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Ryan Joseph  Aug 2018
Millenial
Ryan Joseph Aug 2018
Millennial is what called in this generation,
Everywhere here and there,
There are always youths who really never care,
And never been worried about their future.

In Facebook, Instagram, Twitter and Messenger,
Are contents of follower, liker, reader and including seener,
Loitering and using fake accounts just to gain a wholesome money,
Even though that it is notorious, they still embark their blunt journey.

Most millennials are undisputedly addicted to social media,
Their lives depends on likes they are going to gain,
They don't care if their faces might be inside of multi-media,
And they don't even care if it will give them a pain.

Some truly go beyond their limits just to have a lot of likes,
Perhaps they are fame *****, but they don't care if someone strikes,
Strikes every part of their body including their faces and such,
Yet they don't care if it will hurt them too much.

However, seeking attention in the cyber world isn't a good thing,
Instead they should focus on things that are essentially free like a king,
Because in this generation, too many people are unaware and careless,
And some they didn't even noticed that our environment is already full of fraud either hypocrite and genuine people are less.
millennial nowadays
There has been enough writing of the self or of circumstances I have often found myself trapped in,I think that the time now has come,to write about people who often go unnoticed in your lives,it is like oxygen,like you are always breathing,the blood is always flowing,the blood is getting oxygenated and then de- oxygenated and it gets purified,and its in your body,and you know it,you are breathing and you know you are,but we don’t really pay close attention to the flow of breaths we inhale and exhale,and that’s what is keeping us biologically alive and we know it,but how much importance does the breathing get,how much thanks,how much attention?
As I’m writing,believe me when I say that ,I’m not pausing,I’m not making things up,I’m not even thinking rationally or sequentially,I’m simply typing onto words that describe my very beautiful,my very  epitome of sacrifice and suffering,my very solitary reaper of freshness ,love and care,my very own – Grandmother.

No,this is not her biography,this is not about describing her,this is not only about thanking her even,this is about telling you all that I am deeply moved about how she is ,I fail to realist what she is actually made up of,I mean,a woman in her 80s ,of course a woman of a different era altogether,she is supposed to be an orthodox woman in her late 80s, aware of her approaching years,and sitting in front of the television watching serials or mythological shows or the very beloved babajis on air and hardly getting out of her room and ordering her daughter –in-law to get work done and medicines presented.
This is quite ironic to how we often stereotype old ladies to be. But let me make it clear,my grandma is highly different. And just like I firmly say that I’m going to remain as the ‘ Different Misfit’ ,different from a lot many out here,in the most weirdest angles,but I got this from my granny,apart from the misfit,she is an old,weak woman,she is short,and her hair has still managed to not get older,I think her hair know well,what suits her appearance,she has good brown-orangish hair, and not to forget,her charismatic blue eyes,eyes to fall for. She keeps her hair tied in a neatly made bun and drapes herself well in decent looking saris. No lipsticks,no makeup,no perfume,no sandals. She chooses to be her natural self,in her chapals. Only accessory to her will be her purse. And with purse,I mean,not the blinging  purses,but the small pouch type of  purse,she keeps around her waistline,cutely tucked inside her sari petticoat.She is a magical figure,at least to me.
‘Granny,I’m here.Namaste.’, I said as I reached her place,while she was mopping the balcony floor.It had rained heavily.
She first didn quite seem to hear it,even though I was very loud and pitchy. I saw her mopping, the door was open. I repeated my greetings.
‘ Namaste. Here you are,my child!’, she replied with a 100volt smile pasted on her beautiful face.

I am happy that my mother was able to convince m to go visit my granny,that Sunday,because I was going to have my economics test the next day,so I refused at first,bu then she managed to take me there.I’m glad, I did.
She is in an age that you can never tell how much time one has got,and all you can do,,is live the day like its your last,I think this has kind of become the motto for my grandmother. She walks like a snail. Slow yet gracefully.She lives in Lodhi Road. She lives alone.The house is massive. There are 6 rooms in that particular floor where she lives,the ground and top floor too connected with the first.The ground floor is occupied by a family of 4,a kin to my granny.while she stays on the floor above,she is expected to be with herself only. My maternal uncle,my grandmother’s eldest son,lost his wife a few years back,he has two kids,big enough to go settle in Mumbai.My uncle has been a headache for the entire family because of becoming highly psychotic and depressed,that clearly reflects in how things have become ugly with his relationships.He moved out to Noida after the demise of my late aunt. I don’t remember the last time I saw him interacting with people of his family,let alone my granny. They are like sort of reclusive now.Although my granny wouldn’t still mind him coming to reconcile with her or talking or offering a shoulder,even after what all she has been through regarding my uncle,my uncle refuses to lock eyes with her.Well,that’s a different story altogether.

