Sometimes, I simply think of colours, you know.
The world is so complex, the human brain and the ocean unexplored, wars and marriages are battling with its side effects and a lot of good goes ignored, so sometimes, instead of Newton, I think of colours.
Like black. What if black is just the ink squeezed from a blind man's dreams?
And yellow, the Sun's abominable hot ****
What if Snow White was just a Snow"man", a 5 year old created
but forgot to add the nose to?
Was it Olaf disguised as Charming who broke the sleeping curse with "true love's kiss"?
You can hit the bandwagon and say "Haha! Then, white is an angel's ****
And I could believe you!
I'm a believer!
I'm also a wild guesser! I'm the harlot of semantics, or whatever that is.
I have never met a naive gold digger, except of course, a gullible beggar.
I hate vulnerability, but then I hate strength too,
because I revel in crying and feeling my face wet and pretty
secretly waiting for a stranger's **** to give me sympathy.
Let me tell you something today.
You can give me food, clothing, warmth and a shelter to sleep under, but if you can't give me peace, comfort and acceptance, my world inside my mind and soul is a thunder waiting to erupt once I lose you and never bother to come back.
I would care less for love in fact.
I guess I'll go searching for a Kentucky's to ravish on a chicken leg with my legs up and heave a sigh of having found solace in no bra!
I see a rosary dangling down a fat woman's pious chest and I think of Jesus Christ.
70% of the world's population celebrate the man who died on the cross and topped it off with resurrection
And then again, I think of valiant soldiers who die on the borders trying to protect their nation
Who are grieved and honoured for a day, no, not celebrated no! They are forgotten.
This ******* contrived sense of sacrifice and nationalism is causing to humanity, its suffering and damnation.
Eve offered and Adam ate! Stupid snake! Because, when I didn't know any better I was too scared to **********
All these esoteric questions and theories and debates and elocutions and apologetics and guesses, what's the ******* point?
The sanctimonious have the God of gaps, the Spaghetti monster for the iconoclastics and then we have the ********** with a purpose to save the planet from overuse of plastics!
"There's a lot wrong with this world today and we MUST change IT!", asserts a 14 year old onstage in an air conditioned school,
where hundreds have gathered in an international thinktank for "imitating truce".
What is maturity? Tenacity? Or Acuity?
Do you understand subjectivity?
So, just because I'm 20 now, it's hilarious to still watch me drinking milk instead of "adult tea"?
I would rather listen to stories of people who've travelled the planet and lived to tell about it all, than load Stories on Instagram of people who barely make it across the hall.
And I wish I could say "Social media can **** my *****
Because in this planet of intelligent creatures, one gender accuses, the other waits and muses, so the former forms a movement, hoping for some improvement, but really all this is a sham. All of this? It's just entertainment.
It's not about free will, it's about freedom.
It's not about fear and dogma, it's about reason.
It's about effortless loving with no condition. NO condition.
My mother says all the time "Live and let live", and I believe this is the only greatest gift we can give, to people around us and unto us, also to forget and forgive.
Why seek for mankind's origin and destiny? Why not find the purpose we need to serve right now?
What can you do now?
And this will never have a proper ending, because I like it that way.
The world will never change, I snigger knowing because there was just one thing the Priest said right, "And we all like sheep have gone astray."
Oct 30, 2018
Oct 30, 2018 at 3:59 PM UTC
She sat straight and suave by the bar counter. Her brown, wavy hair
curved along her delicate waist. Her long and manicured fingers gently
held her glass of whiskey and she took sips from it, gazing off into space.
She likened the least bit of a celebrated model with high fashion looks or
one of a potential bud waiting to be found, but she was beauty
unfathomable. So intricately built was her face, that the matted lipstick
on her full lips felt honored within its contours and peaks and the
eyeliner sought delight in adding a magical depth to her dark brown
eyes.
But she sat there alone.
She was the only glowing light in the dimly lit bar, in the form of an
alluring pulchritude, but neither did she have any man flocking within
inches of her nor any woman as company.
“Sameer! 10 o’clock! In white. God, she’s a stunner!”, Ishaan remarked.
“Not now, Ish. I need to send this e-mail to Jeff right now. Gotta impress
that American and lock my possibility of a promotion.” said Sameer
typing his e-mail with one hand and sipping his beer from another.
“Then, we are off from here. Too tired to flirt tonight.”, Sameer
responded in an unvarying tone.
“I don’t know, man. There’s something about her. Who knows, she’d
probably be far better than that chick you wooed last week.”, Ishaan
laughed as he said.
“The one who cuddled her teddy bear at the end of the night? I felt done,
dude.”, Sameer sighed and continued tapping on his keypad.
A few minutes later, Sameer veered his head off his smartphone and
looked at the direction his friend had been pointing at with a curious
expression only a man could produce.
She sat there smiling at a group singing the Happy Birthday song aloud
for their friend, clanging their beer bottles with each other’s and
bellowing cheers.
