Accepting

I’m on the different phase of the world,

And I truly believe that I’ve made it home.

I sense the breath inside me against the world,

I’m truly abducted from outside in a place called home.

I paint a true picture while keeping my eyes closed,

Hearing the tales of failure with both my ears closed.

Jumping and wailing and letting the world truly know,

A story of mine carefully curated if I truly know.

Trusting that truth shall deliver not but broken promises,

Waiting as long before I deliver my life before it’s dead.

Today I ain’t getting the answer forged against some promises,

I won’t get it even long after this soul is dead.

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Walk of Life

A little about the walk of life will be told,

The scent of which is inherent in all,

Wherever will be the sound of the music,

You will paddle through waves like a moment ago.

 

Well touched and written about it are books,

Often what seen and felt is never forgotten,

And set inside the travelling heart of all,

Are values, gifts and laughs all round the horizon.

 

One peels off the bad lucrative chin of thoughts,

Lands in the dustbin of forgotten memories,

There where no side is taken, none borrowed,

Lies the sight of God in its full glimmer.

 

Look back don’t you, pass over the present,

Like a clean, shiny mirror speaking nothing but truth,

That one won’t die without a word in the mind,

Of chances there aren’t to forget their’s.

 

So drunken in silence I’m today, out loud my ears heard,

I can’t let go off my veil before the shine of tomorrow,

I rest calm on my bed journeying around the world,

So damn is the challenge, takes nothing but me after all.

 

To the walk of life, I stay stiff still sleeping in the noon,

Watching and crying over elasped moons,

To the age of wisdom, bold and powerful,

I arrest my attitude, laid back and laggard.

To where I scrupled before attending a thought,

So bleak in diffusion and slow to arrange,

Wild ideas, opinions and life of mine’s,

But here in stays slowly to create a sense of change!

Together

Taking a nap I’ll move,

If I’m little more inspired to.

Wincing on the words I prayed with,

I’ll pull my sleeve and bear the cage!

 

 

Strutting down the winter woods,

With friends and foes chattering together,

I’ll lead with colour white on my face,

And let them paint me with their words I say!

 

 

Below the grass I’ll lie,

And ask why I be the light in this darkest time?

Then meddle with the purest of the past,

And weave the cool calmness of today as the untruth!

 

 

I’ll not laugh it’s easy enough,

And put the words in other’s mouth.

I’ll end these worthless words in this way,

Within this little bower of today’s togetherness!

Imagination

When asked to draw a picture of a farmer ploughing his field in the dawn with fresh drops of sweat making it’s presence felt, and his sickle making the sand dance, my thoughts sickened to an end before I began thinking if imagination is more important than knowledge. What if I don’t know what a sickle looks like, for instance?

So drunk in darkness are we today, if a candle of bright thoughts sneak our brains, we stare away from the intensity of newness that has entered. Nobody wishes to hear the rhythm that life brings about. Nobody wishes to dance away all the bitterness that ponds amongst the banks of negligence. We don’t wish to step, even make a positive call. Lack of imagination takes over as a protagonist of a willfully meaningless story.

When the groups are assembled to practice an ambition, is it a legitimate preposition to approve of the inaccuracy of group to attain a certain goal by being the sole doer? Why fit in when you are born stand out! Imagine the doers in the world…. Do you have any knowledge about them?

Clearly one could sense there’s a serious foulness at play, but you walk in and out as you please. Imagine the level of courtesy the group members possess that they tolerate you as one of their own!

Why need to imagine the distinction of thoughts that I have brought together in this piece of writing if it’s already there in it’s truest form. One must not shy away form stitching these thoughts as all are entitled under one idea: imagination.

Imagine some more meaningless thoughts beyond this full stop.

An Evening Tryst With a Stranger

I had promised this disguised soul I won’t forget that discussion last evening. I’m here to get unapproved of me being a forgetful person, again!

I won’t much dive into the details into what made me talk to a stranger in a country where people are already in abundance but no one actually to share to, I will not be interpreting the event in any way possible. I would term that “person” as “she” for now.

So, last evening it was sun bidding adieu as it usually does, and it was certainly a time for recreation. For a deep sleeper like me, Internet is always an eye opener. So, Internet! There’s a website that offers login without identifying yourself and you could share with strangers around the world without getting known. Cool! So, my laptop was assigned to get this job done.

