Posted in amibiguity, answers, art, courage, DREAMS, Elections, emotions, expressions, freedom, HOPE, humanity, life, mindset, past, questions, souls, strength

Which Animal is your mind?

The mind is an animal fueled by the instincts and basic nature of me. So I control the mind, the mind controls my run through lap of life. I and my meanings are again debatable. But I and my are product of the steps since we could sense life around us. Then the mind is a product of this life. If it were an animal, a particular animal, I wonder which it would be. The horse, the sheep , the lion, the caterpillar? Hunger for an achievement, for a proof of our own existence drives each one of us in different manners, in different directions. And each day the mind feeds on a different taste of life. I wonder what’s in store for it, I wonder what scent intoxicates it and calls on it’s hunger for the life to come.

Posted in life

It ain’t that simple

It was suppose to be simple

Dedication , care, patience…

Honesty, empathy, compassion…

I walk in ur shoes .. u walk in mine..

And then we walk together..

There is a passion brewing..

And we flow with our depths…

We sip our morning freshness…

The cup of coffee caressing our smiles and stirring our conversations..

But then it never was simple ,was it…?

Game of words..

Game of feelings not to be spoken..

Questions not be sprung…

Power saddling the bond…

Truth has run wayward..

And love is not the master of the ride anymore..

It’s crept to hedges and hides from power..

Hides in the game where just one falls and the other walks on..

It ain’t that simple , is it?

Posted in amibiguity, blogging, change, cynicism, DREAMS, emotions, expressions, life, living, loss, love, love oneself, poetry, poetry on life, society, struggle, the mind, time

Cynical and Baked in Questions

It gets difficult..more and more difficult as you proceed with time and the picture of life presents itself in its many attires. Mind you I didn’t say progress with time or walk with time, just proceed with time. Word choice and placements have a significance of their own.

At some point you feel that there are things you have lived through and are living  through and they appear to be the same kind of things.  Same mistakes, same kind of degenerations. A spinning of deja vu.  At some point you question, that maybe you are just being a wise fool, especially with the way you ask questions, the same wise ones over and over again.All you wish is for a day that sprung the meaning of life itself to you. But the appearance of and questions about incidents, parables, predicaments and blessings keep resounding against closed door of your clogged shell of very gooey ego. Self stranded emotions and brittle feelings keeping piling up. It makes one feel caught and pinned onto a point, when all swings by and the wind blows but you are dangling from the hard rusty iron needle of time. Going in circles along the same loop, you don’t even have the pleasure of rolling along.

You wonder how you ended up here and what do you even have to  show for your self? And why do you even want to show something for your self? Why are you lagging so far behind in your walk to being a monk? Is there a sheet of  paper that defines you or is there a purpose which encompasses and protects your ego manifesting an obscure image, but an image nonetheless to the eyes of the world. Are you what you see in the reflection of this world and also are you what you speak and what you think you need and want? Or are just a Mr. Nobody in the shoes of very malleable live sculptor of you. No wonder, you always want to reinvent your self as they call it-a new makeover ,every now and then, it gets you excited, your very  malleable ego is at least.

You wonder if you really have gathered friends and if their loyalty walks in a two way street. Where does your loyalty lie, how far does your loyalty go? Does the man really speak what he means? Or does he even know what he means? Is the ego ever satisfied, is pleasing plug ever diffused, Are the eyes ever alive with a smile that comes without a question, without a memory of having lost a battle in other moments.I wonder if a blind, deaf and dumb lady without an inch of memory would smile? If she smiled, what would she smile about? and would her eyes smile, Would her eyes feed the world the sense of an emotion and expression even if it did not count in her blessings.

The people we meet leave deep and dangerous stride of prints , and deep heaps of brown,muddied and soggy dusted down remains of time. Always a slippery slope or notorious ditch within self. Do you ever wonder if what you feel is reflected in the heart of another, will you ever know the heart of another, will you ever know the truth? Or is knowing the truth an oxymoron because one can never know anything and the truth is a flirtatious breeze of momentary epiphany.

If man was one part of nature, and what man makes is another apart of nature, the two combine and use and delve into each other to thrive and build a culture and frame of living. Once you step out of the frame, you have just fallen out  of bed and are now wide awake. Wide awake and piling a basket of questions. The culture has been breeding and knitted into a very fine sheath with a hemmed membrane. All the people you know are swinging in the cradle of the sheath wrapped up in it but you, you are suddenly sitting on the bare ground.

Is it possible to feel happiness even when you know there is a life built by others and you have to be the mice spinning in the running wheel.  Do I think I am better than others? Well, then I am just as narcissistic and an ego maniac as the next person. But I do fall out of the bed of sheath, naked, cynical and baked in questions.

 

 

Posted in life

To be or not to be

To be quiet is a sin of the heart..

To be loud is sin of the mind..

To speak is to offend the diffidence of honor

To numb the tongue is the offence of human sensibility

To fight friends of the soul..

One must find a courage of another kind..

For the closest cast the darkest shadows…

To fight enemies of the mind..

One could roar or mumble and grind the feet and harrow with the wheels of thought..

For enemies stray far ,as the soul floats in soft glow of sheltered love…

To stand steadfast battling howling winds for another ….

Is to answer the wolf mate’s howling whimper, with a growl of hope and fight…

But  To Stand in the feeding emptiness and resounding darkness for self…

Is to roar for self, drowning the sounds of a whimpering wolf..

To question your conscience, and subdue your breath,

Is to bite ones own ego..

To  measure the reality seen against the reality felt..

Is to weigh the fog against the descending cold..

Who is your friend, the seen or the felt?

Who is fighting for you? your pack or your ego?

To be the gallant wolf or to be the self appeasing ego?

To be the fight or not to be but wait for the scales to balance..