Whilst Sameer sat there staring. She was one of the most beautiful
woman he had ever seen. Although, he realised he had associated himself
with that statement before, but tonight, this woman raised the bar high.
Almost as if struck by an intuition, she turned towards Sameer and their
eyes locked for a few seconds before she let go with an innocent smile
that almost seemed to ****** him.
She continued to drink her glass of spirit and engaged herself in a small
talk with the bartender.
“Hey, um Ishaan?”
“Yeah?”
“Let’s go. Gulp your beer down, I’ll be waiting in the car.”, Sameer took
one last look at that bedazzling woman and walked out of the bar with a
heavy sigh.
“You’re funny. A guy like you lets go of a girl who looked so worth the
attention which you give to all the other stupid advances out there.
Lame.”, Ishaan shook his head and almost looked disappointed.
“Well, you should’ve given your shot, if you felt I was being an *** in
there.”, Sameer pulled the car off the parking lot.
“I don’t think I could have, actually. I could have, but I don’t think I
could have, you know.”
“What do you mean?”
“You can’t deny it but she was fiercely intimidating.”
Sameer looked at Ishaan and smiled.
Watching the man leave the bar, she drank the last sip from her glass,
placed it on the counter with a faint thud, sighed and eventually smiled,
tucking the flick of her hair behind her ear.
Oct 29, 2018
Oct 29, 2018 at 1:14 PM UTC
"That night when you kissed me,
I left a poem in your mouth,
and you can hear some of the lines
every time you breathe out."
-Yarn, Andrea Gibson
Aug 28, 2018
Aug 28, 2018 at 2:28 AM UTC
Not yet, he wasn't entirely bare
She was, but she didn't care
Hungry, he grasped her breast
and tasted its ***** crest
The same process followed
but his ***** never subdued
Yet, today he had tears in his eyes
and down there, a warm string of ***
While she ****** and swallowed
He drank a glass of ***
Aug 25, 2018
Aug 25, 2018 at 10:07 AM UTC
I want you to
be the salt that tastes
my flavorless skin
Seeping into my pores
refining every sinful piece
And be my light
and walk with me
so my bare skin may shine
with your glorious beam
and stitch a garment
with lovestruck seam.
Aug 22, 2018
Aug 22, 2018 at 6:22 AM UTC
Teach your child
to plant a tree
than pluck one
that was never
her own entity
but its own
Teach your child
to make a painting
of a flower
as a gift
than give a bouquet
that will die soon
or instead
teach her to
give a sapling
that will grow
into a memory
which will hold
much power
Teach your child
to question
than cower
to vain rules
and illogic
that steal her
playful affection
and her artless frolic
Teach your child
to climb trees
before the
ladders to
supreme echelon
Teach her
that when she collapses
she must stand up
with grace and poise
like the shining sun
for after
the night
is done
laying its darkness
it rises again
the sun
Teach your child
the colors of mankind
Yellow or Orange
Red or Brown
Black or White
to accept each one
everyone
without the division
of vanity
of power
or a crown
Teach your child
to create
her own meaning
of Love
Teach her to
listen to the story
of every tear
that bears grief
and to
speak aloud
to bespeak
wisdom and virtue
in brief
Teach your child
about the freedom
in and of the mind
before she rebels
to venture outside
with people
who care less
about her kind
but more about
filling the space
on a car seat
Teach your child
to believe
in possibilities
and have faith
in the certainties
of unlocking mysteries
Teach her
to fuel
her curiosities
Teach your child
values that were not
taught to
the crowd
then you will
stand a mother
full and proud.
Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 11:17 AM UTC
Have you seen her yet?
haven’t you still met?
the little girl that you bet
would grow up to be
a woman
your favorite object?
So she could marry
a man whose beard
covers his double chin
and whose hair likens
grayish and doddering lint?
so she could be a
piñata doll to the cane?
a helpless dame
to scoundrels who became
guiltless sinners
only to taste her breast
and spit on her shame?
When will you see her?
this damsel you’ll set
soon in distress
but in the mind of whose
you’ll set a dream of
turning her into a mistress?
You must be quite sly
you’ll surely agree
in your little trap
she is much liable to sink
that she can be as strong
as a man or even Hercules
but would she know
that there would be
no one
when she would feel
human and cry
barely a soul around her
to hear her pleas?
That she is to trick
herself into faking
her real sentiment
into a heartfelt grin
because she will be
nothing
but a smiling condiment
amid the flavorless crowd
because how else can
she make you proud?
Will you tell her
that she was born
with her skin
not to cover her body
but to cover it again
by animal silk?
or better yet,
cotton, jute or laced pink?
That just a glimpse
of her ravishing thigh
can cause an ********
a sublime indication
of a man’s lusted high?
What about the time
when she would shudder
with desire
of feeling love
in its prime?
Or when she would
want to fly across the seas
and the mountains?
Would you simply
push her within
a four walled room
and shut the doors
while she rips the curtains?
