amibiguity

Triumph over self.. 

The parchment and the blank space shall absorb all my postulated negativity..

And the smears of hope… Maybe it shall sing me a new song..anew answer..

With such an endeavoring wish tucked in my self.. Proceed I..

And smother I, it with my blunt words and purposeless thoughts..

 

Have I everything I need? And what is it I need and for what?

Have the people I love been cajoled yet? Cajoled by the time spent to stay on..

Why is acceptance a need, a need- so very binding?

Oh my… what if she gets what could be mine…

what if he takes away the spoon that could be mine..

To what end must it serve? to what end does need serve?

To need is to survive and to survive is to need, ain’t it?

Is what I own in me.. a shadow of what the other own?

Ought I to be better and different?

 

Is my ego to be grow on hedges and fence my crisscross ways?

Or must it slumber below..knead itself?

Has my own shadow darkened by heart?

Must my reflection in the eyes of the world be firmer…

Be colored in ways my self has not encapsulated…

Am I to be a master of my ego.. Or am I to be a servant?

To master it, ain’t it the same as to serve it?

Must I hide my faults.. must I smuggle the protruding black jewels into a dark corner..

Or must I smack it with laughter..

 

Why is beauty so well carved by symmetrical terms..

by eyes serving the proposed norms…

why is beauty such a need.. why is beauty so well sculpted in forms so well pruned.

Why must my beauty be compared and scripted and marked..

why must I serve a servitude to these very engraved thoughts…

To needs.. to pertinence with this humming civilization..

 

To be free from self.. free from want.. from desire…

Ohh how sumptuous..how freeing.. how embezzling is the thought of

“triumph over self”..

Ohhh..But how ensnaring to be turning in this cocoon of self..

spiraling..

but to reach no purposeful end.. desiring to be free from self.. and yet reaching nowhere..

 

 

 

 

Categories: amibiguity, answers, blogging, change, emotions, expressions, feminism, HOPE, humanity, Hypocricy, life, mindset, Moralizing, poetry, poetry on life, questions, society, strength, struggle, the mind, time | 2 Comments

Crookedly Woven Thoughts

Image result for wars within THE MIND AND HEART

Where must the mind land? Where must it traverse to?

It must speak for itself to rise and draw on the versatile goodness of fate…

It wishes to grapple in the light just as it does in the dark..

Must it bow, must it be, must it take flight? And in direction ??

Now it speaks a mingled concoction of crookedly woven thoughts..

 

 

Ain’t there enough food on the streets to feed this epidemic of scarcity?

Ain’t there enough love in your heart to heal all the hurt?

Ain’t there enough dust settling on the blood to awaken the heartless with its stench?

 

 

There are ghastly streets, rotten drunkards, thirsty for more,

There is enough monsterity to hope for a shower of hailing empathy..

A desperate need to be rescued from depths of such self destruction..

 

 

Was man born only to rinse swords in tears..

Do those who suffer only remember of the ways to inflict?

The wars of despondency, a continuum of repulsive deeds ,

As human strides round and beneath..away from its naive beginning..

Representing the darkness mounted beneath the sheath of our existence..

 

 

For words to leave the bindings and reveal the intentions of the mind..

The heart must pace with the subtly settling, unknowingly induced pain..

Settling pain is unsettling, unnerving, ain’t it?

 

 

In wars, how must the heart clamber out to help itself?

 

Is life a war?  In ways it strives to derive the worth of time..

An urgency to grope for what is and isn’t yours,

What exists, just tumbling and rising on pillars of man’s uncertain designs..

A struggle to win hearts.. A struggle pacify the reflections in others..

A desire to be owned , A desire to own..

The wry ways of this human embodiment..

Darn the pain.. Darn the seemingly sodden truth..

 

 

Must I say something nice? I shall..

Heart must clot its wounds…

The man, must keep on keepin on..

And the light shall reach you as it stretches across to save us all..

Maybe there is love, hidden at the corners of your eye..

Maybe there is love, trembling to be undone on the ridge of your lids..

Maybe there is love in the hearts of the diseased.. maybe it will be find the hope..

And we shall smile in unison.. as plainly as the child does.. without reason..

In supple ways, maybe light will find all of us.

Categories: amibiguity, emotions, expressions, HOPE, INNOCENCE, life, light, living, lost, love, memories, mindset, poetry on life, poetry on love, questions, silence, souls, strength, struggle, the mind, time | 2 Comments

Etching On.

FullSizeRender

Etching Patterns of thoughts on the papyrus of our mundane lives..

Designs we croon into the ear of our twin incarnation..