My grandmother lives alone,in such a big house ,where two families of 4 could easily accommodate themselves.the winds blowing enter the rooms that are empty and unlocked,and rap my grandmother in nostalgia ,but she stays strong.family photographs hanging on the walls,Pictures of Rhino,their late dog,finding its place on the walls,reminds her of how the family was,and always sans her.Yet,she  is stoic and sturdy and never did she complain on these little details.
My granny has had a beautiful relation with my mother and her three daughters ,they are always there for her,its like after my granny has understood,that her daughters are now mothers themselves,she has realized,that she no longer needs to be on their head anymore,so my aunts and my mom herself is paying back to her,as being the reverse mother to her.It is a beautiful relationship they share.I sigh.

She got us tea and some snacks.She prepares them herself,despite having somebody to offer to help.She sits with us and talks and narrates news that she has got from here and there.She left the room when all of a sudden,out of nowhere my uncle pops up for some paperwork urgency,we greeted him,but we didn’t exchange anymore words.He leaves after a few minutes.

I was reading ‘The wedding’ , because I was sure,I was going to get bored because there was no sibling around,My dad was busy reading India Today and mom was accompanying my granny in preparing food. They later went to the terrace to see the traffic go by and have a good talk. They love to talk, trust me.While my mom carefully instructs granny to stay strong and be alright,I notice my grandma trying to control her tears,you could just make it out from her ****** expressions,her hands,quietly folded over another,and her head bowing down,she has never been confident and assertive,I had correctly judged.I ad overheard them talking,when I was passing by the room library searching for Sidney Sheldon.And that was when my respect for my granny grew,because in an age liker hers,the very innate ability to hold on,that perseverance,the  strength ,the power of forgiveness ,I mentally touched her feet and hugged her,because I was in no mood to disturb her conversations.I passed by.
I was learning each moment. In that house,I have been a lot of times before,but this one time,that Sunday,I was feeling like home,like a school moreover,in a moral science class all night. I was done with my economics revision,and it was time for diner.She had prepared Hot chapatis and my ever favorite Paneer for the dinner.She paired paneer with yoghurt,that was a new yet crazy combination,I tried and I was enjoying it,not because it was THE combination,but I felt like it was her idea of how food tasted, like she always felt curd could fix everything,not potentially everything,but,It’d be stupid to object her.
The dinner was tasty.
She cleans up the entire house herself. Like I said,6 rooms and a balcony,is not a small thing.it is one strenuous task she agrees to take up,not occasionally.but everyday.She refuses to take a house help,despite her health conditions,because she wants to  utilize her time or pass time in some way or the other. TV is the only source of color in her life.That keep her occupied. I salute you,granny.
I offered to do the dishes that day,but she saw me doing it,she came half running,half walking to stop me from doing it,and said this doesn’t look good,the guest doing it,and I was a princess to her,she asked me to step back,and I did not revolt,I knew,she did not have anything else to do except do them and sit and watch the sky and finally sleep . I stepped back.
I was reading my book,and there’s this part,when Noah shares that he still feeds the swan because he thinks Allie is the swan and she promised him to be there with him,so she finds her way through the swan.And I saw myself crying.i rushed to the balcony.Took a few deep breaths,sobered myself up,and a few winds blew,and I felt nice.
My granny was talking with my mother while my dad was listening like a puppy.i was reading,I could barely hear what she was talking about,and I didn’t want to even know what were they talking about,because the more I knew,the more anger built up,and the more I’d get sentimental and feel sorry for my grandmother.But no,she is not the one you’d feel sorry for,she was never wrong,and she isnt,and wont be,she is just a simple figure,an epitome of sacrifice and suffering and with such patience to be jealous of.We offered her to come and spend the time with us,and  all her other daughters and her grandchildren,but she refused,she wanted to be in the house,take care f the house,she was just so emotionally attached to the building that had lost its meaning,it was just a HOUSE and nt a HOME.she wasn’t made to feel it was,she had no reason,but she still loved it there.

