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.