Curved stretches curbing across the mounts..the will, the wish..

Binding with the harsh breath..mellow at times.. juggling at times..

Strolling across to plot a breathless life..

 

Stumble over potholes dug by our own soles, Hasn’t thee rolled over, traced back, and strutted along then?

Yet the path of etched drawls back and forth scuttering on..

Inking on.. smug.. or giggly.. dreadful or greedy.. smiling through the blots of ink..

In hope in faith.. for trusting to be bound by fate.. we etch on..

 

A kind samaritan spinning the fate.. whispering incantations to string fate to wish..

A mildly fulfilled soul springs along.. sketching butterflies..

And yet then. droplets of pain blotch the ink just along the curve..

 

Words lack depth one might say.. as the heart fails to siphon strings of syllables

Wishing to only tell stories of memorable cons, fortitudes.. innocence and love..

How often has thy samaritan hidden in the cave of doubt?

How often does thee ponder of ways to escape the designs?

Trapped in thy own breath, memories and desires..?

 

Or did the benign fisherman row thee  across?

I think he did.. didn’t he?

Anew bridge..anew sketch..

Anew binding of faith and fate..as thee etches on..

 

P.S- Random thoughts, random sketch as I try to drown myself in something mundane.

 

 

 

Categories: amibiguity, answers, art, blogging, courage, darkness, DREAMS, emotions, expressions, freedom, fun, HOPE, life, living, loss, love, love oneself, memories, poetry, poetry on life, poetry on love, soul, strength, struggle, the mind | Tags: , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

Wars we fight

Who dwells in their own head?

I do.. I do..

I live there with a man of dispiriting affections..

Broth of hatred.. froth of nonchalant love..

Rebelling against my rationale.. Again which is mine and which is his?

Life seems spent at war with love…

Moving on…

Which emotion is not to be felt?

I ain’t following a parchment of archaic laws…

Written and misspelled by all engrossed in a deep desperation of a kind..

Desire to be remembered… desire to be embraced.. Desire to be discovered..

Desire to be designed upon.. embarked into.. a journey from soul into a another..

Desire to appraised with condiments… tokens from one soul to another..

Who… which monk.. which teacher.. which bud..which man or women…

Can surpass the need to live.. need to be, to find which has not been found within..

And the need to feign control..

To him who I love.. who I have loved.. I can love..

I have found not the meaning of it..

I will always bless thee… find thee in my memories… search for thy love..

I hope.. this day.. the gulf of resentment has cleansed as much as it has left my heart..

Apologies I render.. and hope I shall find thee again.. in life.. in love.. in my heart..

.

And the man who fights with rationale.. in my head..shall always loose..

For rationale.. feigns control..

An incomplete drama of scribbled words.. this shall be..

For none can unfold the unrest of love and desires..

The conundrum of what to be.. who to be.. to succumb..

Or to succumb again.. just, to which…. ?

Categories: amibiguity, answers, DREAMS, emotions, expressions, life, love, poetry on life, poetry on love, silence, struggle, the mind | 5 Comments

Musings on time

Image result for time

A grey sheath of stagnant silence…

Soluble darkness..

Dissolution into the surreal flow of night..

Punctured..embellished by the notion of time..

 

Rioting mind muses on..

Only the tick-tock of a mundane clock..

Piercing, distracting.. the still flow..

Ripples of time.. penetrating the mum..

The curve of a ripple postulates a moment..

The tick enunciating the bend..a crisp of time..

 

As life strolls in the direction unknown..

And shreds life into the passage past..

Like the leaves of deciduous tree..

Speaks through the crumpling murmurs of it..with it..it the mind..

The mind.. voices pivoting into their own helix..

It wonders..saunters into realms unbound..

“How can time be still, flow and yet wither away?”

A dimensionless entity.. like the surreal night..

Only absorbed and imprinted on the mind..

 

 

Categories: amibiguity, answers, darkness, life, light, memories, poetry, questions, the mind, time | Leave a comment

Random… Pride..self.. love?the fever.

The burden we call love could easily be hate..

The need to be needed.. the want to be wanted..

The fetal position of the grieving soul..

The penchant for ownership of the soul..

Too weary to follow.. too old to know where it is to be.. where it is to summon itself, to its home?

 

The haughty madam beneath the simpleton..Prays to avenge her pride..

Ain’t she a felon herself?

The girl who pounced in her father’s arms..prays to be set free..

The laughter that kindled her eyes.. the soft lines of nifty smile..

Muffled and ironed beneath the pains of frightful wars fought in her heart…

 

In the end when bones brittle crumple.. and flesh melts..