She was the first one to begin with a casual Hi! I replied with an ignorant Heya, while sliding my thumb along the social media on my phone on the other hand. To my utter surprise, she asked, ” Have you ever been in true love?” I decided to put an end to this convo. But something stopped me. It was to no obligation that I’ve to reply to that. But I did, in positive annotation.

I would easily make out that she was so keen to know with her number of question marks on several following questions. I answered them as adequately and carefully as possible. A evening feast of replies, better given than taken! At one or the other take she could easily make out that I was lying. Lying she declared was unnecessary. Her “maybes” and “maybe nots” were enough to make me realise she won’t open herself but make me spit my words out as easily as I was already spitting.

When asked about her age, she replied, “Anybody between 10 years and 80 years, you can put me wherever you want to be.” Pretty unconventional, for me at least! Her purpose to inquire me was uncertain and all I could I understand was she wanted to solve some problem of her and that she wanted to know what “boys of my age feel about the most divine thing in the whole world, love”.

Out of her dominance in the conversation she instructed me to love unconditionally and accusing me of pondering more than I should. A message has been delivered and took a note of it.

She had bet I won’t forget this conversation but I admit I got a dreamy sleep afterwards. It’s a waste of time. But lesson learnt. What I had I actually got to do, anyway?

A Beauty on the Side walk

Innocent but yet wild in answers. All the world is yet to praise this little soul hiding her spectacle onto her left. This as it seems isn’t a dream and isn’t yet to hold praise of holding one. All of the darkness have already faded which in the unexpected manaouvers have taken turns to inspire! 

Let’s begin! 

In the world of charms, outside my heart, I still don’t feel the breath seizing out the need of me. Every other day becomes a question with changing meanings. Who does pays heed to needless motivations, after all? In today’s mean world, who wants to remember the information that hurts? 

My adventure with the beauty begins at home. I aspire to inspire my wants to walk up. When the ultimate magic happens, I retreat to good technology that hurts my eyes and ultimately my brain cells. And the war goes on until I push the bed with my back with no more stuttering fingers. What I mean ‘beauty’ here is the usual life; a forgetful life. 

The burning light over the other end of shore plunders every hope of survival unless it doesn’t respond. So, practically it keeps a watch on us but it just keeps on staring. That light is what we need to have an answer to. This calls to find a meaning of another beauty. 

As I reiterate, ” Innocent it is, yet wild in answers”. I see her yawning towards my side in bewilderness, towing her legs a little more titled and face looking for an hideout from the outside world. And I sit calm reading the story with own lenses. Unsaid is the glimpse of the another time ahead, but I hear our words in perfect sync. I don’t answer and she forgets to question that’s what keeps the distance going. While I fail to admit what her guardians are upto? Or what if it’s just a blunder? Am I just playing foul? 

Let’s take the shot. I have no one else to share this word. I knew down and put a constant stare. She suddenly puts her wide eyes shut. It calm as only I hear her hair crawling down in the air for freedom. 

And then, I just stop. And do what I need to do. No bad intentions at all! 

At The End of the Day!

Before this beginning, if the pages weren’t blank, I wouldn’t have begun. Empty that that is, a world of wonders, it becomes rather relevant to compose whether it creates meaning or it doesn’t… It just better to keep it filling or it’ll just be a swamp over laziness..

Those few seconds left to lose until the dying day, 

Few memonts to spare ourselves and listen… 

If tonight these words will hit the right chord, 

All of the world will make it’s worth come true. 

This in the morning would anyone have wondered if I would knew this night has to end with failure in hand. And every so, does this day keeps on going like an aeroplane in the sky unknown where to go. Direction is what those in the meters digitally there show, but I don’t know where to go. Still I’m in the air flying on the heights of life. At the verge of shrinking dreams, one seems losing the urge to fly. There’s so land offering sweetness and bitterness is what that follows the flow. And at the end if the day, an empty soul finds an empty mate. 

Listen to this story, as if it isn’t something new but it’s different. Near your ears, listen to the music shuffling the tones one after the another. Shift your feet a little and feel the hollowness beneath the earth. Move your eyes around and witness the slumber. 
So, this be the end of to day and impossibly another one to follow!