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!!

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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…

A box.

There is a box.
It feels, what it says.
Thinks, and acts,
Perceives, what it adapts.

This box is here.
But there isn’t a time, or a duration.
It has sensors,
It hears what is said,
Imbibes what is seen,
Accumulates what it notices.

A gift was once passed down to what couldn’t be contained in one,
One box.
The box couldn’t be rigid,
Neither too flexible.
It was made to stand.
Stand on itself,
On the wind and rain,
Or the hail and sunshine.

The box, traveled far off places,
To distant lands,
It heard, saw, spoke, it acquired.

Then the box was changed but set forth for the same journey.
The box continued but never came back to the start.
The box never even hit a finish line.
It reverted in a new cover, all the time.
And each time, no one knew what it was,
How it was.
No one was there.
Every one was new too.

tiny thought!

Are you wearing uncomfortable shoes?

Yes? No?

If you are then why haven’t you changed them yet? Do you know they are stopping you from reaching where you can?

If you are not then why are you not going about life, making it the way you always wanted it to be? Who is stopping you?

The thought my friends, lies in your attitude. It is as simple as changing your shoes. Switch. Alternate. Be. Take the first step. Move.

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.