The hearts surge with combative pain..

Left are two souls lost.. facing  walls grounded on either sides..

The mirror reflecting the ugliness of it all..

In thy own eyes.. the glass shows black..

Pride is harrowing in the pits its own dungeons..

 

Ohh.. the  depths of ditches we dive into..

The sins we commit in the name of love..

Sinful of hateful acts towards self.. and then towards the other..

What is love but a roped..tangled path..

Curious pull.. one strolls and then the moments dribble away..

One is siphoned..tipsy into another Moonlit forest.. another home…

Aren’t you lost yet?

 

Where do you turn when the bridges you built are trampled upon..

Fallen beneath the sea of distance…

When human made altercations.. distractions..  steal the good.. gnarl it from your grasp..

Turn away from home.. to find that you have none..

And only the dungeons and pits.. fraught with felons of your heart..

Where shall you find your freedom now?

Who shall row you back to the haven you once knew?

How shall thee save thyself from distraught nature of thy heart?

Where shall thee find thy home.. thy solace and salvation?

 

 

 

 

 

Categories: amibiguity, crazy, darkness, emotions, expressions, life, loss, lost, love, memories, poetry, poetry on love | 3 Comments

The Reflection in Thy eyes

Tell me do you love me.. tell me..

Tilt that sinful nape, that sweet chin,

Look into my eyes and speak the words that embrace your heart in  solitary despair,

That are clutched by claws, that are floating in the sea of  your blasphemous cravings,

 

I mumble..

I know not..I know not.. I know nothing of love..

But I drench in the words that sway from your eyes,

I folly to walk astray into the fog where your scent drugs my senses,

I forget the windows that shatter light upon us,

My thirst for you caressed by your unearthly beauty,

 

But moments are still only in the moment,

They was past before my lips could part,

And have withered now into lost causes,

I speak words to hide my shadows of rising sensations,

I speak tongues to tell tales wrapped in lines of desolate poetry,

All from my crest of lone recitations,

You ask not, I remain mum,

 

You know not the soul me,

Yet your touch lies here like dew drops on a leaf, You sink in,

The desire, a remembrance stinging like whip on flesh.

Its a string unstrung that tugs me, I fall into you,

 

Tell me your pain, tell me your desires,

Let me flip the pages,

Let me read the lines imprinted beneath your soul’s ledger,

Let me caress your soul as you rest on my bosom,

 

I know not…I know not.. I know nothing of love,

Moments foregone, are crisp memories,

And immerse the heart in the quest for a song,

A song that synch’s with its beat,

Hum’s in the soul’s tongue of its melancholy desires,

A song it finds, but with words that speak no answers,

That tell nothing of the questions that swim,

Swim in the reflection of my soul, only in thy eyes

 

Categories: amibiguity, darkness, emotions, expressions, life, life, love, memories, Music, poetry, poetry on life, silence, soul, the mind, time | Tags: , , | 10 Comments

Infinite Nothingness

Nothing times infinity, infinite nothingness,

Nothingness is also an existence,

Complex Pattern of dots invading the space, all nothingness is the real goddamn universe,

Is there a pattern, a system of existence or is it all sham? A dupe, a game played by the mind?

The mind too is a pattern, a system, but is it really a system by itself?

Or is it just a processor, the real mind is all around us, and we are a part of it,

You stare hard at a white page, there are dots you can’t see, and there ain’t any patterns,

Look closer through those lenses and your mind manufactures the patterns,

Addicted to finding structure when there is just chaos,

Chaos of so many minds processing in each tick tock a capsule of momentary existence,

The continuity of capsules forming a complex pattern, as these patterns repeat,

Facts and fixtures are searched for and formed,

Memories formed from a trail left behind by the capsules,

Left behind is a fragrance, sometimes a stench, sometimes just a bland taste,

Sewing facts with memories a sinister game sparking off emotions,

Threads of memories intertwining, a proof of existence,

But which memory is true to its form? And which one is your pattern of facts?

Spinning of time adds its own flavors to the memory,

Existence takes the form of complex numerical, which part is real, and which is imaginary?

Or is existence by itself abstract? And I try to fit it into the patterns of real and imaginary,

Abstract existence is nothingness, infinite nothingness.

P.S- The picture sort of gives the feeling of infinite nothingness.

Categories: amibiguity, life, physics, poetry, the mind | Tags: , , , , , | 4 Comments

Stilled Time?

STILLED TIME?

