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Biplav Shrestha Oct 2014
Summer breeze
Like diamonds falling upon faultless skin
The sunlight draws a halo
A crown of gold upon cascading waves of black
The shadows
They cast light onto you
Darkness onto me
Making doves out of dragonflies
Consuming without compromise

Winter has since come and gone
Taking everything with the winds
The due drops rest upon my pores
Like rhinestones on the shore
I stand beside the sodden ash
Dark and cold with scattered grey
You come along like a thunderstorm
To push me down and then go away

I rest a verse upon my wrist
Every letter of every word belongs to you
The words, they rhyme
With every grime
Of my tattered and broken chords
I hope you see me with those eyes
As I fall onto the starry skies
With every breath I float away
My vacant vessel in visceral display

Autumn. . . .
Biplav Shrestha Aug 2014
Seems like a lot has been happening in the world lately. Maybe even a little too much for me to take it all in in one go. One of my favorite actors from when I was a kid, died sometime last week. Back when we only had 4 channels to choose from, seeing him on the tube was kind of a big deal to us. Two days later I woke up to the news of yet another actor that I really liked passing away. Unlike the first man, towards whom my adoration had, with time, slowly dwindled into something nonexistent, Robin Williams was someone whom I greatly admired and idolized. His sense of humor, attitude and mannerisms made him seem like he was from a different galaxy if not a different universe. It came as quite a surprise to me, reading that he had committed suicide. Here was a man, who was, in my opinion, among the funniest and smartest people in the modern world, someone who was loved and adored by basically everyone who had ever seen him. And to think that behind that warm - smiling exterior dwelled a tormented being that was burdened by some unknown - dark entity, a force that in the end, got the best of him seemed all too contradictory! I suppose being funny is not the same as being happy after all.

Is this what has come of us? Smart people having to succumb to the need to hide behind masks, long enough for them to morph into their permanent faces! Where does that leave the likes of us? If people we look up to for inspiration or people to whom we relate most to, turn out to be nothing but an act, doesn't it mean that we don’t really know anyone at all? Maybe I knew him, or should I say that I knew parts of him. I certainly felt like I did. When I was a kid, my father would rent a VHS tape from the local store at Rs.50 a piece every month. Needless to say, I always looked forward to those days. "Hook" was one of the first English movies I remember watching; the other being "The man in the iron mask". I remember how happy it made me feel, sitting in a room with my dad and my cousins, not having to worry about a single thing. Throughout the years, whenever I come upon the movie, I always find myself reliving my childhood. Dead Poet Society, Awakenings, Jack, Goodwill Hunting, Jumanji and Bicentennial Man are still some of my favorite movies. Robin Williams' movies basically made my childhood. And I just can't get over the fact that he's no longer with us. I feel this hollowness within myself and I'm not ashamed to say that it breaks my heart.

“Happiness in intelligent people is the rarest thing I know.”

I find it ironic; the thought that comedians speak more sense than politicians in today’s society. Humor is an art form that I think asks of people to delve into the facts and the specifics of reality. And as I grow older, with every passing day, I realize just how horrible reality can be at times. The modern media has manipulated and reshaped our way of thinking. We live in a world where individuality is mostly frowned upon, where people find happiness in the mediocre and the mundane, where people spend countless hours of every day working out at gyms, approaching the aesthetic conditions of gods and goddesses while their minds starve and their senses withers. It is, in a way, almost a given that the smartest people are also among the saddest in the world. And who’s to blame them? Who wouldn't be sad when they realize just how much tragedy goes unnoticed by the masses! And when you reach to a point where you feel like you can’t take everything in anymore, absolutely no good can come of it. Things like depression and paranoia are basically symptoms of reality; a side effect of being just too consciously present in the moment.

“Those who don’t study history are doomed to repeat it. Yet those who do study history are doomed to stand by helplessly while everyone else repeats it.”

What would the world be like without the free thinkers, the musicians, the writers, the artists, the athletes, the comedians? People who show us the levels the human body and mind is capable of achieving? A world, void of idols and role models who dared to dream; people who fought against the concept of having to fit the common mold, who dared to push the boundaries of what’s acceptable and possible? In my opinion, these people play just as important of a role as scientists and engineers do to extend the scope of human existence. But there’s always a price to pay for originality, isn't there? The mechanism of creativity requires fuel, fodder and sometimes even human livestock for sustenance. And sometimes the process itself takes so much that it ends up bringing the whole thing crumbling down.

