Can give 100's of satisfaction
For lightening the life.

Can give 100's of hopes
For moving away from the darkness.

Can give 100's Of proof
For achieving a brighter way.

Can give 100's of illuminance
For maintaining the self build perspective.

Poured oil in diya is enough to complete the life.

My own points of view,
Distilled in a dialect of disjointed truths,
Don't know how best to say this,
But without artistic expression every other word is tasteless.
Can't stop, can't become complacent,
But the other side watches me from perspectives placed adjacent.
Wish I made it,
Wish the whole world was just a little bit less abrasive.
Can't say I understand it much at all,
But maybe you could decipher something worthwhile in my cryptic scrawls.
Easy to see the whole world as corrupt,
But I'd much rather see it as majestic as ****.

Writing creates a paradigm.

Much like a camera, it is a paradigm that we can look through in order to see the world, or create one, from a different perspective.

I decided to step away from my art and look at the lens itself instead of looking through it.

What I found is that we are able to paint pictures with words, pictures that don’t exist and we can create artworks with those pictures that allow you to see them in the most magical way possible while knowing that each artwork is different and unique depending on the person that composes it.

It is being able to travel the world as we know it through symbols and letters while not moving an inch from where we are in time and lead ourselves to a beautiful yet twisted sense of duality.

Maybe it’s the feeling of godhood in creating life, worlds or even stories yet I am still human but I become a god outside of time.

I take my imagination and make it tangible.

They say actions speak louder than words but I am a writer and words are all I have. So, maybe one day, as these words drip from my fingertips they will find you and they will drown your thoughts with beautiful pictures and hopefully, you might just understand,

Why we write.

They say actions speak louder than words,

But there’s still a reason why the pen is mightier than the sword.

Coffee on Monday morning
carries a richer aroma
and a sweeter flavor
than the same brew
in the same cup
any other day of the week.
If our minds, our experiences
define so many of our tastes,
consider the satisfying joy a handshake
brings to a lonely old hermit.
Imagine the luscious splendor
of a long walk during a summer drizzle
after the endless confinements
of hospitals, doctors, and the funeral home
when she departed this realm.

People will pull at your hair and grab at your skin,
Using any trouble from their past as an excuse.
A forest of nettles and thorns screaming their injustice at you,
Claiming that they’ve been pricked and punctured, too.
People will entice you closer with their spectacular displays of colour,
Bouquets of warmth and support luring your trust.
They will promise of helping you find that last puzzle piece,
Whilst silently changing the picture.
People will subtly critique every aspect of your being,
Hiding their true intentions behind a fake grin.
They will wait for you fall to your knees,
Watching as your foundations start to crumble.

You will grab at your skin and pull at your hair,
Using every word they have ever said as an excuse.
You will try to hide who you really are,
Your race, your history, your beliefs.
You will focus on every thorn and nettle they have buried in you,
Never turning to see the roses growing in your hands.

You will take a step back,
Out of all the chaos and noise of their hate.
You will begin to plant seeds of your own
In the cracks in your veins that they left.
It will hurt to tear out the thorns and to burn off those nettles,
But oh god will it hurt more to walk with them through that forest of pain.

BLACK?
Black cat?
Curse...
Black colour?
Known as bad...
But what about the Black Board?
It makes the student's life Bright
Everything has two perspectives look onto the positive side.