Would you let her
learn to write
with a pencil
or make her sit
by the stove
by the window
in deadly still
while growing men
learn how to pay a bill
how to exercise a will
and gasp at life’s thrill?
She would still be a girl
if she came into this world
you made for yourself
a precious pearl
you’d only carve her into a stone
so she could be unfurled
to the wind and the perils
of man
Because you barely built
a world for her
along with him
together
little would she know
that we live in a
man’s deadly clan.
Aug 17, 2018
Aug 17, 2018 at 1:45 PM UTC
Who can tell?
Whether malice has its own purity?
If odor has its own fragrant smell?
Does right wrong right
Or wrong right wrong?
Could darkness have its own light?
What do you know?
Guilt might have its own innocence
For all you know
Humility and modesty
Could just be a show
This is how life is
You either laugh hard
Or you cry in pain
You love too much
Or you die in vain
If you don’t make someone smile
You end up being a bore
If you dress up too guile
You are tagged a *****
You may be very pretty
but deceitful in act
You may be called ugly
but are beautiful in fact
In sadness
you’re creative
In happiness
well that is tentative
and yet sans it too
you may appear narrative
If you know too much
you realize how less you knew
If you are too ignorant
you realize that all lies are just few
Humor shames trivialities
Irony is the truth about absurdities
We scorn at all harsh realities
So we smile at its mockeries
Could love really be true?
And hatred absolutely false?
Is sadness a gloom
Covered in joy so sparse
like a dull audience
forced in its applause?
Without a doubt
A truth has a lie hidden
Simply because
The mirror isn’t clear
It hides many flaws
and your aesthetic sin
deep within
If you counted the seconds
and minutes and the hours
Will you still be wasting time?
Or would you still
have to make an orange juice
out of a dainty lime?
What’s rhetoric
if a question has an answer
if silence it’s own message
and guns and bullets
its own power?
What’s the point
If you’re devising a plan
for your future
to become a big man
And you still say
that you don’t know
what might happen tomorrow
That it all looks bleak and dark
And you sit there
not working hard
you crib and worry
and fake a smile
to everyone
you appear
as blithe as a lark
We dwell with glee
In a world where
two extremes meet
Order deals with its chaos
And chaos struggles for order
Everyone fights
for the latter
And to straighten
an imbalanced balance
and dispel a dulcet clatter.
Aug 15, 2018
Aug 15, 2018 at 6:26 AM UTC
Like a mad tune you ring
Reverberating
Inside the turmoil of my head
Calming the fret
Strange notes you play
Like the petals of a rose
Falling on a flamenco guitar
On a lifeless day
Where words I mumble are in prose
In my world where silence is ******
And joy is unknown
I listen to
The queer notes that you plucked
Dark curtains are torn
Easing the tension
In my spirit
This music you create
Is all but silence
And sans it
The petals of the rose
I reckon
might sadly wilt.
Aug 14, 2018
Aug 14, 2018 at 4:33 AM UTC
This is about you.
A composition
of your perfect
imperfection
It’s about
your ample nose
placed
on your
sculpted face
scaling a symmetry
only I understand
but its intricacy
only God knows
You, with your dark eyes
in its shining
and its gloom
narrate stories
only I hear
and listen to.
How I seek pleasure
to solve
your dissonance
because you accepted
my woe
making it your own
When you play
songs on your lute
it’s like stars shoot
and harmony soars
over the bay
When you hit
a minor chord
and smile
you erase a plight
and make beauty
by something so odd
You don’t force
a smart pun
a thoughtful gift
a witty remark
you just say and do it
I suppose
in effortless effort
You don’t just talk
you exchange
mental delight
in bold intellect
and subtle pride
in considerate stealth
you love poetry
the way you admire
irony
connection
and symphony
How your eyes seek mine
in a multitude
and shamelessly
acknowledge its find
baffles my mind
you’re deaf
to the blaring thoughts
of staring strangers
at us
or rather
you with me
you’re an enigma
in a way
that makes your sobriety
my toxic
your drunken state
my vulnerability
You don’t have to be
a man
or an angel
if either existed
I would seek
for you to be
the former
you don’t need
to have
the charm
of a woman
or a magician
to allure me
it’s perfect
when we look
at each other’s face
there’s nothing that
seems or feels
out of place
i can smile at you
in ease
and affection
never running out of it
for days
Because you’re only
the figment
of my vast imaginings
and you are beautiful
You’re someone out there
I will always hope to tell
about
the pink of pigs
to the purple of laughter
to the red of sad blood
and come running to
when I’m covered in mud
You’re either romance
in furtive stance
of a fake acquaintance
Or a doting friendship
with a silent lip
of promising actions
Or maybe
you’re just my dream
wrapped in an uncertainty
of becoming my reality
I would cherish
As I grow
I will wonder
and ask the universe
or the other
where in the world
are you right now?
what would it take
for me to get you
or get to you
somehow?
Aug 13, 2018
Aug 13, 2018 at 2:45 AM UTC