Ram's Blog

Saturday, June 21, 2014

Finding Me

Social
Facebook: ram.sadasiv
Twitter: @rsadasiv
Tumblr: Angarai
Google+: Ram Sadasiv

Writing
Prose: Out Of Print Magazine
Poetry: Angarai

Music
Sampler: rsadasiv Newer: The Woodshed Tapes
Older: Dance Music For Grownups
Cover Band: Skinny Tie
YouTube Demos: Ram Sadasiv

Photos
Flickr: rsadasiv

Professional
LinkedIn: rsadasiv Clarabridge

Monday, April 28, 2014

Fire Island (1998)

First the sand
Then the sound
Then the sand
And then the island
Then the sand
Then the sound
And then you're there

At the Inn
And the Out
Girls walk in
And they walk out
And the men
Just sit there and stare

At the girls of Babylon

Birdwatching talk
Snakes across
The wooden boardwalk
Watching hawks
And nudists on the beach

Down on the point
Tony rolls another joint
As the sun
Dips down beneath the dunes

Over Babylon

Chrysler Jeeps
Drive up and down the beach
Toward the moon
Always slightly out of reach

And the tan gay men
Find their way home again
Toward the lighthouse
And the night siren

Over Babylon

Gotta get away
Gotta get away
Gotta get away to Fire Island

Thursday, April 03, 2014

Postcards and Trinkets

Don't come to London for sun
The days since I landed have been rainy and cold
And don't come to Paris for love
All the people I meet are unfriendly and old
Don't come to Milan for beauty
The city's a cesspool of gray industry
But all of these things would be different
If only you had come with me

I won't go to London for fun
I'm dreadfully busy right here at home
Neither Paris nor heaven above
Compare with the romance we have here in Rome
Milan, it has Berlusconi
I know perfectly well that it's frightful to see
But if you're on the road feeling lonely
Well, you should have stayed home with me

Postcards and trinkets
Airport souvenirs
Say that I love you
You know that I love you
And I miss you each day you're not here

20 Years

The smell of fresh whisky and stale cigarettes
Like gently used clothing or Evite regrets
You wear your moods like the rain wears a cloud
And your inside voice has been speaking out loud

Twenty years in and twenty to go
It's not what you've done it's all who you know
Uncomfortably poised on the edge of the show
You're twenty years in with twenty to go

Friday, March 14, 2014

After Ankitha

Oh God
Crow, horseshit, narcissism reeking
Why am I attracted to you? 
I hate you so much for what you’re doing to me
I was jealous of the girl who played your girlfriend
You’re disgusting and vile and the only male I can even talk to
Why do I do this?
We bought Samosas and headed to class
We scramble and fall and try and remain
Like we always have
Laughing

Crocodile Tears for Musthapha

Do you want to get high?
He smiled like a toothpaste ad
She couldn’t decide
If she was good or if she was bad
They went outside
With the bartender on his break
Nothing to hide
It was a chance that she had to take

She was a girl
On her way in the big world
A month by the bay
To be free in her own way


Once you go brown
Can you ever go back?
She’s coming down
There's a bruise up on her neck
She saw him around
Might have been Houston or LA
And here’s what she found
That she was not ordinary

Wednesday, March 05, 2014

Narcolepsy

I knew she was the one
When I woke up inside her
Still hard and ready to finish
But narcolepsy means
Different things to different people

Of course her tight little body
Corvette curves
Mustang lines
Edges like broken shards of fiberglass Camaro
Helps
But narcolepsy means
Different things to different people

I've so internalized the workshop
That I talk to myself
Constantly
Always answering
Yes
But narcolepsy means
Different things to different people

A picture of many hands
Or of one hand
Trembling
A figment
Perhaps
Of auto focused
Imagination
But narcolepsy means
Different things to different people

Cutting yourself
In the middle of the night
Is not the best way to
Get back to
Sleep
But narcolepsy means
Different things to different people

Monday, March 03, 2014

Shall I tell you a story?

The most beautiful wedding ever seen in Valhalla was the marriage of Njord and Skade. Njord came from the race of Vanir; he was a great swimmer and sailor and like all the Vanir he could summon the rains so that the fields and forests became verdant and green as he made his way across the land. Skade came from the race of Jotuns; she was a great skier and skater and like all the Jotuns she could summon the snow so that people could travel at the speed of the wind. Their courtship was complicated but they loved each other deeply and when they finally married all of heaven and earth rejoiced with them.

But once the feasting and celebrations were over, and it was time for them to return to their home, they faced a dilemma. For Njord’s house, Noatun, was by the seashore; near the waters that loved him so and near the forests and fields that he so loved. And Skade’s house, Thrymheimr, was in the mountains; at the top of a glacier with a magical chairlift so that you could ski down wherever you wanted and always have a way to get back to the top.

Now they loved each other deeply, and wanted to be together always, so they compromised: nine days they would stay at Skade’s house in the mountains, and nine days they would stay at Njord’s house by the seashore. But despite his love for Skade, Njord was unhappy in the mountains, and on the tenth day, as they came down the mountain back to Noatun, he sang this lay:

Loath were the hills to me,
I was not long in them,
Nights only nine;
To me the wailing of
Wolves seemed ill,
After the song of swans.

And Skade loved Njord, and wanted him to be happy, so she stayed the nine days in Noatun. But Skade was unhappy away from her mountains and on the ninth morning she sang this lay:

Sleep could I never
On the sea-beds,
For the wailing of waterfowl;
He wakens me
Who comes from the deep –
The sea-mew every morn.

And so she returned to the mountains, and he remained by the sea, and their two children, Frey and Freya, split their time between the two houses, spending the summer with their father by the seashore bathing in the fjord and wandering the meadows and the winter with their mother in the mountains skiing the steep slopes with the speed of the wind.

Monday, February 24, 2014

Where Did The Time Go?

You ain't no Dorian Grey
The picture in the frame
Will always stay the same
The picture is of you
On your first day of preschool
And back behind the lens
I was younger too

Where did the time go?

It's in the silver of my hair
And the lines across my face
In the creak behind my knees
And the roll around my waist

Now you need a shave
And I need a shave
And I know that you feel different
But I still feel the same

Where did the time go?

It's in the silver of my hair
And in the lines across my face
In the creak behind my knees
And the roll around my waist

Where did it go?