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INTROSPECT

Whatever be the matter, however annoying, please, please, please introspect.

Think deeply with all your heart, before you speak or act, please introspect.

Do not hurt the sentiments of people belonging to another sect; please introspect.

Most importantly, put yourself in the others place, then interact. Please introspect.

Make life let us easy, for ourselves and others, search for facts. Please introspect.

Respect religions all, but follow and practise our own; don't detract. Please introspect.

A lot our ancestors suffered, yet our religion they did protect; upon this, let's please introspect.

Wouldn't our world be wonderful n much better, if every aspect, we did INTROSPECT.

Armin Dutia Motashaw
Jen Jan 2019
Hello…
Introspect?
You reflect inside,
Deep within.
You need subtle reminders
To look out.

Introspect?
Hello…
You hear a person in the distance say out loud,
“This is my favorite place to watch the sunset in the city...”
Introspect, looks out.

It needs these subtle reminders sometimes.
Suddenly introspect leaves for a few minutes time;
And, it’s so sublime to be out of your mind.

To see the snow kissed mountain peaks in full clarity,
Back-lit by pale pink sky so serene.
For a moment, you forget what was going on inside.
The sunset so saturating,
Orange juice might easily be squeezed from its rays.
Then you eye the towering crystal-clear star on the hill,
And for a few more seconds you forget
Introspect.






Hello…
This poem was inspired as I was walking along one day, lost in thought, in introspect.  All of a sudden I came out of my trance as I heard a man's voice loudly say in the distance, “This is my favorite place to watch the sunset in the city...” I looked behind me from where his voice was coming from to see the most beautiful sunset.  After that I noticed the beautiful mountain peaks that sometimes I don't take the time to admire... then the shining star on top of the towering building on the hill... Introspect is the main character here.  Happy New Year. :)
Saumya Aug 2018
It is often when I tend to pause and introspect  on life, my experiences with in in general. It is in such moments, I feel  myself imbibed, yet  so stunned  at the realisation of the fact, that it is so knowingly, yet often most unknowingly that we affect everyone whose life's paths we cross through! It may sure be the case that  we don't mean too much to a person as the other person already does, but then, what we still are mostly unaware of at that moment, is how beautifully, intensely or pathetically does our little acts and attitudes may be already affecting others, and theirs to us. Would our  lives be okay as it is currently, when the same situation is just altered a little by deducting air from it? Would we still be sitting so patiently as we are now, even if everything was same, except the mere deduction of water from our life? The mere absence of shelter and food yet again are the elements, whose mere mention of absolute deductance would be good and great enough to stop the mere throbbing of our heartbeats which might already have slowed or rather started being too swift by now!
It is interesting, how some elements are just a trifle to be valued, before we realise how worse our lives could be
only by their absence, or well departure! Doesn't that same rule applies for us people too? Most don't value  the hardworking yet lowly paid people like a builder or the labourer who builds their House, or mansion, as much as they value their guests and inhabitants that get into it after it's finally finalized. The guest obviously are worth the praise but aren't those
labours?  ask this to yourself for a moment, that what would your house be like if there were no labourers to make that happen! The house that keeps us safe and cosy now, is but many  day and night's struggles of someone who worked hard to make it happen in reality. He, his soul deserves to be praised for making your dream, your dream home come alive! It often makes me smile at some kindered souls whose ultimate profession is working for humanity, it's wellness, It's enrichment, It's improvement, and it's best progress, therefore I can't help but smile wide, when I come across a truly  honest teacher, doctor, mentor, poets or writers ever. They have a spark that's so  refreshing, inspiring and contagioud! They indeed are those eminent souls who nurture and enrich the souls of others so piously and profoundly, and it is often that they are just  so unaware of this preciousness and the greatness they so majestically possess!They pour in us, the true essence of the goodness our world is made up of, and make us feel a like a viable part of it. They brighten our days. it's a blessed blessing to be in the company of such gems, truly!

Afterall, us humans are so alike the state of matter called 'liquid', that is known for its 'adaptability' .It hardens and softens with  the change in temperature. sometimes hardened by our outer world's that haunts us often, yet are very eagerly  inter-convertible. And it is hence, when  the truest, and enlightening essence of  eminent souls touch us, embrace us, we transform in their moulds, sometimes and little and sometimes a lot. Sometimes very finely, and sometimes too coarsely, built in a confined type with the advent of time, and it is then, years after years, we become a person and then a personality that we let time , and the people that tread through it, in our lives transform us into. Every little to large element affects us, in ways we often don't know of. Everything teaches and tells us of life it's stories, it comes with lessons, and our hearts, out consciousness perceives them too, from time to time. We  shape mysteriously, yet so mysteriously   in and into the vessel of life eventually, that we interestingly don't realise the intensity of the change until someone else remarks us of it, and makes us realise it. These changes are just this mystical and inevitable! And change is the law of time.
From my ongoing book, "The Philosophical Lessons Life Taught".(The other chapters have been posted on page too .
Check them out if you wish to)
All your comments, feedbacks, suggestions etc. Are most welcome :)

Thank-you so much for stopping by, and going through the chapter (s) :)

Sincerely,
Saumya.
Christian Ek Aug 2014
The times are a changing and with it people change too. There was this cosmic tool handed down to me and I am obliged to use it. The ancient’s voice their opinion through my being, I simply add the eyes that see the New Age approaching. The Old Trees and the land is shrinking and their cries fill my eyes with tears. The ghostly natives whisper wisdom in my nightmares of apocalypse. Their heart is the heart of Gaia and Gaia’s heart is having an attack. The blood of man has spilled for too long and I don’t want to use that as my ink. New face of war, technological war, info war, consciousness war.  
It’s up to the artist now to open the third eye. Whatever that Art maybe I hope its an Art that leads to peaceful freedom and if it doesn’t, it is the Art of death.  Battle of light & Dark.
The light in you will spark the light in others.
revolution art individual freedom change consciousness soul earth
Leigh Marie Mar 2016
I am twenty years old
I don’t sing in the shower,
But I always try to harmonize in the car

My waterbottle is my favorite accessory
I still wear youth large clothes,
And steal from my mom’s closet

I like to wear the color red,
But I usually buy things that are blue, and my favorite color is purple
My thoughts and my actions often don’t match up

