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.

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 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."

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.

Of Queues

You know what’s annoying? Standing in a queue, it brings so much sadness to your thoughts. A queue is something that usually makes you aware of what your worth might be; the more your worth to the world, lesser the queues you would have to stand in, but when you’re apparently in a queue it would treat you the same as every other individual who is a part of it, queues do not discriminate as people do. In a hate inflicted world which cannot catch a breath, a queue would be an involuntary pause which lets you think about so many disparate aspects of life which have been deliberately neglected and the possibilities they hold. I’m a strong believer of fatalism, what I want to imply that death is inevitable and very much real and our present social construct does not actually prepare us well to deal with or rather knowing the life we have been bestowed with, it keeps us busy and before we realize that we actually have a life to live, most of it is blown away in a puff of smoke.
Supposedly, I am in a queue, the purpose is to obtain a worthless piece of paper which I know is marginally going to make life easier, would gain me nothing on a personal level but, here I am sweating in the scorching sun, famished, succumbing to the traditions and hollow manners of the world, wasting time which could have been invested in something productive and of actual value (at least to me).

I am guessing that queues mustn’t have been invented, they would have just come into existence, I mean who would want to invent something like a queue when impatience is one of our basic and primordial personality traits. I cannot imagine a man voluntarily giving his place to another and waiting in his stead. We are not creatures of order, it has to be imposed on us, thus queues are nothing but impositions, yes they do bulldoze order in situation of barbaric unevenness yet, no matter how many facades it is put under but without it we would wipe our existence out from the face of the earth. The sole purpose was of this post is to bring out that queues aren’t really that uninteresting, there’s lot more to it than its existence as a formation, it displays vivid colors of human emotions in a single collective ; displeasure, hope, anger, succor and maybe a little bit of romance. So, next time you’re in a queue just try and embrace its intriguing projections lest whining.

Arbitariness and Gibberish

Okay, now its almost been over a month that my pen hasn’t kissed his paper(no, it’s not some kinky metaphor and  for some reason I believe that my pen is a male, it’s not deliberate),pondering over this very critical issue I stumbled upon the fact that my life has entered into a phase of dormancy where I am slowly giving up my urge to rise above all and slowly succumbing to the malignant conventions of the world. On the next thought, “Is it that bad?” , I have been asocial for a while now(not technically) but I have cut most of my physical interactions ( we all have ,all hail social networking  for its services against the mankind )as I wanted to figure out many aspects of lives with epiphanies coming from endless soliloquies, but sadly there were lesser moments of truth than remorse and maybe after spending so much time cramped up in this confined  space I realized that I have been wasting the most precious thing I have in my possession , time but on other thought what could I have done with the aforementioned period of time to save me from the remorse I’m currently facing and also reliving the said period is also impossible, thus the futility of my remorse struck me.

Regret is one of our strongest emotions, and it is regret that teaches us many a valuable lessons in life and maybe makes us more human in the process but as I said the futility of remorse overshadows the handful of good it drops into our barn. There isn’t really any need of iterating the clichéd phrases to back and bring out what I’m really trying to bring out or am I really trying to bring something out, there is no purpose behind this post ,just plain gibberish, a little yammering ,rambling and some other fancy verbs related to talking.
What is it coming to, what are we working towards and does the working really hold some point? I shall write something, a handful of you shall read it, eventually it would get better and maybe someday I would be able to make a noticeable contribution to literature and then I shall become one with the dust, did I actually gain anything, maybe a brevity of recognition and a taste of sub-luxuries of what the present world has to offer. Who would be able to recognize my decomposed corpse from the criminals, rapists, the people labeled as poor, uneducated and others after a dozen months of lying under the ground.  Even my priest wouldn’t guarantee my salvation and even if he does, would I be able to come back as a ghost and kick his ass by haunting him, in case I do not receive eternal life? What is the point of living and craving to survive  in such a world of pointless existence where we earn bread by doing what we usually hate, hate what is hated in mass opinion, and have opinions that reek of desperate and worrisome  cultural aspirations. Would caring about it create a difference? Would creating  that difference be worth an effort? At the end of times , everything, our existence on this dwarf blue planet in the inessential corner of this colossal, colossal  universe might be nothing but plain gibberish.