change

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

Device to creation

Hi all.. bit of a long post..a few thoughts about living without infringement of artificial devices.. about hope:)

Device to creation

The glare of the machines, ain’t it piercing your eyes..?

Ain’t your brain mewling in puddles yet?

Or is it numb.. Static.. Too hefty for reception of candid natural frequencies..

The titter in your back pocket, The rings of banter…glib chatter.. 

Moments lost with the mind in the cloud.. watching the creations through a lens..glued unto itself 

Looking at expressions in loosely connected words of others… through the machines..just looking

Do you not want to express? Do you not want to leave yourself behind in the dust.. Become the morsels.. Feel the friction..

Galvanize with those expressions?

The cloud .. Ain’t it suckling on the juices of thy mind.. transmitting posed moments about the world seen not..

The square shaped device.. all the heart has to say and mind has to spawn ..spilled into it..hopes of another catching a whiff..

Aren’t you a device yet? Mind glazed, buttons rickety?

4 thick walls… a glass window… And knots in your heart..

None to drown your evenings with..

None to delve deeper with, wander around with on trails of thoughts..

Lonesome.. unlearnt and deaf to the sound of the life created as it was..

Music of the Life thee was created into.. melancholy and gay.. yet riveting and arousing..

There is none of that now.. The time has spindled back..

Roll back… daze into a time before it all..

Resting in a shack.. Skin to skin with the earth.. blinking at the day from the window of thy soul..

At the foot of the hills dressed in clouds.. Tresses grey.. White..in a whirlwind..

Clouds like typhoon around the sun.. sauntering around the mountains at its mundane pace..

Stroll miles along the slippery path…lush green hedges..

Drenched Muddied path.. Water seeps through pores from nowhere..

Rough boulders piled in heaps..purple weeds peaking from amidst…

Gusts of wind.. Tinge of salt in the airs..Climb atop… To the breathless expanse befriending the horizon..

The eyes meet salvation in such formidable yet unhinged nature.. 

The brazenly beautiful sight of the ocean.. 

Somber Waves Caressing the sand.. 

Feisty waters rising , crashing until called back to the ocean.. It’s true home..

Muffled laughter of lads savoring their freedom..mingled with lull of the sea.. 

Maidens gay with laughter.. Women soaking the sun… cajoling their dumplings..

Chattering of their lives.. some mellow.. some shelving the sorrows in their eyes..

Yet all in their hearts.. knowing the pain of the other.. glowing in the happiness of the other..

Ain’t thy heart alive.. Almost as though thy first breath is relived every passing minute..

Mind hungry.. And yet free from shackles.. Clinging to nothing..

Breathing just as thee is.. In soothing harmony with the ensembles of the Jarring beauty..

Filled with hope… Ain’t your heart smiling into you? Almost as though your long time mate.. Closest confidant..

Thy is Feasting on the simplicity… yet the unbridled truth of creation that engulfs thee..

If thee sauntered into the fields of imagination.. Or swung with the true ripples of nature..

The parchment waiting.. for the spill of secrets you unearth from the day..

Would be inked with the vibrant freedom that thy mind is engrossed in.

Lost and found you are , as you was.. One with the permeating nature of glorious creation.

 

Categories: art, change, DREAMS, emotions, expressions, freedom, HOPE, life, living, poetry on life | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

India’s Daughter

India’s Daughter- It leaves you shaking. Nothing that you don’t know or haven’t heard. But listening to those bloody Non-Living beings (do words exist? words for them can’t exist) who unfortunately think and breathe and live, it makes you feel empty inside, the brutality, those thoughts, the ideas. You feel no hope, you know there is not a chance that eradication of evil will ever be a reality, all we can do is prevent, heal, punish. Because there is no cause, a need for power that has crossed the line of need and is just a habit, rape and abuse is a habit, brutality is a habit, yeah, imagine that, no cause for that makes any sense.

Now that’s a very good documentary, how in the devil’s name does it corrupt our culture, how is it insensitive for a culturally sensitive society to be watching the film. Talking about rape, its effects, the thought process that supports and instigates it, how can that be culturally insensitive, dumb, plain dumb.

