Of New Years and Learning

You always run out of words at moments like these, I usually don’t have much to say usually , even if you are asked questions like what was your year like? My eyes start to wander haphazardly, scanning the environment I’m in to sap anything that could save me from it but alas, I pretty much always end up scoring squat and a handful of embarrassment.
If one thing in your life is involuntary, that is learning(apart from engorgement),it doesn’t work the other way round, once you learn something, you cannot undo it. That was one of my earlier aims ,I always wanted to learn something unique, the answers that most of the people don’t usually bother about, maybe they are clever enough to understand the futility of such things, unfortunately I’m not that cognitively blessed as others. The point being you are always learning things(important) and the universe pushes you towards them helping you to make the apparent and logical choices in the course of learning ,to be precise: it’s better to stay away from bullshit.
My year was like any other, pretty much routine, would it change things if you start to categorize them and placing them high on your life cupboard as trophies, what is gone is gone and what is to come will come no matter what you say or do , rendering all your resentments, your plans to a big ball of useless yarn. What I actually did was to learn in this year , I learned to live in the moment; sounds a little too dramatic but that’s what I did. I quit worrying about things, I started ignoring the ‘regrets’( by viewing them as lessons), yes, there was not much of an “intellectually stimulating” scenario but I definitely learned to have fun right. I learned to use alcohol and marijuana, instead of being used by ‘them’. I learned to use my ‘words’ right. I learned humility could trump almost anything. I learned the simple ways are the probable best ways of executing things and the most important I got better at what I think I am best at –being zen(read “not giving a fuck”), so it was a good year after all as I am still alive and punching words. So, my advice would be to stop worrying, I think it’s all fine till you are alive, eating and fucking , rest all is just secondary. So, until next year , Adios!

Prisoner Of Birth

I've been having this strange dream, where the world is a sycamore and me, a strangulated corpse on one of its branches 

but I'm not alone,many smiling faces , all garroted , hanging by umbilical cords around their vocal cords.

I was a prisoner of my birth and it was slowly juicing the life out of me.

The Death Of Me

"Follow my whims, they beckon you with a bellowing howl but I,
I'm wildfire that burns in perpetuity and you,
you are that light drizzle that I need to sizzle.


A million times I've resisted,but the fuck you stare,
it feels like witnessing a solar flare.
My heart it skewers and strips me to the core,
but who am I kidding, it was the death I had always wished for."

They Sold Us Broken Dreams

" You could see time flying away and the element of surprise, the moment you’ve been waiting for can’t be seen in the near vicinity, a time very much, almost tailored to fit in your dreaded life , supposed to be the miracle drug to your misery, the amount of rants and blames  one has accumulated over the years . You shouldn’t have believed them , but they wore such convincing facades, the promises sewn in so brilliantly into your neurons that you were coerced to believe that you are or at least in the calculated future become the coveted royal jewel . But it’s a scam, all of it , love, hope , perfection and everything that makes up the idea of a utopian world that has been sold to you, you thrive on it, spend your whole fucking lives running after it and die regretting that you didn’t put in enough efforts to reach there, the crescendo of satiation. I need you all to wake up , shatter the fucking glass pane and break out of it."

Of Life and Lies

"Your lives are not precious, I know what you have been taught from the time you were a crawling little sack of meat and now when you've grown into  bigger one with time you've started firmly believing in it. We talk about humanity, share myriads of videos and a plethora of quotes on the internet, ah the fucking internet,such a picture of utopia this fucking labyrinth of lies, fucking lies I tell you. If only our lives were a 'quarter of a quarter of a quarter' perfect as we try to project them, the world would have been a place worth living. We love to get stuck in our self-woven cobweb of lies, lies that we tell others, lies that we tell ourselves and lies that have encapsulated the whole of humanity that our lives,Yes! your life, my life , our lives are nothing but a bunch of glorified lies, our souls corroding deep inside while we gather social acceptance from people who are as self abominating as us"

"Just a little remains of what it was, and nothing could be seen of what it'll be,
a little here, a little there, lies in fragments, of lies that were and they'll be"

The Dialect Dillemma

Language is such an important part of human culture, how intriguing is to think that we were successful in morphing our vocal cords to produce complex sounds riding on the high tide of evolution and then created words. Words,the whole enormity of one whole planetary civilization wrapped into words, so many of them, uncountable as stars on a midsummer night, each twinkling , each with a story to tell.
Dialects must have entered the arena of language much later, might have been when someone would have realized the value of his words and tried to record them. What leaves me befuddled is conversion of words from one script to another on pure phonetics, not translation which is a whole different aspect of semantics all together, which also kills the aesthetic essence of a language. The point being why do people argue on the validity of something which holds no importance at all. Fuck spellings, fuck it, do not waste your time arguing over how a word should be spelled in an another language, it's as futile as asking your executioner for a weapon just embrace the beauty of words, feel them, let them into you, live them.