Still, all that exits is still, all the exits is stillness,

You sit on the flat earth, neither do your eyes roll, nor does your chest heave to breathe,

You sit and watch just in one dimension,

The clouds don’t pass, nor do you see the wings flutter past the blackness,

All that you see is neither dark nor light, it’s nothing,

The mighty sun is just there, or not there, as it ain’t not giving light anymore, keeping it all to itself,

Light does not traverse either, so there is no light, as there is just stillness,

A still world, as all we see is mono-dimensional,

In an existence as such, what could time mean?

Where nothing was relative to another,

Time, it would cease to exist, wouldn’t it? As whoever heard of stilled time?

Time exits, rising from our need to expand in dimensions, to move,to keep moving,

Time an enigma yet as simple as “a measured step, how fast can you take it”?

Fast a word by time, aah, the frustration when one tries to untangle time in singularity,

Stillness ain’t of this world indeed,

But what if, just what if you stood blindfolded,

The memory of each passing second abolished at the birth of the next, would you still know time?

Stilled time existing in an infinitesimally timed unit,

What if you were just a thought? Could you bear to digest that?

And what you thought was another universe plying parallel to yours in another time,

Each thought, each wishful memory recreating the past, existing in your present,

Yes now, the seconds already lived relived in another timed zone writing another story of your life,

Each wish for your future sculpting a universe that lives and breathes with you in it, as you live in your thoughts now,

An old memory, still running and rerunning in another timed zone,

Then our universe, what would it be? can you see it?

It seems as though a coalesce of thoughts, clusters forming universes and galaxies,

And time? Well, is it still?

As all that passes, passes in its most non-defined, minutest span of time,

Time abolishing time,self combustion,

And pervading infinite stillness, maybe just maybe in real time stilled time does exist?

P.S-  Another unit of time, another year has gone by, Happy new year!:)

Well I have always found time to be an enigma, making everything seem like an illusion, and well I did watch interstellar which fuelled my urge to understand the whole concept, well I failed, but did jot down a few thoughts:)

Categories: amibiguity, life, poetry, time | Tags: , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Do you know who you are?

Do you know you are? Do you know what exactly are you doing right now and why? What do you see around yourself? Do you a natural way of life or do you see natural elements dipped in and clasped in elixir made of man made minerals and sheaths of the same cast wounded stiffly around it. Do these minerals have any base in nature? If they do, has the base dissolved and now all that is only the nonstop assault of a sand storm that blinds you? Look in, take of that fur coat off, it’s a coat that looks pleasant from the outside to the cataract eyes but bites your skin eating at your naked flesh. Now that you are naked, take those shades off, what do you see? Don’t you see just a creature on two legs?? Don’t you see yourself standing alone? Don’t you see each soul covered in flesh standing alone as naked as you, its flesh what is so shameful about it?

What is that you were clutching on too? Give it few good moments, let its sheath come off, tear through it layers, does it exist anymore? Is there a solid bark you touch, is there a hole left there, isn’t there just a vacuum?  The same stillness permeating through you and around you, do you feel it? What was it you were holding on to? Which piece of pie was it, variety of social norms; can you see thy society now? What do you see, blobs of light, emanating from those souls sans flesh, possibly still or probably treading in circles. What is that you holding in your hand again? Look at it, Oh it’s just a natural element given a shape by your lot, but the iron clad aura around it, shatter it, shatter it with your minds ax, does it have the horsepower to do that or are the shape’s layers in your hand too coarse to penetrate? Now come on, you made it, it has to be brittle when you want it to be, gone now, has it?? What is left was what existed around you with you since the elusive trickster, time came into existence. Now do you smell reality? What was that before? Wasn’t it an illusion? Now do you know who are? What were you doing and why are you doing?

Are you still writhing in pain? Does that cloud of pain and its life cell still exist? Don’t you see you made it, then you wore it, you drank all it had to offer, no questions asked, then you forgot to live without it, you forgot yourself, don’t you see what you make, takes over and ruins your soul in turn? It’s happened and is happening all around you, every moment the delusional palace that you have built entices your lot, its delusional offerings pull all towards its different orifices and walls, now we are herd of addicts. We live in continuum ache and we melt in euphoria and you let the illusion drape itself around you and guide you since you are now blind.

We all stand alone on one ground, and we want to create more gradation, more divide, more paths carved to tread on, dividing the ground by its lines. We see each other yet we don’t see the real us. We are clogged within those boundaries, we are trapped by our own norms, and the illusion is driving us out of our own selves. We make, we let it posses, we drink its nectar, it becomes poison and then we are in ruins and we live among those ruins, gathering ourselves again and again and again. Do you know who you are yet?

P.S- Its an unedited unconscious flow of thoughts

Categories: amibiguity, life | 4 Comments

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