I still wonder,while I’m writing here about her today,she wont be able to read this gift I am giving her,giving her love back,what would she be doing? No,this isnt T V  time,maybe making tea,what after it? She cannot read or write.She cant be on the phone all the time,then what? Maybe just sitting in the balcony? But today,its hot . then what? Just sitting on the couch,watching my grandfather's portrait hanging on the wall,I think she’ll brush off the dust on the garland and the painting maybe. Or she’ll re arrange the sofa covers or curtains. I don’t know. While we have so much to do,while people forget people everyday,while people make new friends,have so many tings to look forward to,we have so much access to **** our time and pass it away,but she ? she just stays this way and she just exists.

It was time to leave. My respect level for her had gone par average. I just wanted to stare at her for hours in silence,or maybe play with her,or maybe teach her pronounce some swaggy English **** words,I do that when she is at our place.She loves it with me.

Hmmmm.

As we were walking downstairs, I tried and rush and pause and rush and slow down again and again,to whether escape the moment,of the farewell,because it’d be hard,I could bet,and slow down so that I could see more of her.i just couldn’t get enough. In that moment,I swear,I loved her like a man loves a woman.But ine,was much more passive or hidden,I have always had issues with expression,and I regret that.

She could climb downstairs,the steps were steep and endless.She stayed there,while we went down,she bid us a goodbye,waving her hands like the flag of love ,like saying ‘ IT WAS GREAT TO HAVE YOU ALL HERE,I FELT SO BEAUTIFUL.YOU JUST FILLED THIS GAP I THOUGHT I’D SUFFER THIS WEEKEND.THANK YOU SO MUCH,I LOVE YOU,AND I DON’T KNOW,IF I SEE YOU AGAIN,BUT PLEASE BE IN TOUCH,AND LOVE EVERYBODY’. BUT SHE SAID ‘ bye’ .A  LONGER,STRETCHED VERSION OF BYE ,THOUGH.

It was dark,I saw her waving,I was waving back,so was mom and dad,mom and dad rushed forward,while i was till bye-ing my granny. I thanked god that it was night time,an nobody could see the tears gushing down my face. While we leave in 3.she bids us adieu in just 1. Years ago,she’d be with 4 others,and now she is just single. Alone.By herself. Still not complaining.NEVER.

I wiped them .My tears,and was crying till I got into the car,people saw me weeping maybe.I sat down.Still sobbing. Trying not to let people or mom and dad precisely notice my tears ,and I wasn’t brave enough to tell them that I was crying because I thought it might be the last time I saw her or how a wonderful woman she is.The wind was blowing hard and cold on me,while I was listening to Dead hearts on the phone.like the universe was conspiring in making me cry my guts out . My reverence for that woman was getting higher and higher beyond measure.At the traffic signal,a little girl comes up to me,my head was leaning back into the car seat,like a drunk Peter van Houten,while she leaned against the car window glass too,I think she was the only one in the entire night,to actually see me crying,she smiled. I smiled back. She glanced at me for a few moments,I was still smiling at her,she asekd me if I had money,but I wasn’t carrying any then,so I said ‘I’m sorry’ without speaking.She understood and she smiled and left.Slowly and gradually the wind helped me in evaporating my tears,so that I didn’t have to manually wipe them off,because just in case,mom saw me doing that,I wouldn’t know how to respond.
Thankfully,I fell asleep in the car and as I reached back home,I felt a little lighter,I called up granny and informed we were home safe.[ she always wants us to inform her when we do]  And she very sweetly said good night and a bye and then I thought to myself that HOW COULD SHE BE SO GENTLE AND NORMAL? I WAS SO JEALOUS OF HER RESIGNATION.I LOVE YOU GRANNY.
With a heavy heart and a new day to follow and with less percentage worries  of the test the next day ,and more of how my granny would pass away the time and sleep with a smile on her face ,I looked at the walls,said my night prayer and rolled my eyes,and went off to sleep.