The Dog Who Didn't Give A Fuck.

"I don't know if I should call it a pleasant evening but the weather was undoubtedly fine, I was strolling down the edge of the road humming one of  those irritating songs that get stuck in your head and you hate yourself for it. So,while I was having this very irrelevant conflict with myself I did happen to pass by a garlanded metallic torso with a small metal bucket on its side, half filled with which was presumably the cheapest of vegetable oils one could find in the market, what caught my attention was not the statue but the amount of currency coins people were dropping in the bucket in addition to bowing their heads to black deity which was the sole of center of attraction on the street. Along came a boy, barely verging on adolescence with his rotund of a dog, golden haired dog, the one with the saddest of eyes that would make you want to pet him and get your face licked. So while the boy got busy with his smartphone, the pooch lifted one of its legs to start a stream that washed it all of it away, the culture we like to talk about so much, the things we perceive and worship as the truth, truth that is not naked as it is supposed to be and that was the sole reason that the poor little beast has those scars today, scars he got for following his natural instinct because some blithering idiot on the road can define 'wrong' for it,offended by a dog who literally gave no fucks to the god below his crotch."

Fidelity and Betrayal

"How can you claim something that was never yours to claim, every second spent was a mortgage that you paid to fill that ever widening pit of emptiness, a cauldron that occupies the human heart, what one would care about is to fill theirs up to the brim, quench that eternal thirst for love but in that blind quest for love you forget that a person cannot be owned, and these fucking notions we have about love which involves words such as 'forever' and 'eternity' are just free flowing shit that we love to consume and feel satiated, we have ourselves corrupted the idea of a romantic relationship and we alone are to face the dire consequences of our self woven delusions. Love cannot promise you a secure future, rarest of stones or any of the ulterior motives we try to sap out of relationships today but then no one can. Love doesn't exist, it's long dead, it is the patron saint of relationships but it doesn't walk the face of the earth and we keep expecting to find it, like God, we blindly believe in it , just in the bleak hope of filling up our cauldrons, just enough to be felt loved."

Moment

"An implosion, it's about to happen and all you can do is to lie , feeling the blood gush through your veins making a soft rhythmic movement that it didn't make any sense, aware that it is impending and when the inevitable happens, all that you've garnered and gathered for years will reduce to dust and there's nothing you can do about it. It is happening right now, the clock is ticking away as it mocks you , there is no time, it never existed but you do and shall cease to exist within no time."

Of Morality and Disposable Emotions

In an interesting turn of events I became acquainted with certain characteristics of colossal intrigue regarding the human behavior , in a condition of total aloofness we feel like there is something that is stuck up in our arse which renders to act rather impulsively. There is no moral obligation or lapse as far as we are able to satiate our consciousness with a cogent justification , we can even justify murders and massacres because as humans we don’t want to be on a guilt trip that could fuck with our self-woven cobweb of fake happiness but at the end of everything what baffles me is how much one degrades themselves to achieve that level of pseudo-zen.

On one hand our philosophies boast of certain moralities that even Oxygen would seem less important but most of us don’t literally give a fuck about morals and stamp upon it without deliberation to possess  and follow our desires , then why this façade of ethics and decency when we all worship debauchery , why this improvisation, a constant obligation of projecting oneself as decent, lying to oneself , to each other on every damned day of your life. Isn’t your whole life composed of a bunch of lies, imagine if people started to show what they actually are and what apparently are they made of , the world will then see the chaos it deserves. Why don’t we just gift ourselves with a holocaust that our pathetic species is craving for , we have designed and engineered devices that make us unhappy , emotions that are disposable, and no love, how much hope do you think we have with such a perilous amalgamation, hope this world ends soon enough.  

