answers

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

Etching On.

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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

Do you search for those words as I do..

Why do you write so? What inspires you to do so?  

Which portions of your life befriend you to do so?

What makes you pick that pen up and scrawl those words?

Matters that pour nuisances of you heart and more so of your mind on the parchment.. why do you write?

I write out of sheer boredom engulfing my shelf life here.. Or do I?

The agony of a mind fanning its own thoughts..

I write to forge a bond with myself..

I write to loosen the knot in my bare hands..

The knot between bare hands? Yes.. the fidgety fingers fumbling..

Pondering what has become of the self I knew yesterday?

I write wondering shall I ever be that prolific dispeller of words… who writes with ignatious ..an unabashed flair…

From whose beacon of riveting knowledge shall I glean that uninhibited figurative tongue?

Fuse words of boisterous beauty.. Purging impudent purity … honest in in its picturesque candor..

A language of man… nature .. laden with no pompous substance but only the essence of poetry..

Poetry that peels the layers, draws the vulnerability in the eyes of man..

Shall I ever touch the hearts and minds lighter in joy.. foster the soft naive rush of unhinged emotions..

Fill their smiles with a knowing that these clumsy words indeed spell the unknown clusters in there hearts..

Shall I ever revive the light in the eyes of those men.. Lasses and humble beings in pain..

They who know not how to touch their own wounds.. barren for words..

Why does thee perspire to rise with the sun and ride to the time..

What in thy soul has life of its own? And what shines the light in the darkest corners..

Kneads into shape your empire of dust time and again.. kindles the fire wood in cottage..

Like the shepherd thee rises with dawn.. Hoping to find what thee looks for.. 

Stare at the mountains.. clamber the hills.. search for the  lion with the humbling mane.. horrific yet dangerously prideful and beautiful..

Search for the maiden who calls thy name.. search for yourself in the galore of beings one sees..

Oh..Why do you write so? Why do you perspire so?

What it is that leave’s your touch as the sun breaks sleep..

What is it that saunters in your eyes in the day.. haunts your heart by dusk..

Do you search for the man.. as I do.. 

Weave words like needles were carving scriptures from your mind onto this plain parchment for epiphany..for sake of epiphany

Do you search for those words as I do.. words that bind you to you..

 

Categories: answers, DREAMS, emotions, expressions, HOPE, humanity, life, poetry, poetry on life, questions, strength, struggle, the mind | Tags: , , , , , , | 5 Comments

Oh Shush Shush

A piercing splinter tears apart the soul’s periphery.

I ponder; did a cane pass through dragging, leave behind what it wouldn’t miss?

Or a rose placed artfully on the soul grow on its thorn, It was plucked leaving behind the prickly bit..

It’s such a blur; it won’t stall for a moment of retrospect or introspect,

Breath is the wind blowing the wretched splinter in circles, a horrendous stormy weather,

It leaves thy home in a pile of powdery remains, clustered fragments of curtained images…

It leaves thy inner child panting and wheezing, clutching in places,

Colored in red-brown dust, the color of eyes, the color of blood,

 A darting arrow from the eyes of the strangest stranger splits it open..

The color of the red syrup slurps through the tear, The wound is to be dug deeper before healed..

The heart is to die again..and again and again.. 

In penance for the acts of desperation; Death of the heart is necessary,

Pain is an addiction, It traps your breath, But you are left feeling alive, just alive is the real alive;

It is audaciously exchanged for the empty vastness, where one is not in the desert, but beneath it..

 

Oh shush shush, silence the sounds of the restless breaths,

 And the splinter shall stall for a moment of freedom and rest,

Raise thy torrid eye, look into the sky,

Watch the clouds afloat, row through still air, silent breeze;

 Watch the sky crack to reveal a bluer stillness,  

Oh shush shush..

Breeze flows on the tracks of life, life that thrives in arid, humid, torrential days and climaxes,

 Felt in the eyes, like a feathered touch on the skin, the unruffled flow of life in the strangest of times,

 Flutters of the tiny sparrow’s wings, sudden thrashing and then for a moment afloat in the lazy wind,

Reaching her nest after a day of grains, straws and droplets of water,

Rampaging from wall to wall, beneath rare shadows and scorching rays,

The quivering tips of darkest of green leaves swaying in surrender, slightest momentum released,

Oh shushed are you?

Does the pain now sail away with the breeze?

 Does the vacuum fill with sights of nature, the tiniest electrifying moments, the miraculous breadth of life?

The splinter slain to unconsciousness, Breathe in deep the peculiar scent of nature afresh,

Dear mind, Oh shush..ponder away from consciousness drugged in constant spiralling stale pain,

Stride into the invigoratingly alive life, Stroll away from thy own trepidations,

For the cures, the answers lie in the breeze, the clouds..

The flutter and the quiver, the tremor as nature breathes with thee in solace,

Carrying you to home indeed, Releasing you to breathless nomadic winds, just as you are..only standing there..shushed in your heart.

Categories: answers, emotions, expressions, freedom, HOPE, INNOCENCE, life, life, light, memories, mindset, poetry, poetry on life, poetry on love, strength | Tags: , , , , , | Leave a comment

Just thoughts on a soul from a..soul?

