Jim Morrison and Ray Manzarek circa 1969
The Absurd Theatre
Quartz rhythm
Hypothetical geometric fibres
The circle with the thing in itself
Unknown to the territory
Walks on the edge gazing at the distant stars
Birds fly rocking the girdle
A movement of the hips enables the plasma of the sun
Rested on the streams of the seven seas
A deserted highway is a door to eternity
It’s the burial ground of our collective memory
Here, cars don’t pull up and stop
Strangers walk not
Not even the tarantula
Spikes of frozen earth laps
The wind’s hairy roar
Screaming across the metal foliage of rusted lands
Rolling like a substance without a toil
In a unmistakable world of quiet absurdity
Not knowing, it crawls towards that significant nothing
That which is our moving frame of existence
Relative to simultaneous points
Many years later your old Word is very young
Innocent like the child of a polished stone
Absurd, forgotten or gone.
– Joy Roy Choudhury
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