Showing posts with label Subculture. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Subculture. Show all posts

Monday, May 17, 2010

Scenes From A South Indian Temple

Screams, prayers and chanting,
Laughter, tears and panting.
Countless people,
An M&Ms pack of emotions.

Children looking after the old,
The old looking after their sanity.
A group of religious skinheads,
You can find them in any corner.

A money hungry elephant,
That blesses the people,
That feed it money.
A tap on their heads, their blessing.

Women in prayer,
Blocking the way.
Another lot,
Blocking the music.

A hundred idols,
A hundred Gods.
Footsteps and eerie music,
Sounds from the background.

Coconuts and garlands of flowers,
All for an extra fee.
Photographs and another hall to see,
All for an extra fee.

Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Cinema

I want to learn how to make movies. I've even got a few ideas in my head for a few very short movies. Picture this -
Black and white.
A group of punks or skinheads are at a dining table, eating their fried chicken. There's a bucket (bucket of chicken) at the centre of the table. After eating their chicken, they put their bones into the bucket. They don't talk, just concentrate on eating their chicken. After they're done eating, and with all the bones in the bucket, they get up. One of them picks up the bucket and they all start walking. They exit the house or wherever they were eating at, and just walk. A few seconds later (skipping a bit of walking) they reach a graveyard. They find an already dug up area. They empty the bucket into it, and bury it. There's a tombstone there, but it's hidden by darkness. After burying they leave, and the camera zooms in on the tombstone, on which is written, 'Thank you, for dinner.'

Yes I know you loved it. I have another one for you, haha.
A man's lying on his bed, looking at a painting on the wall opposite to him. The painting is of a red balloon with a psychedelic background. As he looks on, the balloon escapes the painting and is flying around his room. The canvas has only the background. The balloon flies up and hits the spinning fan, and bursts. Unbelievingly the man rubs his eyes, and looks at the painting once again. The painting has the same background and the balloon's back in it, but this time, the balloon is a punctured one of the same colour.