We all come from a place and are in a place, where we want love, we desire it. We scorn our desires, so that they remain at bay, but love, It’s a hunger that never stagnates. It could take us to dark places as easily as could take us where we want to be. Love, they say is peace, is freedom. But how? ..Since so is death. We all need to find an idea, a synthesis, and a hypothesis of life to cling on to, till we have the noose around our neck. Sounds dark? Well, it’s only an observation.

The human soul is infinite, unbound in its illusions. Snippets of so many emotions, desires conflicting and thoughts and answers contradicting, all within a design forged by the mind- a soul.  We are souls, really? But we don’t really know what we are; I forget what that means, a soul.. but do I know what that really means, do you? It’s an undefined entity. But it’s a marvel how we have managed to define and find a picturesque entity to contain the infinity within ourselves. And we say at the root of our life, of our soul is the seed of love.  Love is the seed, or should I call it the earth? And maybe soul could be called the seed. We have risen so high in our evolutions, branches like aspirations, fallen leaves like fallen souls in bits and pieces, rotten fruits as we let them rot by overfeeding or leaving them hungrier and refuse to touch them, naive buds- we pick them off before they bloom to become what they could be, though we sap water from our earth we can no more feel its true touch and or thrive in its real fragrance. I am just guessing and inking an evolving hypothesis, after all, how would I know what is real and true? Or was it always like this?

At times we look down and search for the real love, and we grow hungry, we want it from others and we decide that we are in love with them because we want their love. But what is love then? If it’s not want, if it’s not desire, maybe it’s rather to just see and be, thrive in each other’s presence, touch not hold, not cling, but the hungrier we grow, the more want ,the more we desire, the less we love.  As desires melt and conjoin into each other, we find solace in each other, but what if these desires wan, when tick of the hand takes you elsewhere and your mate elsewhere, not physically but when the wants of your soul part ways, when needs of the soul are left barren, love departs, but love, can it depart?

Soul, it’s the n dimensional sense we have as we can feel, see and perceive so many things at once as long as we are aware that we can. But what is the most powerful sense, is it the sound of another’s voice, or the look in another’s eye, the typical motherly fragrance, or is it touch, touch of another living being. I was going to say human, but I think I can say living being in a broad sense.  I am sure we have all felt the power of these senses, in leading us towards or away. A touch can bring you back from your insanity, from your internal shivering self to illusion of calm. I remember it happening quite recently a touch of a friend bringing me to the atmosphere that was pushing me into my own hell, just bringing me back to contained self even in that.  I even remember the look that pushed me to rise, or that lead me astray.  We all do, don’t we? We all love and writhe and whimper, laugh, smile and in our memories, we dream dreams that make us crave, and more so because we know how delusional we are. Memories and dreams, both the karma of and the route to want, need and …love?

When we walk down a road full of strangers, and we see just living beings strolling and we see the life, the web we have built. We are going on and on and on. But we are within that web, like the expanding universe, we are moving on and on and on and are yet static. But we are moving together and we are held together by that force that runs deep down even in our earth, let’s call it love and not gravity?

Just entangling, and untangling the thoughts in my mind… but whenever I think, I find an answer and then I have another question questioning it and I have forgotten the answer, it’s an infinite loop.

Categories: answers, blogging, life, soul | Tags: , , , , | 3 Comments

Mountain of Carcass

He crawled all the way up the mountain, fire crackled like an amber beneath it through the cracks,

Chained wrists, chained ankles,

He climbed on his knees dragging along the heated path, leaving melted flesh behind,

He climbed staring up at the sky, eyes transfixed far ahead,

In love and enticed by the devil that lay sprawled serenely on the blackened night,

Passing a dead man, a familiar face, was it his own?

Yet he dare ask, “why thee lay there? Hasn’t thee found death yet?

The dead man, dead eyes, croaked in a whisper “where is thee heading to? Hath thee no master?

Is your hell too sweet to live in and was your heaven lost before you knew it, for you head neither way”

“God was damned when he made you and me,

He resides now in my devil,

Evil and godly god each a wing of the fatale angel,

Angel in whose silver mane are tangled lies of a beguile kind,

I drag by knees to the that grey peak of the mountain of carcass, I need mine back”

Dead man smiles, his lips twisting into a wry crooked line,

“You head to the cave of the dead souls of the dead monks”

Narrowed eyes of the crawling man who asks “dead souls of dead monks!Are their souls in the motherly clasp of their god, or have they been set free at last,

Has their freedom been of any use?

Have they found the seeds of dead humanity?

Have they succumbed to the angel’s deadly touch, I have questions for him, she has my carcass, too”

“You must trudge on dear brother, I am a dead man who collapsed before he saw his angel,

I have no answers to pacify thy burning soul or heal thy scraped bones”

Dragging, and gagging his mouth with his ripped pieces of clothes,

Nude in the face of the eerie descending cloud of the angel’s breath,

Would he find what he thought was his propriety, his carcass, his departing fractured soul,

Or would he sell his brittle self to the angel of death and love, and join the dead monks,

I want him to stand eye to eye and burn with the angel in her embrace,

Draw her love from her stoned heart and liven the soft caress in her eyes,

For conjoint with her soul, can he find the answers of god and death, love and humanity.

Categories: answers, humanity, life, love, poetry on life, questions | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

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