First of all, at the risk of sounding like a completely confused 21st century young adult, what is our culture again? Is it about tolerance, respect, upholding ideals, or what, just dancing on durga puja and ganesh festivals, talk about destruction of evil, protection, women power, ghar ki lakhsmi and blah blah.. Yeah right let’s never talk about the culture of rape and abuse to make sure our ego is never deflated, Lets sweep that under the mat, keep it locked behind doors and let the acts thrive on the mats behind the locked doors. The awesome façade of Indian culture, lets keep that up.
I am sure the good of our culture does pervade into certain streets, into certain homes and certain arenas of our life, but lets face it, we are hardly ever tolerant in our everyday life towards other’s thoughts, towards change,we like deciding what the another must to do with his or her life. And that never helps build a society which is a safety net for not only women but those to whom life shows its ugliest face. I talk about our community cause I that’s all I have experienced.

But why is it so difficult to talk about the real evil, the squirming worms in the minds of so many and the stinky words that leave their tongues. Why not watch that, acknowledge that, accept that.Why not rip off those tongues?
If I had my way, I would make sure the judges not only lost their jobs, and if not have them hung at least make sure they ended up in one of the jails with the best of the brutal criminals who have crossed all limits with men and women. They could talk with them about our Indian culture then and how its no place for a woman,lets see how long it saves them,..enjoy you”%$2$@$”!

Yeah sounds like revenge, but peace can only get you only so far. Laws-please have them define human before applying them to human beings. The idea is not to follow an ideal, it is to save lives, realize the value of a “human” life and act upon it. If intervention at an early age through education can nurture the minds, can save those ones who are broken and are on the edge or are about to cross over to a path from from where there is no return, save them, heal those who need the healing but drown those who actually deserve death, painful death in lava.

Categories: change, criminals, darkness, documentary, feminism, human rights, India, india's daughter, life, rape | Tags: , , , , | 3 Comments

Cocoon of Freedom

Do you become what you hate?

Do you become what you love?

Or do you only love what you can’t become?

Or do you love only your reflection in every grain of sand?

What we carve our souls into, is already a mould,

It has thorns, it has nails, and it leeches onto the images our eyes clasp onto,

Every crisp notion of existence I have was a haze before,

It lay stale, rotting in the fungus that was fed to my mind,

At a time when the world I fathomed to exist, existed in only patterns of right and wrong,

And I chose to clutch the trailing thoughts of others,

I stuttered to express what I did not understand,

 I raveled myself in which I bludgeoned myself to believe,  

 

 A ferry waited at the end of my dying stammering self,

One fateful night I met the night guard at the bank,

He asked me if I wanted to crossover then, morning the ferry would be gone,

I collected the shattered pieces of my mind; some jagged ends bled my soul,

On the way I tripped on the tightly laced shoes,

 Then left them near the old tree from where hung ragged clothes, masks and shoes,

Barefoot, I got onto the ferry and set off to the other side,

To find missing pieces of my mind,

To be in presence of those colors of light,

 As the beams passed by my soul, images under the veiled reality would form,

Focusing from infinity to a my finite existence, a surreal view,

Yet an existence where my soul could breathe and could trace the waves,

The curved turbulence that sounded the hymns and curses sung by own mind,

Mindlessness was a destructive interference of rays trapped in a cottage,

 Walls camouflaged by words scripted by others,

I burnt it down, but the fire still crackles, smoke still blows in the wind,

 

A rusted bridge, a path appears every fortnight,

 A path back to the village of my dying thoughts,

Though much gibberish, mutters my mind, and obscure images, see my eyes,

I shan’t climb that bridge,

Heart is a nomad, but it resides in this land now,

Though tormented by the unknown, it is enlightened,

 But the ground is slippery, is cracked and heated, feet are sore and blistered, and nights are chilly,

Yet the solitude is comforting,

 As my fixation with my baffling shell of infinite reality is my cocoon of freedom.