Of Wauling and Futility

The sorrow is sublime and under it the spirit is weary,
acute abomination is deemed incurable and is evidently dreary.
It bellows into the night and to the farthest point thus the cries travel,
but then eventually dies with its skin scraped on sand and gravel.

It now roams freely on the harrowed lands, where did death take a stroll
and sniggers it in the darkest corners as slowly raises the toll.
Fear has its name painted on walls and despondency patrols,
Havoc is rampant and chaos in the minds now rolls.

Halt, think and then once again, the purpose of such pain,
what’s done is done ,sulk and whimper if bliss it gains.
Inevitable and indelible they are, then why such madness,
why not feed it to the mongrels , what use is such sadness.

Lays amongst maggots and in moist soil, it only awaits putrefaction,
of what you shed and waul for, is just dust in progression.
Have your fill of the euphoric air, and glorify the endowed span,
feel , embrace, scream or just profligate, all of it while you still can.

The Son of Gory

And he went flying through the thorns of addictive agony,
and it tore and skewered him but oh the delectation of pain refuses to vanish,
Desert him you callous one, the spirit of bliss awaits,
drunk on the dubious ecstasy of the barren lands, how and what he draws.
When did he turn into this corpse of living immorality,
degenerate do people call him and it might still be a euphemism.

Choking on the tears that burn his pipes of wind,
he bellows in the highest of registers, beseeching eternal sleep
but pleadings of the subdued have and will remain unheard
and what remains are the cries that last and resonate for ever.
the son of gory shall remain unscathed , etched in stone that is,
for what they call abode of the damned , that is exactly where he dwells.

Umbrella

I could feel the water dripping off my nearly soaked shirt onto my hands, fumbling, trying to find balance between the heat from the glass of tea and the embracing cold that the wind carried as I sat beside a half-sheltered tea-stall rattling, as heavy drops from the skies ricocheted onto its plastic shed, it was a confounding Friday, confounding because it was preceded by an unusually sunny Thursday and there I was sitting amidst a jungle of concrete, a panoramic stretch wearing a shiny facade which bears the stench of money and the silent cries of ever-dying dreams and hopes, with that came a gust of wind, snatching away my temporary shelter and sitting on a block of unleveled concrete I wondered about the futility of running about when one is already drenched.
I stood up gradually to start walking towards the auto stand, I could feel the rain on my face, sharp little icy drops of water aided by breeze, trying to puncture your skin and seek refuge inside, one of those moments when the clock starts to tick at a slower pace and you start feeling everything, from the pain in your broken wrist to the heaviness in your breathing, a hundred meter walk seems like an eternity to cover. I got to the auto stand only to find it deserted, but the day didn’t boast of much serendipity hence there was a lack of disappointment.
The minute hand had completed ten full circles and every inch of my skin was now saturated, the rains had now crossed threshold of ‘pleasant’ and I had started to feel the dankness seeping inside me when oddly all of it came to a halt and my body’s acquaintance with the heavenly waters was obstructed by something which I felt was hovering over my head, that momentary feeling of eeriness when your heart would actually skip a beat or two calculating the possibilities of the unseen followed by the moment of ‘usually relieving’ truth but in this case it was extensively overwhelming.
There was a mild and apparent reluctance in her eyes, those captivating eyes: stealing glances or at least that is what I wanted to believe, I took a deep breath, absorbing her mild , sweet fragrance which helped in assuaging the erratic pounding inside. The waters making sweet music on her ivory white umbrella and drops dripping off it its edges as perfectly arranged andantes of a symphony. There was silence on my lips and chaos in my mind, words disagreed to leave my mouth, quailed at the thought of being agents of blasphemy, afraid of upsetting this rain-scented goddess. It should have just been gratitude but other emotions did violently whirl and I couldn’t decide their character on a scale of appropriateness but the heart does always find cogency to justify what it desires. Amidst all this turbulence I didn’t notice the vehicle that had recently halted in our vicinity and a wide smile grew on her face, like how the sun ennobles the sleeping sunflower; radiant, resplendent, enchanting. I stood there riveted as she closed her ivory white umbrella and embarked the vehicle of my envy, the doors slammed shut and the waters re-trysting with my skin, the engine gave a dweeby growl and the wheels started to turn, the window rolled down and out came an ivory white umbrella which I clutched like a famished hobo and watched as the vehicle of my envy whisked her off, leaving me behind with the ivory white umbrella and an indelible memory; radiant, resplendent, enchanting.