There’s no place like home... except Grandma’s .
cc
an ode to the pure heroine i have ever come across.thanks granny
x
bleh  Sep 2014
Erotic poem
bleh Sep 2014
I'm getting tired of writing
things on a piece of paper
and having them thrown away
to places i know very little about
THIS IS NOT THE POEM I ORIGINALLY WROTE
THIS ONE IS WORSE..
GOOD WORSE Xd


Love and lust
you and me
different sides
of the same coins
if she loves you like a poet
and f's you like a h
never let her go
and just so you know
i can be both

oh boy, your ***** could act like gasoline
soak me in it
and let your kiss start a fire
And ignite my skin
wherever you touch

Get some movement down there
won't ya?
in and out
slow and fast
smoother and rougher
just satiate the thirst you yourself
have created
'cause you're the only one who can

So, won't you be my artist?
and paint on my surfaces slowly
Or
Wuld you liker it better
if i took control
and doodled on your body
wuth my tongue as a paintbrush
With your raw material
and my lovely strokes
you could be a mster-piece you already are
I'll always carry you with me
haVE a copy-right
or why not brand you
with my name upon your chest
My touch,
your nakedness
My palm
Your hard drive
My lips
your lips
My smile
your ouch
My hand
Your skinwarm and wet
My legs
your thighs
Me driving
Your vehicle
We can take turns
you could
mold me
squeeze me
caress me
feed on me
devour me
completely
savor me
every inch of me
Electrify me
Tear through
all my layers
kiss my lips
both of them
It was a dismal and a fearful night:
Scarce could the Morn drive on th’ unwilling Light,
When Sleep, Death’s image, left my troubled breast
    By something liker Death possest.
My eyes with tears did uncommanded flow,
    And on my soul hung the dull weight
    Of some intolerable fate.
What bell was that? Ah me! too much I know!

My sweet companion and my gentle peer,
Why hast thou left me thus unkindly here,
Thy end for ever and my life to moan?
    O, thou hast left me all alone!
Thy soul and body, when death’s agony
    Besieged around thy noble heart,
    Did not with more reluctance part
Than I, my dearest Friend, do part from thee.

My dearest Friend, would I had died for thee!
Life and this world henceforth will tedious be:
Nor shall I know hereafter what to do
    If once my griefs prove tedious too.
Silent and sad I walk about all day,
    As sullen ghosts stalk speechless by
    Where their hid treasures lie;
Alas! my treasure’s gone; why do I stay?

Say, for you saw us, ye immortal lights,
How oft unwearied have we spent the nights,
Till the Ledæan stars, so famed for love,
    Wonder’d at us from above!
We spent them not in toys, in lusts, or wine;
    But search of deep Philosophy,
    Wit, Eloquence, and Poetry—
Arts which I loved, for they, my Friend, were thine.

Ye fields of Cambridge, our dear Cambridge, say
Have ye not seen us walking every day?
Was there a tree about which did not know
    The love betwixt us two?
Henceforth, ye gentle trees, for ever fade;
    Or your sad branches thicker join
    And into darksome shades combine,
Dark as the grave wherein my Friend is laid!

Large was his soul: as large a soul as e’er
Submitted to inform a body here;
High as the place ’twas shortly in Heaven to have.
    But low and humble as his grave.
So high that all the virtues there did come,
    As to their chiefest seat
    Conspicuous and great;
So low, that for me too it made a room.

Knowledge he only sought, and so soon caught
As if for him Knowledge had rather sought;
Nor did more learning ever crowded lie
    In such a short mortality.
Whene’er the skilful youth discoursed or writ,
    Still did the notions throng
    About his eloquent tongue;
Nor could his ink flow faster than his wit.

His mirth was the pure spirits of various wit,
Yet never did his God or friends forget;
And when deep talk and wisdom came in view,
    Retired, and gave to them their due.
For the rich help of books he always took,
    Though his own searching mind before
    Was so with notions written o’er,
As if wise Nature had made that her book.

With as much zeal, devotion, piety,
He always lived, as other saints do die.
Still with his soul severe account he kept,
    Weeping all debts out ere he slept.
Then down in peace and innocence he lay,
    Like the Sun’s laborious light,
    Which still in water sets at night,
Unsullied with his journey of the day.

