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 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

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.

Posted in 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

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.

 

 

 

Posted in art, change, DREAMS, emotions, expressions, freedom, HOPE, life, living, poetry on life

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.

 

Posted in courage, DREAMS, emotions, expressions, friends, HOPE, life, living, love, memories, poetry, poetry on life, strength, struggle, the mind, time, youngsters

Simple Friendship

Its called friendship you know..

The light in my eyes.. at a simple smile in yours..

The spark when hopes shines through the tunnel..

The Rebellious laugh when the fortitude gives away..

Our bizarre plans blow against the wind..

And we rise victorious surfacing at the shortest stairwells clambered..

Its the smile and laugh my heart craves..

Its the pain my soul wills to diminish..

Thy tender heart.. understands my pain.. and mine yours..

Its simple touch of human likeness..

 

Its called friendship you know..

The pain inflicted on you..reflects in my eyes..

As does in yours..

The tremor in your voice.. finds a helpless flutter in my heart..

But when your words sting.. to where shall I turn..

For it is your presence that soothes my pain..

Yet.. I know.. you shall be there when I turn back..

For a sincerest person like you..is hard to find..

 

Forgive my anomalies dear..

Harbor no ill of me.. You find place in my pain..

But more so in .. more so in carefree laughter..

Pondering.. I find your heart pure..

And mine wishing only the place of a life long friend  in pain and gay remembrance..

And your life to ride to your dearest hopes and dreams.

For Its simple friendship.. you know.

 

Dedicated to a dear friend… its a few simple words.. I couldn’t find ways to disguise my ways.

 

 

Posted in CHILDREN, INNOCENCE, life, living, poetry on life, poetry on love

Live Like a Child

Live Like a Child

I was born.. but I found not the meaning of birth..

If you died, A sudden embark to a land beyond.. You couldn’t fathom death either..

I lived an innocence.. Forgotten for long..Then I lived in it from the out..

The fight for a candy.. Moments pass… huddled together with silly smiles..pink tongues..

Candies.. toys.. A run across the fields heedless of the sundown.. or the scorcher sunshine…

I felt the hallucinations we impose on thy innocence… I felt the trysts we curse it with..

Now you are mashed, molded, drained, rushing towards a speck of life you see afar.. ..

You know your colors well, but see them as spots.. Unseeing them in nature’s joyous endowment..

You know the variances.. but you forgo.. then turn away from the nature of their wondrous existence..

But I lived in it from the out.. you must to.. Because it’s in you, waiting to clutch your finger with its tiny palm..

Flip the pages of your learnt lyrics of life to the moments you cherished as a child..

Fight not for lands.. Fight not for the end you know not of.. be not a foe to a brother in another color..

Be not in combat with kindness.. let it sway you to the hedge of your paths..

Let it lead you to the forest of fallen leaves..  yellow..green..orange.. dancing colors on the trees..

Fear not the paths yet to come.. fluster not about the paths you leave..

Run in the fields as you would.. for you live a life unknown..

To know you must live like nature..  Flair in colors that make you smile

Stagger not my child, autumn is here..

The crisp sound as you walk.. is the sound of a new flourishing time to come..

I reveled in living.. Skipping away from the ways to live..

I cradled the child.. nudged it awake..teaching it to breathe again.. as if a baby in deep slumber..

One fine day..soon you might serve nature your bequest.. A creation..

Then you might know birth.. the tears of joy would stir you eyes..and your heart..

Death of thy friend is sad for footsteps are heard no more..

It made me stop in my trial.. leaves breathed no more.. only the sun flickered in my  eyes..

Memories in the wrinkled minds.. soft fragrance blows in the breeze..ruffles your feathered mind..

Your friend..Your brother…you sister..the hands you held.. and the sunshine..

The autumn leaves and the colors that ravished the fields.. fill your heart with the music of past joy…

Your heart with sweet smiles.. the moments you lived like a child..

To the beyond them might pass… and you might pass..

But the winds shall remember the brush of your smile as you ran and you lived like a child.