 

Categories: change, darkness, emotions, expressions, life, love, love oneself, memories, mindset, poetry, poetry on life, questions, re-incarnation, soul, the mind, time | Tags: , , | Leave a comment

Random

Its been a long time since I have sketched anything, Usually I am just sitting and doodling away, trying to clear my head but this time I was listening to some instrumental music. That is because since long planning I have been  to introduce music and art together to my students in this form.

I have always found structure, rules, answers and conclusions to be limiting. How can one ever know anything for sure, but the mind being a set of electrical pipelines that tends to find and needs a form or structure to relate to, Or it just makes something non structured into a structure. However, I find that just letting my pen take over, questioning everything with a why and how opens the mind up. I never find any conclusive answers, just more questions questioning the previous answer.

 

 

DSC_0269

Categories: amibiguity, art, change, CRAZY ART, emotions, expressions, life, Music | 6 Comments

Crazy Art Edited-Random

DSC_0099 (1)-001 DSC_0099 (1)-002 DSC_0099-001
DSC_0099-003DSC_0099-002 So I just drew this random sketch,(( that’s the last one), to me it looked quite bland, not sure why.. Guess variety was missing, so I decided to have some fun with it and edited it into versions.. 🙂

 

Categories: art, blogging, change, CRAZY ART, life | Tags: , | 2 Comments

Scales Of Evolution

balance

Human was not born into this world,

Only evolved from the animals we call beasts today,

Before the evolution tipped the scales,

The seas, the mountains the earth, the petals, the weeds

The shells, the sand, the morsels of life that traversed with the wind,

The earth bubbled in its serene existence with zealous purity,

The purity that a mountain spring sprinkles upon the dwellers,

Flowing sometimes stealthily,

At times flowing with an exuberant force,

Young and vibrant in search of new lands to explore,

All the forms of life, large and dynamic, shrewd and slippery,

Roaring and domineering, small and fastidious,

Lived on these streams, on those springs

They pounded the land when in need,

Their formidable yet magnificent animalistic power shook the earth

But the scales were always left balanced,

Logic, a reason that led to rise of another species,

Nameless multifarious species rather,

This age, Evolution is taking a toll as one species looses itself in a whirlwind of its own creations,

This day, this period of earth’s and its dwellers lives,

The springs, the air, the pure forces of life infected by the viral uproar,

Are drying up, worse corrupting all that it touches,

And vanquishing the purity to graveyards dug by our evolved mindlessness,

Or rather mindfully shrewd actions,

Foolish we are to think our time immortal,

Trapped we are in the science we harrowed out from this earth,

Entangled we are in our own traditions and thoughts,

Thoughts that were led by reason once are today shackled by the lack of it,

As we abhor change, obnoxiously pride ourselves on our social systems,

As we evolve into what evolution had never fathomed possible.

It’s time to rename ourselves,

Unless we let the springs sprinkle us again,

Clean the dirt, the marsh,

We assimilate, we mellow down,

We withdraw and loosen our adamant sense of ownership,

We melt the shackles of power,

Mold the molten steely power into the axe that could bring to surface our former self

Or make it the magical ingredient,

An ingredient added in potions drunk by us to turn into the personification of godliness,

A godliness that is stirred with drops of devil’s blue blood to tip the scale towards a balance.

Let’s reach, let spiral back to the point of incidence of human and beast.

Categories: amibiguity, change, Economic Disparity, education system, emotions, expressions, feminism, Hypocricy, life, life, mindset, Moralizing, poetry, poetry on life, re-birth, re-incarnation, silence, society, soul, the mind | 2 Comments

My Book Of Dreams

DSC_0090

My book of dreams

I have one that is stowed beneath my pillows

Pillows of need and momentary salvations

Yet my subconscious sleeps on it every moment.

 

It is the one,

The one for which I breathe smoke, and dry air

In adamant desire of breathing in the scent of “the path”

A path decked with petals, monuments of hope and life,

 

The book, its existence is the reminder,

Reminder of my purpose,

This book when lost, Leaves me barren, void,

Stranded, only hanging on the hands of the clock, tick tock

 

I fear its loss,

I fear its burial in the grounds of rotten cowardice,

Air drenched with the stench of stale worthlessness

And pettiness of delusional grief

 

Frail pages, burnt at the corners,

Illegible scribbling and scratching, rewriting of my souls whisperings,

The writing in the book blurs, like it has now

The skepticism and powerlessness of a lost soul, dissolves the ink even more

 

Where can I find the quill?