I never pay attention in class,
and sometimes focus more on IMDB
than the movie in front of me

I always run out of free article reads online,
but have a tough time reading body language

I used to be vegetarian
I don’t eat salmon
And I am pretty sure ranch dressing goes with everything

I like snapchat
But the idea of big brother scares me
Perhaps its because I am an only child

My hands are always dancing
And my shoes are always laced up to run

I always talking about growing up
As if my future is not already knocking on my door

I don’t think its fair that  we don’t have enough time to be everyone we’d wish to be
That we only get one lifetime to figure it out

I want to be a professional dancer who acts on the side and is a nurse by night
I want to travel the world, but also have a picket fence house
To be a bachelorette for life, but have a family waiting at home

I have been blessed with good health
But I’m not convinced that there isn’t a disease hiding in my abdomen

I have good grades
But somehow I have a hard time making sense of everyday life
I wish I knew what it felt like to be friends with me

But still, I don’t like myself very much
And I don’t like other people either
Or maybe other people don’t like me

I used to love the color gray
Perhaps because I was trying to find comfort in the uncertainty
Or I couldn’t decide whether light or dark made me feel at home

I believe in Sunday mornings,
And rainy days

An overcast sky makes me feel more alive
But if you ask me why,
I probably would not have an answer

I don’t like having my picture taken,
Though always smile when I’m taking someone else’s

I am afraid of tomorrow,
And yesterday’s should haves,
Scare me

I am not very good with a GPS
But being lost never worries me
Except for that one time,
In the woods,
Alone

Probably because being alone feels infinite
And being together feels fleeting
I treasure my alone time, but am
Always missing
You

I’m not sure if this is all worth it,
But for what its worth,
It just might be
Some of my favorite poems are just describing oneself. I find them to be an excellent practice of reflection, and a challenge to write because of listing the carefully chosen facts
TinaMarie Feb 2012
Long term exposure can cause damage to your mind
     Keep at a safe distance, just come close for a good time.

The package may look good, My heart is in the right place
     But toxins flow through me, You're best to keep your space.

Small doses are fine and have little effect
     But prolonged contact is bound to affect.

The damage that is done creeps up over time
     This is a warning for your sake and mine.




© Tina Thompson
~inspired by a broken soul.
Keiko Larrieux Dec 2009
This takes me back
Back to years
When I was wanted

When I was driven
Expectations daunted.

The trickledown theory of love
You may never get more
Than the person above

Asked to cross a bridge
Never constructed or built
Stretching with miles and miles of guilt

Switching each memory back
Clutching each thought
Remembering each act

This takes me back
Back to years
When I was wanted

When I was driven
Expectations daunted.

Now I live here
In stained judgment
Amazed at the emancipation
Of a withered reputation
Babu kandula Apr 2016
When time passes am a memory
A mystery to the unknown
A lovely experience to someone
And also a nightmare to someone
Whatever I do it whenever
Sometimes I have no clue on it
As a human and a social animal
Am very curious
To place my step in an innovative way
Am that one bad critic of mine
Who always introspect mercilessly
And finally this is my understanding
Of what I actually look

Chances I may be wrong ....

In Telugu language

కాలం గడిచే కొద్ది నేనో జ్ఞాపకం
కొందరికి అంతు చిక్కని ప్రశ్న
మరికొంత మందికి ఓ చక్కని అనుభవం
ఇంకొంత మందికి మరిచిపోలేని భారం
ఏ పని ఎందుకు ఎప్పుడు ఎలా చేసానో
కొన్ని సార్లు నా దగ్గరే సమాదానం లేదు
మనిషిగా ఒక్క సామాజిక పశువుగా
ప్రతి అడుగు విభినంగా వేయాలని
తాపత్రయపడే ఓ సాదాసీదా వాడిని
నన్ను ప్రతి రోజు విశ్లేషించుకునే
ఒక్క జాలి లేని విమర్శకుడిని
చివరిగా ఇది నా మీద నేను
సాహసంతో చేసుకున్న విశ్లేషణ !!!

నమస్తే ...
jon May 2021
Over the years I’ve heard that when a person is up at 3 am they’re either lonely or in love
I wonder which one I fall under from the two choices from above
When it’s all said and done I planned the perfect day for us, we’re gonna have some fun
Suddenly I wake up it was just a day dream, you were right there about to be in my grasp, how lovely that would be
I’d listen to you all night, my hands tracing your body, feels like ecstasy, and if you let me I’ll explore and hit all the right spots
I love the way you play during the day, you’re such a good girl who does a lot for her people without a thought
You’ve been so good and I’m proud of you, do you know what that means? You get to indulge yourself with a little treat
Staying up all night with the bright night light so I can remind you there’s light in the darkness
There’s a fire inside me and I’m pretty sure you’re the one who sparked it

Laying in bed next to someone but still feeling alone while I’m a low key mess
I’m not completely alone because I have one of my favorite girls always with me, Mary Jane to ease the daily pain
I’m off on an adventure to escape my life, gain a new experience that feels right, and explore the earth’s landscape
I’m thinking of our memories in high school, I try not to let them get the best of me but it’s hard when I’m feeling lonely
I remember our first kiss, the way we used to reminisce, and the way you used to love me
We were young and naive, back then I really ****** up, I begged you not to leave me
I didn’t mean to hurt you so bad, I was thrown into the water early in life, I didn’t know how to swim so I was slowly drowning
I’m speaking metaphorically just in case you don’t know, it’s a comparison of how I wasn’t taught to love properly
Not making any excuses I just want you to see my perspective and retroactively introspect it
I’ve been opening up lately and I want you to know how much I’ve grown by going to therapy to take a break from life and reflect on it
We’ve both changed and matured since then but there are qualities of you that remain and they’re the ones I’ve always loved
I miss our walks, the way we would tease one another, I loved to kiss you in the pouring rain, sometimes biting your lip a little rough
I miss your lips, and holding your hand just because I can and the way we were there for each other when push comes to shove
I’m lucky to have crossed paths with you because sometimes I desire another chance and I have two left feet but I’d dance with you if you wanted me to
No matter what I’ve done you never think less of me and that’s one of my favorite things about you
The days where we would pull each other out of our sadness and straight into a kind of love madness
You’re one of a kind and a lovely distraction, when our eyes meet that’s law of attraction
I love everything about you I don’t know where to begin or even start, like my mom and dad, you’re my high school sweet heart.
Meenu Syriac Jan 2015
'Tis easier to look at a mirror
Than to dare introspect,
As the reflection subdues
The deceit buried in a tangled web of lies.
As the light dances on ripples in the water,
The shimmer it casts
To a void that is our souls.
There's darkness all around,
In our hearts and in our minds.
And in times like these
When our thirst is quenched with only more fire,
Our thoughts become inked in red,
Reminded of the weakness of our fortitudes,
And the shallowness of our words,
Let alone be our deeds.

