated. Sex is music, sex is poetry, and sex is panting. Sex is the fusion of all art forms. I remember fondly how I kissed her at the airport. The memory of the kiss lingers as a flower. It was an old granny who initiated me to sex when I was fifteen. I was so ashamed of sex then. I remember sex with her with fear and trembling. Dope heightens the feeling of sexuality. Then there was my significant other. I have performed the rites of sexuality with her as the flow of seasons. I am wondering whether all writers are womanizers. For art to flourish one must be a passionate womanizer. Ecstasy, you passionate flower of being, you soul of becoming, you gallivant the soul to the consciousness of a poem; I have surrendered to the passions of your wooing. I think of Anu! She is my passionate lover. The way she suckled me like a tender lamb was an odyssey of joy. Anu, you are beatitude of the soul. My journeys of sex are an incomplete book. I remember Sheeba my college lover. It was so beautiful to think how her palm caressed mine. I felt her tender breasts like the music of poetry. I feel sad that I couldn’t get to marry her. This is what I need in a woman, a loving heart, a beautiful mind and a passionate bed. Sex is poetic nirvana, a beatitude of the soul. I think of dear Valery now. She came as a UK exchange teacher program. She was a painter and poet. She badly wanted to have sex with me. At that time my conservative Protestantism would not make me budge. When I was in Hong Kong staying at the YMCA, while I was strolling, I passed through a brothel. The Madam there was standing outside the gate and said in a cajoling tone: ‘son my women are tasty; come in and have a drink’. My Protestantism made me run away from there. Next morning while I was ambling, I noticed her outside the brothel, waving incense sticks and muttering incantations. I was so surprised. Do whores pray to God? Seeing me she shouted loud insults and shooed me off with a broom. I am so surprised by her behavior. I remember nostalgically of the many missed sexual encounters that I have had. Then there was Shanti who was my colleague when I worked in Jakarta. She invited me home for dinner. She took me straight to her bedroom and started fondling me. I like a stupid fool did not pick up the cues. There go another wasted sexual opportunity. Recently I met a woman from Bali on an internet dating site. She is so charming. Yes I long to rush to Bali and make poetry to her. I am so fond of loving many women. Sex is an oeuvre, a passionate music, a crystal of poetry, mytho-poetic art of becoming. Passion is a metaphor for sex. I am fond of the many women who have come into my life. Sex is a metaphor of poetry laced with lyric of love. In India we have Kama the God of music. We have Gandharvans celestial angelic lovers who woo maidens to make love with them. I think the highest form of art is sex. Adultery is passionate poetry. One who has mastered the rites of sex becomes a true philosopher. Oh, music of sex, take me to realms of celestiality, narcissisfy my body to a lava of becoming. I have tasted many fountains and they are as sweet as honey. Sex is erotic, sensual, passionate, musical and vibratory with the rhythms of the body. How I long to go to Bali and make love to her. I want to sprinkle my dew in her verdant grass. I want to kiss her for hours. I want to hold her and embrace her. My body glows with warmth when I think of her. She is a passionate soul. She is my poetry and I write lyrical fonts on her. How sweet must be her hive? I want to immerse my tongue in it and I want to hear her moan in the poetry of ecstasy. Honey I want to come to Bali and meet you. I hope I can win a lottery so that I can come and meet you.

Music