questions

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

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

Parasites in the heart.

Holding a grudge or feelings of animosity towards someone never ends well

Resentment.. grudge..

Parasites fowling the heart..

 

Down with fever.. a friend is lost in the bouts of anger.

Words sting.. yet apologies are never rendered..

 

Mind ain’t numb.. its an unforgiving wreck.. growling of nonsensical scenarios..

Its motto,  I never understood.. it tames the buried demons..

 

Who is to blame for the tears that strain the mind..  the eyes that trust none..?

The will-less childish heart.. an ego that barges open wounds..?

Or the man..the friend who pledged to be by thy side.. but falters now and then..?

 

Human heart and its follies..

A self image that casts a shadow of narcissistic caveats on thy disposition..

When must the “I” disappear? when must it save thy soul?

 

Can it suffer in silence as the parasite nudges and slithers hissing at the door..

Can it dissolve its misogynistic ruckus.. oblige the good monk  who seeks solace..

 

It would do either..but which? who shall choose? The “I”, the mind, the heart?

Aren’t the three the same.. or are they?

Categories: emotions, expressions, life, poetry, questions, the mind | Tags: , , , | 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

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

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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