The story of how a good man goes to war,
Lost to the morals of an unsound mind,
Resounds like a thunder in the midst of nowhere.
And as he raised his hand
And plunged a knife
Into the very heart of another his kind,
There he lost himself to the deafening screams of mankind.

And we find ourselves without voices
Drowning in a sea full of tears.
There is ONLY us,
THIS is all us...
OUR tragedies
OUR failures
OUR deeds.
We let ourselves fall,
**Even before the walls came tumbling down.
© Meenu Syriac
Allan Pangilinan Mar 2015
When you starting asking why,
Things get a little shaky.
This question will just try,
Boggle your mind that was all ready.

But you keep on doing what you do,
Even though you can't understand.
To your beliefs you'll remain true,
Everyone can always reach for your hand.

This is the kind of love that I have.
A kind that completes everyones halves.
A kind of love that transcends.
A kind of live that you can't comprehend.
mûre Aug 2013
Cast me a stone, all ye who are able
I'm certain all that lies herein tells a fable.
If it made things hurt less, I'd bite at a bone
But I relish the taste of what I wish I had known.
If only you were gone. If only you were here.
My diary has become more deadly than dear.
The endless void swells with the breeze
Of countless stars like tapestries
That sail their ancient primal songs
With all the creatures of the dawn

Myriad waves of force in rhyme
Bend the stone mast with the time
While rainbow’s chorus sings to life
To sail beyond the sea of strife

Introspect , the bottomless key
To stand an island in the sea
And watch the mainsail fill with breeze
On the ship of evermore

The ripples in the endless maw
Sing of mighty tortoise paw
The force that out survives the claw
Of time and matter’s law

Within the harbor of my mind
I search the ocean in the time
To see if I will ever find
My ship to sail the sea of rhyme

Introspect the bottomless key
To stand an island in the sea
And watch the mainsail fill with breeze
On the ship of evermore

Into tomorrow’s skies we fly
On wings of light and castle brine
To see if we will ever find
Within the harbors of our minds
Our ships to sail the sea of rhyme
With the force that out survives the time

In the yellow forest with the trees of time
Talking with the wind there between the wheels of rhyme
Just another color looking for the ocean with it’s mind
Another oldie
I would've loved to meet her.
The sweetness you spoke in her honor.
A gentle breeze in a month of freezes.
Electric, connective, explorative.

I would love to meet the next.
The sweetest of peas.
Only bluest when being overly fruitful.

Reflections of trekking tower of the familial tree.
Expectations of expecting in introspect.

Forgive me for being greedy, wanting to be involved in your life.
Forgive me for involving my love.

I shall let the resting rest, the ones that need rest to get rested, and give my mind and soul a rest.



Ifeanyichuku Okoro © 2023
October 24th, November 4th.
T Zanahary Nov 2012
Goodbye.
Yesterday, tomorrow
the life before was.
I’ve met you before

                                                                                        as we sat down
                                                           i watched worlds align
                                                               in your movements
                                                                                  and stars become
                                                     black                                           holes
                                                                                      in jealousy
                                                              you are beautiful
                                                                                        you are beauty


we drank the night
to day;
dizzy, star-struck,
watching time stop
in our swaying movements

                                                                                                  too bad
                                                          she couldn’t hold her liquor
                                                              our drunken timelines
                                                                   intersected
                                                                       in stumbled
                                                                           introspect
                                                                                      skipping steps
                                                           i enjoyed
                                                                         our spinning thoughts
                                                                  and tongues sharing
                                                           aged language
                                                   alongside new bottles
                                                                                  until i was forced
                                                           to watch her phase
                                                                            in and out
                                                                                           of herself


that moon *****
must’ve had more
than she could handle,
because the next day
there was a new face
on her course,
wasting happy hours
shouting sad times
to morose microphones,

                                                                                         if you fail
                                                                                           to sing
                                                               your anger will
                                                                   leave you to scream
                                                                       and shout
                                                       similarities
                                                            stunningly simple


masking taxation of
tie-ins’ infusion inbreeding,
demonization of sharing similarities
left time socially awkward
and unacceptably indulgent
of the mindless self

                                                                                 tonight i will
                                                                       join myself in song
                                                it will be a hymn
                                                     rhythm saved by him
                                                          we’ll circle ‘til its begin


we’ve refin
Millie May 2023
My own person is healthy and courageous. My own person is self-aware and emotionally intelligent. He is growth-oriented, resourceful and positive.

My own person is supportive, thoughtful, kind and empathetic. My own person is ready to take accountability, communicate and work through things even when the going gets rough.

My own person desires to make me happy, chooses me and shows up for me. He is sure about me and healthily obsessed with me. My own person encourages and lifts me up when I’m at a low point.

My own person does not disappear when I need him. My own person protects me. He knows how to introspect, reflect and has a desire to be better.

My own person does not make me feel small or irrelevant. My own person is a secure place where I can feel at home. My own person is expressive. He is a source of light when I am in a dark place.

