In a fuzzy crowd!

So long since I have been able to keep my head strong
In the fuzzy crowd, I see a stranger, Asking for alms.
I buy him a ticket and hand him some money,
I hope he makes it home.
Inexplicably, comes a gust of feelings so hard,
Rejoicing I cannot contain myself,
Lucky I consider those who have the shelter,
With a protection to keep them forever.

Naught is what I have, looking for principles, I came to a climax
The world called them elders,
Some called them family,
Some called them fathers.

A patriarchal society one would call.
I feel an anchor,
That needs a reckon.
A guide, a rudder, a pilot.

Influences or inspirations,
I derive, in the way to give it back to them.
No hurt, no pain, no shame.
Happiness in their name.
An environment for them to breathe,
A park for them to stroll,
A garden to feel,
A memory to cherish,
A montage of life that they passed on.

I have seen shame in love,
No shame in violence though.
I have seen anger in hurt,
No hurt in pain though.
I have seen some of what they showed me.
I have seen the best person given by God,
I call her Mommy!

My mommy, your mommy, his mommy, her mommy.
Daddy here, daddy there, daddy somewhere.
Some spread love while some give hate.Hate produces hurt, hurt makes hate.
The world is wounded and band aids don’t help!
I long to give them love, so that they don’t make a child, a mother, a woman abused.
A son, a father, a husband bruised.

Its an elders world and what we give is what we reciprocate.
An image to carry, an idea to utilize, a world to bereave is that all that we are?
A child is the father of the man.
Soon, the father loses itself,
The child finds himself.

Time is ticking and all that we are left with will be ruins.
The oil, the gold, the money,
None of that matter, no honey
None of that matters, to save our souls.
None of that matters to save our souls!!

Amidst the horizon of the dead..

And then there was this night, when the clock struck twelve for the first time.
There beat the hollow of the day, what the sunshine could not fade.

Skies violet and the twilight, red.
No there is no place for faith.

The bats are off to dens, there will be another moment again.
Incubus of the dark,
appear also when the mind is lurking in the past.

Can I hear a Hallelujah ?
Can I hear an Amen?

Can I know how many have been tormented by evil?
Can I see the marks you have put on your spirit?

As the filth rises, they come in with their foul stench.
From the alleys of the conduit,
That were shut and sealed.

Do you feel what I am saying?
Do you know who haunt,
Its not the dead but the ones who rise with dawn,
and we call it human.

If there is care, its for the flesh,
If there is love,
There is absence of love.
And that is why the bells toll…far amidst the horizon of the dead…

We Bid Our Farewells Already

A stranger on the phone asking me baby how are you?
I am stunned, there is no reply to my fume…
denial and abrasion of the truth,
lacerations in the heart, and deep gnashes to the wound…
explicit memories like thundering skies,
a million jolted thoughts with a loss of precision, mostly of time.
sometimes a kindred, sometimes a savior, sometimes, a shadow,
Persistent in chaos.

Those are the damages done by a dead man.
A breathing, talking, dead man,
Shallow and narcissistic that narcissism was put to shame.

If there were hugs to share, there would be none.
There is no emotion for the vile already done.
To the darkness already spread, one white spot is trying to dispel.
This soul longed for love. It turned vulnerable to know, to ask , to ponder,
What it feels to have an old man at home,
But to my awe,
There was psychopath lurking in the mind of a despondent. 

The pillows know more secrets than a shrink
They know more stories than a storyteller could ever tell.
Hapless mind is a creation of a boorish life,
No, there is no marvel that the devils exist in disguise.

I saw that when hope died, there is a death inside,
Deep inside, may be it was a fracture, or maybe it was a heartbreak.
A lifeless life.
How pathetic it is now to state,
A life giver was the cruelest form of creation, an example.
It seems useless, the tears shed,
the deaths died and one day a sudden emancipation liberates.