The quill with the memory of all that is missing,

Quill endowed with the boon of inerasable ink,

Quill that breathes life into the minuscule scriptures,

 

Maybe it’s hidden in between the pages,

Or maybe it’s the key to an anew cave, where I could write on stone

Engrave it and let my soul fly in and out, feed on the fervor of the aromatic cave

Or maybe it’s right here in between my fingers, awaiting my orders.

 

P.S-I edited one of my doodles:)

P.S- And it just sort of happened to match today’s daily prompt-Fearless Fantasies.. so I am gonna to include a Ping back! 🙂

Categories: art, change, darkness, emotions, expressions, life, love oneself, me, mindset, poetry, poetry on life, soul, the mind | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 9 Comments

Naked Soul

Surrendering, sinking

Letting the soul succumb to its weakness

Sliding off the peripheral skin

Moving away from the consciousness,

And letting sub conscious reign the way

And letting the colors of self float into another palate,

Unsuspecting of the dark colors that could form

Reveling in the thrill of a unwonted impulses

Unknown to the corrosion of thee soul,

The bright colors, the light peaceful ones are now clouded

Letting another change self,

Graciously melting into another being,

Floating through the fear of being seen

Naked soul traverses through winding lanes

Lost in a whirlwind of tears and smiles

It sees hints of slashes and hears the shrieks

Realization dawn’s that a voice inside is dying,

It is being buried alive,

It is being shunted and is lost, the soul is blistered

Its own magical colors,

Its chameleon powers have been stolen, ripped off

Or simply dissolved and lost its essence,

It, the naked soul now silently searches for its adornments

Finding them in a corner, its voice and its fight,

It redresses and inches back,

It gathers its allies,

And chooses the colors it wants,

It distills and finds its true elements,

Clutching in its hand its sub consciousness

Tenderly nurturing it, and listening to its silent stories

Letting it heal and reform into anew self,

Surrender, the soul has learn its lesson on it

A naked soul stands naked surrendering only to self now.

Categories: amibiguity, change, emotions, expressions, life, love, love oneself, poetry, poetry on life, re-incarnation, the mind | Tags: , , , , , , | 5 Comments

Mutation beyond Recognition

The heart screams out,

It screams and dies a death every time,

Every time a daughter is raped by her dad,

A son is beaten and his dignity stolen and shred to pieces,

Sometimes seeing in print, sometimes seeing the devastation after in being,

From one animal to another, have we gone beyond being an animal?

Sunk lower than the lowest ones,

Have our thoughts become mutated?

Mutated beyond recognition and resurrection?

Section so and so, section so and so, out comes the law book,

A book scripted to bench the crime, not do away with it,

A law book scripted to give benefits of doubt,

Find evidence, find evidence, I must be followed, It says,

For I am the sole way out you see, I am irreplaceable,

You have endowed me with powers and now I overpower you,

Laws of nature, Is its original copy unedited, missing a section?

Or has it been muddled up and left with gaping loop holes,

A sight being replayed since the time of our epics,

When the court of books and all the noble souls stood watching,

Noble dastardly souls, with immense courage to stand by their laws,

But not an ounce of it to stand for humanity, overpowered they were you see,

As the laws rip apart a world it had tried to make human,

Today we meekly stand and see the grave yard expanding,

Graveyard of pained souls, Graveyard of revengeful spirits,

All awaiting their turn to return, sharpening their canines to tear and masticate the demons,

But alas, No urban law, no International court of justice to push back and curb this expansion and invasion!

Have we no way to heal the wounds? No way to pulverize the mansion of evil?

No way to grind it to minuscule particles?

I envision a momentous win when these particles would have no nucleus,

No polarity to reform,

No limbs to capture what belonged to our humankind.

Categories: change, emotions, expressions, Hypocricy, life, mindset, poetry, poetry on life, society | Tags: , , | 4 Comments

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