My own person is as sure about me as the sun rises and sets without our asking, with certainty; regardless of the weather, timezone or location.
I was thinking about the traits I'd love to have in a partner and put this together.
A Jul 2022
Waves of sadness as you wave in my direction. I see you go, I watch you leave. Just as the seasons appear and dispose of me. We take turns walking away, from people we never talked to. Wondering why it hurts the same. Hating that it hurts as all of these people go. Sudden realisation hit us one by one. As we wonder, and walk, and wonder around all the topics we may have avoided. The thoughts we’re apparently devoid of. Introspect, retrospect, dissect ourselves in this critical moment. Nostalgia knocking us over making us think and  making us feel, for once. A remarkable feat, it must be applauded. Ovation, overjoy, overwhelm. Over this. Over them. Over it. Time moving so agonisingly slowly, wishing away the years. Needing to escape, yet wanting to eternalise the way they make me feel. Nothing lasts forever. Maybe you should’ve, yet you didn’t. Now you’re all that’s left tell me how it feels. It doesn’t feel good, it doesn’t even seem right. Yet it’s a must and a miss you. The question has to be asked: why are you crying now? After all these months, why are you letting it hit now? Stay strong, be strong, be you. Be fearless and young. The golden years fade away into shades of blue and black skies. I wish you all well, and a happy birthday. Get well soon, get there soon. It’s all getting to me too soon. It’s too soon. How are we already here? We were all the way over there yesterday. Faces flash and second pass by with smiles. Frowning back, the question must be asked, why are you so sad?
Written on the final day of college.
Norman Crane Aug 2021
slow, wasteful minutes:
begone!—but why? they shape us
void time trims the self
JDG Nov 2013
I'm lost where no one goes;
a place that no one knows;
the black hole of my mind,
and you will never find
me.
~
May 2024
HP Poet: Melancholy of Innocence
Age: 59
Country: India


Question 1: A warm welcome to the HP Spotlight, Melan. Please tell us about your background?

Melancholy of Innocence: "My name is Raj / Melan (as on HP). I am an Architect and Urban Planner with a MBA. I unsuccessfully pursued Doctorate (twice), but due to circumstances - could not complete it. I have worked with several International Non-Profit Development Organizations and Projects. While living in Amsterdam (Holland) for 4 years I was International Development Manager in-charge of ten-countries of the world – Oceania (Australia, New Zealand, Papua New Guinea), South-East Asia (Indonesia, Thailand, Philippines), Spain, Russia, Belgium, United Kingdom and Chile. And for separate projects I have lived for more than 6 months in Bangkok (Thailand) and Accra (Ghana). I have travelled to more than 40+ countries."


Question 2: How long have you been writing poetry, and for how long have you been a member of Hello Poetry?

Melancholy of Innocence: "The first vivid memory of mine that I can call as a poem was when I was 8 years old. I had gone to my Mom’s office picnic tour for 2-days and there I had met someone of similar age of opposite gender. On coming back, whose name I wrote “three” times (one below the other in 3 different fonts) on the last page of my school notebook. I consider that as my first LOVE-poem. My first form of “identifiable” poetry was at the age of 13 years. It was about doing “morning household chores” and helping my Mom so that she can reach her office on time. After a very long break, it was only when my BELOVED inspired me to become member of Hello Poetry, I did so in 2016 and started writing serious poetry. I have 23 books (fiction, non-fiction, poetry) self-published on Amazon."


Question 3: What inspires you? (In other words, how does poetry happen for you).

Melancholy of Innocence: "LOVE surely inspires me. Being in LOVE makes me feel - live and breathe in PEACE. Poetry happens to me when without knowledge amidst mundane incidences of life – like, while taking bath or wearing clothes, standing in front of a mirror, reading some story/poem/article/lyrics, watching an interviews/movies/songs, listening to music OR just by observing the way people behave, express themselves, their ****** expressions, their mannerisms, smiles/sorrows/laughter/giggles; the way they walk, turn and look around them, stand, sit that always reminds me of my BELOVED. I also always make it a point to peep out from my home balcony / window seeking a glimpse of sunrise/sunset, moon/stars, birds, clouds, feeling breeze on our skin, blooming flowers, bees, insects etc. and many more things…! Basically, I think I get inspired by something that touches me deep inside and reminds me of my BELOVED. I immediately experience the realization of “I being in deep true pure eternal LOVE” in our heart and soul. That’s how poetry happens to me."


Question 4: What does poetry mean to you?

Melancholy of Innocence: "Poetry is a true expression of how exactly I feel inside me at that very particular moment of time and I try to be as honest as possible in expressing it with words that communicates my true and pure feelings of LOVE to my BELOVED."


Question 5: Who are your favorite poets?

Melancholy of Innocence: "Rumi, Omar Khayyam, Ghalib, Tagore, Neruda, Pushkin, Kabeer, Jayadeva, all enlightened Sufi fakeers and many more contemporary lyricists."


Question 6: What other interests do you have?

Melancholy of Innocence: "I like to read. Now a days I read in digital format anything that catches my interest ) text books, non-fictions, literary-award-winning books, biographies. etc. I like to draw, paint, sketch, do photography, do exercise, play sports, watch movies, serials etc. I even have written full-feature movie-scripts. I try to download and listen to all songs of music my BELOVED likes and sometimes recommends me. I like to do simple household chores (sweep/swab the house, clean the toilets etc.), do mundane shopping errands, cleaning and arranging things around me, I love to sit and observe things – “Nature”; and especially common everyday people and wonder about their childhood years and their life’s journey. I like to introspect a lot and question my own thoughts – making sure I do not get convinced and/or imprisoned by anything (beliefs, rituals, superstitions, views, thoughts, religion, philosophy, “..isms” and “so-called” TRUTHS) that I may have come across - seen, read or heard. I am very uncomfortable and vary of building identities of I, me, my, mine, myself…"


Carlo C. Gomez: “Thank you so much for allowing us this opportunity to get to know the person behind the poet, Melan! We are honored to include you in this ongoing series!”



Thank you everyone here at HP for taking the time to read this. We hope you enjoyed coming to know Melan a little bit better. I surely did. It is our wish that these spotlights are helping everyone to further discover and appreciate their fellow poets. – Carlo C. Gomez

We will post Spotlight #16 in June!

~
Todd V Vance Jan 2017
If you let this architect interject
My subject you'll dissect effectively correct
I'll try to make it clear
If you inspect or introspect with intellect these indirect
Pretentious scribbles misdirect
Collect your wits my dear
If you elect I'll be direct
No intended disrespect
I don't expect that you'll reject
A change of atmosphere
If you accept I won't defect you mustn't reflect this henpecked insects unchecked neglect
Tonight with luck I'll in fact infect
You with a grin from ear to ear
Piyush Gahlot Oct 2018
Just enough moments for myself.
Not too much that I feel lonely,
Not too less that I couldn't
Introspect,
couldn't do the things I crave,
Couldn't play that guitar,
Or couldn't watch that series I love,
That I start losing myself.

not too much that I tend to be lonely,
Tend to overthink things that ain't
in control,
Tend to miss that ex that cheated on me,
That I have no one to share my feelings.
That I couldn't sleep .