Yes it liberates.

madonna

Story goes on…

If you have sat through an entire day wondering what your purpose is in life, you would also know how difficult it really is to find the answer. I came to realize that my search, rather quest was not a quarter or any measurable crisis, my quest is my identity. I have been reading, asking, question, seeking, and also receiving all types of opinions on how and why this life is the way it is. I mostly, pondered on why my life was especially the way it was. The people I met, the souls I like to call everybody. The messages, that religion conveys, God men, movies, soap operas, etc have played an influential role. The voices that have come to me are a way for me to know and accept. Not all that comes to me is good, but how I turn it in the end is what is mine.

So, I am also guessing that if I feel this, there must be plenty of other people who feel or have felt this way already.
Then what does one do? Does one keep on going forward or whatever one wants, is what one does, so that one can be.

Let me talk about relationships for a while, I believe I am a good friend. I also feel I am a better friend than a lover. My thoughts on a love relationship is narrow and plain, but I am an idealist too, so there might be chances of bipolarity. I am a crazy girlfriend, in plain and simple words. Someday, I do hope to be married and have children but I love my solitary life, my loner life, and keeping my thoughts to myself. I am not very good at communicating. If I have to explain something, I get tired and start taking the other person to be stupid for having me explain, as a result of which there is a conflict. I cannot share happiness or sorrow easily, neither can I apologize or make up the way somebody would do. May be my personality depends on my mood, heavily. I love my space. My timing, doing things at my will or not. I must sound really selfish.

However, reiterating, the purpose of life, still remains, so 23 and counting, and I do not know how much more do I have to mention my age, but I hope you can feel the tension. This feels so much easier, you know, writing and writing has been my only solace ever since I was a child. This could be my purpose actually.

I once consulted a shrink once. I asked her why I felt that very less people understood me? She replied,” They do not have to understand you, only you have to understand yourself.” I was taken aback at that wise advice, and I was amazed. I came home, took a shower and relaxed myself. All the while, her words echoed in my mind. I kept on repeating, ” Only I have to understand myself.” By the time I had dinner, I was tired and the night was calm and windy, so I went to the balcony, lit a cigarette and looked at the sky as I puffed away the smoke smoothly from between my teeth.

I reckoned, “If only I understood myself, then there would be nobody in my life, I would go away and grow distant from people, because I would obviously start taking them for fools and me as a better one than them.”
I, for one, am such a person who cannot stay away from people. It depresses me. I need to keep in touch with souls. Not via social network or a phone or text but physically, I like talking to people, meeting and greeting but I have my days when I do not want to, those are the days I want to think and connect with the Divine. To tell you the truth, I haven’t met people in about two weeks now.

You know, when rejection slams you on your face, you feel bitter, the taste of rejection is bitter than bile. But it leaves an experience. That taste makes you crave for something sweet. That same taste makes you hungry to succeed. The experience you experience when you prepare that makes you unbeatable, that is when you take your victory lap. The journey is unimaginable, nobody knows. no body has an idea. I myself don’t have an idea about my own life. May be this is why everything becomes interesting and the thrill is what we live for, despite all odds, I would still want to know how my story ends if not anything else.

Ode to Hopelessness

I feel a bit torn down right now,  a little hopeless you may say.
I am confused between why we want good things in life and if we do, then do we out of greed or is it genuine reason of humans wanting happiness and pleasure in their lives. Also, I do not know if humans are actually born to suffer and happiness is a gust of wind on a dry sunny day? But who are the ones who actually deserve that blessed wind?

I am 23, jobless, and now I have started to question if I am worthless. Sometimes I feel I need to suffer more for I know I will rise and then it will be a story to inspire somebody. I do not know if there is God despite having a stern belief that there might be. I feel that some get everything they want without knowing what they actually want. I am confused, aren’t I?

It hurts to say the truth because there is always a fear of someone judging us, someone looking at us with a certain glare in the eyes that is somewhere judging the naked soul and suddenly one is exposed.

It hurts tremendously to know and not know how to figure out the rest of the life, if there is a life. I might be too young to decide what is the best for me already but there are a certain people who are happy, I just wish I was one of them. It is as simple and naive as it sounds to say what happiness is but it sure is what the rest of the unhappy people want and I am sure there are a lot of them.

Sometimes, a prayer does not work, sometimes belief does not, not even hope. In a nutshell, nothing works, not even God.