“We don't read and write poetry because it’s cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And science, law, business, engineering; these are necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, art, love; these are what we stay alive for.”

I have this policy, a rule that I set for myself where I try my hardest not to build a personal relationship with the people I idolize and admire. It’s taken me quite a few disappointing encounters to realize that my adoration towards an artist or a musician or a poet or a writer is only limited to their art and not towards them as individuals. Often times I've found myself ending feeling disappointed in the presence of my “heroes” owing to the fact that they've never really lived up to my expectations of them. Excluding a few cases, it’s pretty much been a giant cesspool of disappointments and frustrations. Losing my admiration for the people I still respect is a risk I’m not willing to take. This is something I have learned from experience; reinforced only by the events that took place last week.

“Forests may be gorgeous but there is nothing more alive than a tree that learns how to grow in a cemetery.”

I used to think that happiness was a choice; that people could find happiness if they really wanted to. That it was as simple as starting a car or turning on a tube light. But I’m not sure of that anymore. I’m not even sure that happiness means the same thing to everyone. Now I think that in order to be satisfied with yourself and your life, you need to maintain a certain level of consistency on a daily basis. Finding a mindset that makes you feel good and then sticking to it. Those of us with “supposed” stable minds do all we can to live a regular life; doing our very best to not have to subject ourselves to the vices of self sedation. Some aren't even aware of this and some need to remind themselves of their normality ever second of every waking hour. Whatever the case, people need to realize that actions have consequences that don’t just affect them but also the people around them. And though we have no choice on this matter, we always have an option on whether the vibes we emit are going to be positive or negative. It is about the only thing us as human beings have power over.
Biplav Shrestha Aug 2014
People spending 6 hours of every day working out at gyms, approaching the aesthetic conditions of gods and goddesses while their minds starve and their senses withers! After a point, the body becomes a mask; some sort of distraction, a box that hides away the fleeting nothingness within. Balance is a poor man’s luxury and a rich man’s trash. Finding a middle ground is a rarity. A gem among the ashes.

Beautiful minds decaying within the confines of a heart that has taken it captive; being driven solely by the lust of the flesh. Forever bound to walk in meaningless exile; blindly running towards the horizon of the mediocre and the mundane. Love is a festering orb of false promises and preset expectations.

Flawed the concept of beauty; adulterated it's design. But what was once pure cannot maintain it's purity forever. It is but the mind that must adjust it's trajectory if it is to save it from itself. Perfection is just another word for a slow masochistic approach towards touching the unobtainable.
Biplav Shrestha Aug 2014
No easy feat
To reignite the spark
Of former glory
In desperation,
In certain shades of grey
Callused fingertips
With visible scratch marks
On arcs above the base
Of my essence

Things I lack
I cannot fathom
Things I long for
I cannot recall
The spaces in between
My fingers
The thinnest of cages

Need I surrender?
To the shadows I harbor
Need I reach out to?
My darkest of virtues
In points
With purpose
Void of morality


Should I start afresh?
Search for new beginnings
In avenues of ember,
In company of people
Only I can remember?

Maybe fall a little
Into the unknown
Dig through my memories
In search for things to atone

No easy feat
To reignite the spark
Of former glory
In desperation,
In certain shades of grey
Callused fingertips
With visible scratch marks
On arcs above the base
Of my essence.
Inspired from one of the poems on the site.
Biplav Shrestha Aug 2014
Sweet surrender in golden arches of time
Lay me down upon your eternal void
Rid me of all my immoral virtues
Conceal my soul tonight

Eluding answers to my perpetual yearnings
Come to me bearing boulders of grey
Take these old weights off my shoulders
Point me towards the path astray

Howling winds of youthful years passed
Bestow me upon my innocence I've lost
Cleanse me upon the dust of old
Grant me bearings to the roads once crossed

Endless pleasures in shades of blue
Point me towards the setting sun
Purge me off all my deformed persuasions
Walk me to a path untrodden

Wailing whispers drenched in velvet euphoria  
Sky bound hands my faith I've misplaced
Heave my sorrow from this place of worship
Let not my surrender go to waste

— The End —