Yeah I need it ,
Not too less,
Not too much,
Just enough to satisfy my lust.
Me time : your own time for yourself.
Realise it's importance.!!
I awake tossing and turning in these sheets of confusion.
I've been here before.
What was once a moment layered thick with ominous tones,
is now you and I under this blanket that is encompassing me
in your intoxicating smell
and assuring words.
I carry no hate nor love in this instant,
just my uncertainty of your desire to stay.
Arjun Raj Jul 2016
Swipe in
Swipe out
Pay bills
And *******

“Repeat” they say
And you might be,
Programmed to deceive
Time, freedom, and drive,
To only move forward,
Or rather be just fooled into
Believing that you
Are moving forward,
By coming back to

Swipe in
Swipe out
Pay bills
And *******
Again

Why?,
We must question
Where?,
Did we **** up
When?
Did we exhaust our drive,
The passion, to be a somebody,
To make a difference
To touch people’s lives
To follow our dreams,
Lets introspect for a while,
While we,

Swipe in
Swipe out
Pay bills
And *******
Yet again

What is this trap,
This false sense of accomplishment,
The short lived excitement,
And a remorseful hangover,
Friday nights be like another step
Towards an inevitable end
Only that we come back on Monday to

Swipe in
Swipe out
Pay bills
And *******
All over again
thinklef Aug 2013
As the sun reaches it zenith & the moon becomes full,
Soldiers are deployed at various point,
Allowing their thought to wander away into ephemeral violence,
Well armed,
Red pointers at human sight,
killing in the pretence of liberation,
Defenceless civilians murdered in sight,

I don't have the adequate vocabulary to constructively & emotionally create that atmosphere,

As a poet they don't mind if I make a sound
But it's a real problem
if I ever get too loud,

It enrages me,
I'm bitterly miffed,
Imagine the agony, stress, depression & tension they are
going through,
Let's be factual,

Their based desire & legitimate purpose is to associate ,affiliate & standardize us as terrorist,

They come in front of our tv & give us speech our forefathers have never heard of,
Humanity in it eternity have been blindfolded & deviated from the truth,

They have  become the fixed &  Luminous center around which innumerable lifestyle revolves,
Civilization will not lead mankind to insanity,

It feels good to be in power ,
But a day will come when they will ponder, reflect & introspect,
but their reflection will be to no avail,

Reflect over what I say,
In silence & tranquillity,

We may be on a Long arduous journey,
But victory is to the oppressed,
Categorically & selectively speaking ,
It will become a practical reality,

Innocent souls are been lost everyday,
In pakistan,Syria,Iraq,Iran
Yet the conference continues,
Killings intensifies,
Women are murdered,
Fathers are slaughtered,
Kids are held captive some rigorously excluded,
Without them labouring humanity searching for peace will perish,


It's a sad time we live in,
Educated leaders with no heart of  human sympathy,
Acting upon their based desires & ego,

You may call this character assassination,
I call it supreme words of justice
Only time will tell who is the true terrorist
K Balachandran Jan 2014
Her eyes
an enchanting pair,
alive and mobile,
gazing in to them,
in the beginning
of a journey
and at its end,
he finds himself reflected
just perfectly.
At times, he sees those eyes
brimming with tears
mysterious in origin,
(reminding nature)
Wet, flowing eyes
prompt him to introspect,
help him keep
his balance;
the hot spring
in those  pools
quickly melts his-
rock hard arrogance,
makes him eschew
his macho male pose,
through rituals of such kind
reiterating love beyond words,
he is rechristened,
now, passionate lover,
inveterate protector,
an equal half ever.

He quickly gets elated
by the silver strands of light
emanating from the depth
of those kohl lined eyes
that tie him with easy love knots,
quiet eloquent eyes
reminds him the moments
never he would forget
with his mother as a child,
and all other women
who never failed to shower
love on him as he swam
in the pool of their adoring eyes.
Even now he is thrilled
by numerous memories
that still are prefulgent,
an oil lamp with thousand lighted wicks
he has seen in childhood
burning in the shrine of his family;
now that flame
sparkles in her eyes.
Àŧùl Sep 2016
You get back home weary from shocks,
You being impotent is not your tension,
But how two kids at home call you dad,
Basis of all your tensed thoughts is this,
Your wife still has two kids if not yours,
Your wife has the explanation to make,
May God curse the lying life of your wife.

You just get back home & draw your gun,
You load the fresh magazine in midnight,
Breathing long you put your feet silently,
But the door is ajar and she is fast asleep,
Your (or hers) children in the next room,
Your fingers tremble & you've flashback,
Many memories zoom through your mind.

You decide to use the pillow as a silencer,
You now calmly hold the pillow over her,
Breathing cautiously now you are unsure,
But her infidelity isn't what you expected,
Your heart tells you to introspect yourself,
Your mind changes after thinking about it,
Multiple times yourself have been cheating.

You pause & change your mind about her,
You have the gun now point at your own,
But now you see her stirring in her sleep,
Breaking from her sleep for water she is,
Your presence scares her to the hell now,
Your gun pointed at your heart she sees,
Mighty strength she gathers to ****** it.

You grunt and push her away from you,
You whisper, "Why did you cheat me?"
Before she replies to your weird charge,
Barked again yourself in a low whisper,
"Your children are not mine now I know,"
"Your husband is technically impotent!"

Maybe she understood everything now.

You remember that she is a policewoman,
You see her unload the gun and discard it,
"The children - both - are test tube babies,"
"The **** was mine and fertilized in vitro,"
"Your ***** was used artificially as well,"
"Your DNA from your own hair was used,"

Might have she followed the procedure.

It seems possible & you regret your actions,
But she just smiles & forgives you heartily,
"It's okay darling, I kept it secret from you,"
"It's really a cute face you've put up now,"

You now wish to sink down into the floor,
"You would forgive me for doubting you,"
Must be an angel to let you sink your head into her *****.
Part 2/2

A biotechnologist's scientific poem.