But happy Thou, ta’en from this frantic age,
Where ignorance and hypocrisy does rage!
A fitter time for Heaven no soul e’er chose—
    The place now only free from those.
There ‘**** the blest thou dost for ever shine;
    And whereso’er thou casts thy view
    Upon that white and radiant crew,
See’st not a soul clothed with more light than thine.
590

Did you ever stand in a Cavern’s Mouth—
Widths out of the Sun—
And look—and shudder, and block your breath—
And deem to be alone

In such a place, what horror,
How Goblin it would be—
And fly, as ’twere pursuing you?
Then Loneliness—looks so—

Did you ever look in a Cannon’s face—
Between whose Yellow eye—
And yours—the Judgment intervened—
The Question of “To die”—

Extemporizing in your ear
As cool as Satyr’s Drums—
If you remember, and were saved—
It’s liker so—it seems—
But wherefore do not you a mightier way
Make war upon this ****** tyrant, Time,
And fortify your self in your decay
With means more blessèd than my barren rhyme?
Now stand you on the top of happy hours,
And many maiden gardens yet unset,
With virtuous wish would bear you living flowers,
Much liker than your painted counterfeit:
So should the lines of life that life repair
Which this, Time’s pencil, or my pupil pen
Neither in inward worth nor outward fair
Can make you live your self in eyes of men.
    To give away your self keeps your self still,
    And you must live drawn by your own sweet skill.
In a perfect world...they met.
He loved computers, she loved books.
The kitchen was their favourite place though now they eat more of junk.
He said the first "hello", she really didn't say "hi".
Tall, handsome and some more
White teeth, curvy and "very intelligent."
Somewhere in the future they became friends
Intelligent conversations, you'd think they had knowledge.
Cat fights and playful jibes
Unseen glances and pregnant silences
A little bit of sarcasm to spice up the talk
An invite to dinner sealed it up.

A pause, a sigh...uncertain glances
and some hiccups in their once flawless discuss.
An inch to reduce the centimeter long distance between them
"I like you...I more than like you," he said.
She called his bluff off but she didn't sleep well that night.
All the sermons forgotten, she only could remember
The gospel her "liker" preached.
A handful of MTN extracool calls still didn't quench the fire
Something kept fanning the flames.

Finally he gave up on her or did he?
Some serious talk and several quarrels
She decided to "try" him out.
So many things happened,  God was watching this "Titanic"
The ship set sail but not before they christened her "relationship".
Oblivious to the massive ice cold danger, they climbed aboard and became passengers.
The voyage was disturbing, turbulent waters and serious storms
Two captains in one closet, they hit their heads too many times.
No destination in mind, they just kep moving like a waving flag.
This titanic crashed and heaven had a field day.
What was left of the movie was take-home memories.

But unlike that Titanic, no casualties were recorded
Only a mind fullof regrets and pain indescribable
Because they forgot the One whose mind is full of them.
But He told you to ask first
He said to you, you'll never lack a mate
So why did you jump ship? His ship.
Why was a relationship more important to you than fellowship?
He loves you still and that's why you have a bleeding heart and not a broken home..

Start all over, this time with Him in the equation.
Bring that man before your Maker
and ask God to put you to sleep
So your "Eve" can be brought out.
The lady, her man and their Maker
The eternal principle for a lasting relationship.
"The Triangular Love Story" is a collection of my poems that talks about marriage, divorce, dating, failed relationships and lasting relationships.
This one is for every heart that has been stretched or broken..start over.
*MTN is a telecommunications network service provider
*Extracool call is an MTN plan that allow customers to make free calls to other MTN subscribers from.12:30AM to 4:30AM
AM  Aug 2015
BFF
AM Aug 2015
BFF
She's my first tear catcher
my personal mood charger
we share stupid laughs together
and become each others' healer
she's the coolest life teacher
my idiotic picture liker
helping me to be a better stalker
each time my ex has another girl
she's the angel and the devil
knows me better than a fortune teller
she's my best of friends
she's my forever
I am so desperate, for you my Saving God.
For there is none other that could save me.
For there is none other, liker you Lord God.
I am so very Desperately needing you God.
For who else can rescue and save me Lord.
I need you so desperately my Saving Savior.
There is none other, whom can save me God.
For you have my Life and my Soul as well.
For only you can save any of us from everything.
YusufKudsi Jan 2019
Her eyes were like the shining stars
Gave him joy and pain  
Her eyes reminded him of the one once was here
He felt Happiness and sadness every time he looked at them
Because Her eyes were liker her mother’s
mr t  Nov 2017
kill it
mr t Nov 2017
When you see it
You’ll start to scream
It’s presence is overwhelming
You become afraid
Afraid of all the possibilities
Running through your brain
With no good outcomes
Tears flood your eyes
And flow liker
Down your pale cheeks
Your body is under the control
Of a strong fear
Nothing can be done
Until someone else kills it
You’re rescued
By a hero
A spider killing hero
One of my top fears

— The End —