HP Poem #1157
©Atul Kaushal
India Chilton Jan 2012
The window was open in the dream
In the house I built from all the perfect sentences
The things more worthy to worship
Than clothesline windstorms and
Curtain-rod jousts between
Closet clowns and the nights they hid from.
These stolen wings are an easy veil to wear.
Would you believe me if I told you I had seen a unicorn?


I left a prayer in the south of France
In a church I called upon to swallow a sinner
I went back for it
The day when forgiveness meant
Switching the soles of my boots and body
the room was filled with every person I ever wanted to meet
I pulled a snake out of my throat and let it slither down the aisle
This was never a confession


My father was a carpenter
He built pews for a chapel he could not enter
I can count the fingers on his right hand
With the fingers on my left
The aurora borealis in my leftover love said
“You were Marcel Ayme the day we decided
That he was better at beginnings than at endings”


Rachel took a rosary to her wrist
I caught her blood because my heart couldn’t pump fast enough
To satisfy the ones asking
We cannot be tied to this desert
I’m getting slow motion sickness on the speed train to someday
Somewhere along the way we stopped shoveling coal into these engines
Started using the bodies people left along the tracks
“it’s okay,” they say,
“We’re recycling.”


A Panamanian child born on neither side of the canal
Wants this holiday hate crime
To be something other than a compass rose riddle
I need a weather balloon catapult to launch my words into orbit
So they can work weightlessness to their advantage
There were never enough chairs.
Every person at the table sat alone.

This forced perspective spills arrows from my coronet
All the things meant to ornament justified distaste
Is the sky any more magnificent when you have a God to shove inside it?
Is the sea any more deep?
Is this body any more powerful if I believe it was made in the image of someone greater?
I can see so much more with my eyes open
My hands are open on every rooftop
I can catch every raindrop


This story is a work in progress
Someday this patchwork of scattered significance
Will become subject to the needle of retrospect
But for the moment I can but introspect
On a night that belongs to the words I cannot say
And to the person I cannot say them to.
I never again thought I would breathe golden.
Teach me to make blue of enslaved fortune.


Teach me how to cry in a world that will not feast upon my insecurity
I am learning to trust though I see only the shadow of the moon.
I am learning not to hate this inherited flesh
The unwoven threads that fail to shelter these shoulders
The guilt in my gait that I cannot seem to shake
The unwanted wit that tears at the seams of sobriety.
It’s amazing how many words you wrote in my genetic code that can carry just four letters.
I was never brave enough to break.
I have no merit for mercy
spooky doopy Dec 2014
say say let me see,
take me to the hay
I'll find through soft lenses my rose colored senses
lie on my back and flip
tip me off my ******
Strip me down to my knuckles slip me under feel my knees buckle
I submit and be
let it flow over
I lie in the hay until I've beenagain
And again I'm good
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2016
Rio can have its lava lamp spectacular,
i have my Van der Graaf Generator,
studying lightning and brainwaves
(the **** you can find on suburban streets -
as they say: the best things are for free);
trees and roots upside-and-out akin to branches
stretching for the paparazzi tropism -
wannabe junkies through and through the U.V.
glittering additions.

Damocles and global warming;
it's hanging, a birth of the guillotine -
America is armed, give it a sneeze
and the public will be ready for an insurrection,
we basically marched back to the 1960s
without a Martin Luther or a Malcolm X...
people are testifying a need for leadership,
the C.I.A. and F.B.I. are on the prowl
to subdue it... if this was the ice age
i'd eat you, ******... i got bored
of chicken, let's see what you taste like;
the revision of Damocles' sword hanging over
all of us... believe me, the Arabs are fine,
they can stand this kind of heat,
they'll fry us all on a Ferrari sports-car revs
from that carbon monoxide **** ****** at
for brain damage and a ***** **** under a niqab;
me? i'm as politically correct as politicians
are on a Wednesday in Parliament during the P.M.'s
questions: ridiculous, ridiculing, ergo double
agitated... take your defence of apathy elsewhere,
into your safe-circle and dance me the ******* tango
while shadow boxing. i'm as politically correct
as the prime minister and as much as the shadow;
pulpit plonker of Peckham that was needed as a
plumbing pecker of assured speech getting the job done.

this is the revised version of b.m.i.,
i vouch like a scout that my personal library
weighs more than my body,
******, i'd eat you, no questions asked;
i'd eat you, the corpus christi curse right back at you,
Moses was a former army general,
he exploded outside of society,
Christ the Redeemer was catching carrier pigeons
by clapping inside society, the effects
came later, Grecian,
only an enriched literary civilisation could have
made profane remarks about the Jews...
what with Plato et al., the four gospels
really did miscarry the treasures of the tetragrammmaton,
that's the only Jesus bit i don't like,
well, it's pretty much all of the Jesus bit -
attacking religious figures like Elijah and the Baal priests,
he attacked but the religious cults under the Romans
flourished... then came the northern invaders of Rome
not really bothered by what the Greek wrote...
**** is this?! the **** is this?! you forget they lost
the runes and said: well Latin is the *******
for encoding hush and sepia, let's keep it,
start afresh, keep the coliseum rotting.
so much for human rights: chop the head off
and long live Charles I... keep him rotting in a cell
and you're inventing zoology, hardly human...
most men would rather the chop-off than the chaining...
vegetables in 2 cubic metres, hardly human...
**** it, most are like: end it, quick! don't make me
a loiter with my crimes... but of course the sadists won
and things collected dust...
the story was: don't read books, write something
original... Gaza strip would make the perfect novel
archetype -but subsequently loose your human empathy
allowance - somehow finding it in Oxford, half-******
and half-the-time missing the plot, to no one's bother.

yes, b.m.i. (book mind index), all that god is dead got me
thinking while we're obsessing about diets and
eating vegetarians... **** me, ain't i the cannibal tonight?
Rio... it's all Rio's fault... the ******* lava lamp and my
prize for going to buy the spirit of St. Paul's cathedral **** -
my own, van der Graaf generator -
along with the band, all classic **** given prog rock
introspection done by the one famous magazine Mojo -
no, not mojito - jackal, joke, jumper, jazzy,
south american ha or the Mexican Xavier's achoo cha ha cha
(i admit, Michael Jackson's version of: pope checks whether a choir
boy is castrated to sing the high-notes).

well, the plan is to drink yourself to death -
**** this place and **** it twice over if i am the spaghetti
with a chance of meatball genius to save it -
i'm not a coward, i'm just practical... the dinosaurs never
had so many paradoxes running through them
when Michelangelo did the meteor sequence,
after the Welsh and the Chinese intuitively drew dragons.

this is is the perfect time to be loners and childless -
it's a time when death and god is clearly explained,
but an en masse suicide pact is harder, unless you express
human pride and human vanity as the sourcing secret -
i did a mini course on sustainability beneath my
prime: chemistry at Edinburgh... can i say it was like
g.c.s.e. history? any idiot could do it.

or as was the case with political correctness with the recent
attacks in London - the English uber way of saying it
politely, they're campaigning for a loss of stigmata in
this branch of medicine that, for some strange ******* reason,
everyone gets involved and is suddenly a ******* expert -
i don't know how many ordinary civilians
claim to have degrees in psychology... too many by my count.
all those campaigns to relieve the stigmas on mental health
in order to "keep the public united" after such attacks
simply back-fired - like everyone depressed or anxious
would simply slit some stranger's throat, because
of a "history" - no amount of eloquent cover-ups will discourage
people from seeing what they see, media freedom allows
for per se manipulation - shadow-people tricks -
the other form of spying.
if it wasn't a terrorist plot why mention the Somali heritage?
could just have said he was Norwegian...
so whatever campaigns there were to ease the stigma
surrounding mental health issues just backfired -
only to keep the ethnic divisions intact in the agglomerate
of social cohesion - to be honest, mental health isn't
even a medical concern... it's a political tool for
exploiting harsh scenarios - and this
medical schism is pretty much akin to
the Sunni v. Shia division in Islam - or the 1054
great schism; i have absolutely no idea why or how
it happened, or when... but this isn't a religious topic,
it's a medical schism, and i'm assuming the anglophone
world is primarily prone to it... as an outside i have
my unique perspective... this isn't religion... it's medicine
for crying out-loud!

are these psychologists and quasi and alter counterparts
prescribing medication like penny-sweets?!
because they ******* are! humanists that have no right
to prescribe medication, but merely talk...
oh wait... didn't i hear some cultural critic write that
words are nothing? so we communicating in ******* Braille then?
words are the primary data imprints we all need,
i'm not writing in a language to make it my own -
but there this massive schism in medicine at the moment,
somehow not reading philosophy in western society
never got to grips with Cartesian materialisation
of i think into i am - i can answer for that -
mental illnesses are subtler than a leg infested with
gangrene - but they're still physical ailments -
obviously not as rainbow as a gangrene, but there can't
be a schism, because too many amateurs and sadists will
exploit the schism... there's also the necessary claim
for thinking and being to reach the ergo equilibrium -
by unnecessarily treating a thinking pattern
that does not really deviate into stabbing someone
will only encourage all this proto Narcissistic crap...
and you'd think that polytheism died under the 21 grams
worth of certainty that the soul exists with monotheism...
that's the strength of Greek polytheism
(and Indian polytheism, i.e. it didn't adopt a monotheism),
meaning that it's philosophical background ensured
that the revision of Hebraic in its hands gained so much
popularity as Christianity - but Narcissus is a telescope
to introspect - i blame Narcissus for the medical schism
we're now experiencing - mental health and the imaginary
fifth limb.

this schism is the result of subduing religion -
at first it was a wise move, i admit that i wouldn't
want to be on the Inquisition rack -
but when violence was perpetrated on us
we held a stealth belief that it would end -
but after we internalised this violence
there seems to be no end; another schism
was bound to pop up somewhere, i'd never think
it would be in the medical category:
due to the failures of reading philosophy,
bypassing Kant, phenomenology and the existentialists
to simply write a profit-banking book:
philosophy for dummies (+ ****** et al.).
David Jul 2015
'be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a harsh battle'

David Wakeman, 20, thin, pale and dark haired. He has no particular style and doesn't look like he could really fit in with any group of people in particular, but at the same time, wouldn't look too suspicious with among a group. A constant look of desperation plagues his eyes. He looks as though his face would appear in the news in a few months for shooting up a school or blowing up a public building.

david is shown driving down a stretch of road, snow covered everywhere, crazy eyed

Some people are meant to be alone in this life, and I am one of those people. I no longer wish to pretend otherwise. I now know what has to be done.

The sounds of ******* haunt the hallways outside of the tacky, run down hostel where they both lay. She is lying on the edge of the bed.
The sheets are creased. There are cracks on the wall.
But for 3 euros a night, you can't complain.
She lies there, still; staring blankly at the ceiling. Her short robotic breaths are the only life seen.
He eagerly moves close to her, but for the life of him, cannot touch her. His unsure attempts at moving his arm over her are prevented by a sudden urge to break into tears.
Finally, his hand places itself over hers.
She is cold.
"Did anything change?" he says, afraid of the answer.
There is a pause. It might've been a few seconds or half an hour.
"No." Speaking so quietly, barely audible to him.
He is about to say something, but he catches the micro-expression that followed her reply.
A sigh.
He becomes impatient,
"Then kiss me." he blurts out, clumsily.
It sounded better in his head.
A deep exhale and an almost exaggerated look of contempt washes over her tired face. She puts her hand to her face, failing to cover up her outburst of honesty, pretending to clean out something from her spotless, green eyes.
She quickly moves her face closer to his, with her eyes closed, and she puckers her lips in such a way that suggests she'd rather be dead.
His eyes are open, and now he is the one who is lifeless.
"What?" She says, breaking the awkward seconds of silence.

Silent seconds are followed by silent minutes, and now they are sitting up on the head of the bed, watching the old, fat TV that hangs from the filthy wall. Something is  playing but he can't understand the language.
'Pedifilios' is the only word that seems familiar.
She is smoking another cigarette.
The faint sounds of her mouth blowing out the smoke, are telling him all he needs to know.
She loves her ******* cigarettes, he thinks to himself.
She grabs the worn out ashtray that sits on the side of the bed, and goes to put it out.
"Here, let me get that" he says, gentlemenly, and snatches her  it out of her hand, then puts it out into the back of his other hand.
The pain doesn't make him feel any more alive.
" There you go," the cigarrettes crumbles into ashes over his hand and he pushes the ashes into the ash tray, then looks at her.
Her expression is a weird mix of diisgust and fear.

Minutes turn back into seconds and the sound of her footsteps are the last thing he hears from her, just before the slamming of the door.

Chapter 2:

Two bloodshot eyes scan the aisles and shelves, looking for the gluten free bread. It wasn't in the bread aisle.
Who the hell buys gluten free bread?
He contemplates appraoching one of his coworkers and asking her if she knows, but she is far too pretty for him to talk to.
Besides, he's been here 4 weeks now and wants to make it seem like he actually has a clue about what he's doing.
Afterall, he had already convinced his then potential manager,Chris,  that being a 'personal shopper' was in fact his dream job, and that this very supermarket was his dream place to work.
He always was a good liar.
He's so good because for a little while he manages to convince himself.
'Working hard David?"
****.
with Chris you could never tell if he was ******* or beingplayful.
"Always!" David shouts back, then picking a random item off the shelf and placing it into the basket, then nodding at Chris with a look of false sincerity.

(David is shown sitting in the living room, the light emenating from the TV appears to hurt his eyes, and he is slumped back on the coach, clearly worn out. he is flicking through late night informercials, on the coffee table in front of him there are numerous energy drinks seen empty.)
Davids thoughts: The living room is where I come to when I cant sleep. It's more of a dying room, really.

(David continues to flick through channels before stopping for a second on a ****** phone-in show (like babestation). He flicks back through the channels again)

(The scene cuts to a few hours later, with daylight seeping through the curtains and David sat in essentially the same position except he has fallen asleep, with remote still in hand. It's time for work)

watch alarm rings.....

'You coming out with the lads on friday dave?
He always wondered why people tried to talk to him in the middle of the set.
He places the barbel down onto the rack.
'With who?'' He asks,
"Me, sam, jack, carl and"
"and?"
"and Bill. Yeah. bill"
David's face changes as if suddenly remembering something
"Oh, did you say friday? I cant make it. I'm doing a thing with..."
With?
"with the family"
His friend looks as if he was expecting this anwer,
"no worries lad."

"qeue sad music"
David sits in his room, and is looking for something.
Upon rummaging through his things he pulls out a drawing, it's of a girl, he looks at it and a short shot of the girl from the beginning of the movie is shown, then it cuts back to him, stressed looking, and he shove the drawing into a red travel case that sits under the bed, as though he can't stand to see it but at the same time doesn't want to get rid of it. The case still has its travel ticket on.
He pulls a notebook from under some wires in his drawer, and begins to write.

'poem read accompanied by scenes of davids life'
'poem is interrupted by a knock on the door.

-dave is approached by someone in the gym telling him he has a great body, and that people would pay to see it. looks into 'gay4pay' and ends up actually going on a site and doing a cam show before aborting the whole thing-

scene with mum sat with the missionairies 'mum we need to talk' mum seems uncaring and cold, later on they talk
'Whats the probem dave? do you need money'
'No mum, it's just that'
'if youre struggling for cash just tell me, you can always take out a loan and-'
'No. mum. its not about money'
'then what is it?'
As David began to speak, his vocal chords failed him. He was walking into a 20 year old wall that he just couldnt get over.
'It's just that..'
'Yes?'
'I'm not happy. Mum.'
'Oh, well we all feel that way sometimes son' brushing it off in her famous way.
'No, this is different. I'm really depressed. Well, it's'
Depression wasn't the right word, he thought. Depression was an overused and futile term, it had become synonymous with sadness, and this wasn't just sadness; he had felt sadness many times, and this certainly wasnt that.
'it's?' she says, interrupting his inner verbiage.
He looks at her, knowing full well that this entire conversation has meant nothing.
'Look Dave,' she starts again with her 'mother' act, 'if you think that youre responsible for the divorce, just know that it was always going to happen anyway. It was just a matter of oppurtunity.'
What the **** is she talking about?
'Your dad and I never really had a-'
'No,' he says, cutting her off before she has a chance to justify the divorce again.
He was sick of the endless reasons and justifications.
'It's not about that.'
'well, what else could it be about?'
Because the whole world revolves around her and her divorce.
'Nevermind, it's nothing, really.'
She smiles, happy she doesn't have to act like she cares anymore.
'We all feel like that sometimes, like you say.'

He was starting to think that maybe he needed to see a therapist. Until this point he had always been confident in his own abilkity to reflect, introspect, and deal with his own issues himself, and he had alwas been skeptical of people who st in chairs and tried to prescribe you things; but this was beginning to be too much for him to handle. He felt he needed to be eevalutated, that he was losing his grip of his own life.
scene with therapist, coldly looking at her papers, davids desperate face searches for answers in her countenance.
'Right, Mr. wakeman.'
Hope. There is hope.
'I have you down for a prescription of 50mg of lithium, 250mg of benzedrin every week. I'll see you back here on thursday and we'll discuess your', she stops to see his face totally destroyed
'to discuss your.. issues'
David walks home like the scene of travis walking to see betsy at the theatre, something in his face just says that he knows that this story isnt going to end well. and that terrible things are on the way.

'Drugs, drugs, drugs,' david writes, 'theres a drug for everything in this world. drugs to make you numb, drugs to make you dumb, and ones which make you love everyone and see leprochauns and jellyfish driving cars, though those are the illegal ones.'

'Dave ya sisters here!' says his mum.

Scene where dave meets his sister and has coversation, on her way out,
she pulls out a red napkin and holds it like they do in bull fights, david looks slightly confused and smiles, she says 'dont be the bull!'

scene cuts to dave watching a bull fight on tv, where the bull kills the humans. david laughs to himself as the bull chaes people away. he is eating peanut butter on its own. Daves mum walks in abruptly and he switches it off.

(divorce is mentioned and the fact that dave caused it is mentioned)

dave trries to approach a girl in his work but it i awkward aand he gets rejected the same way he he rejected going out with his friends 'im doing something witht he family'.

dave comes home and there are arguments or something, so he punches a collage of family photos.

scene cuts t dave in hospital being told the cast  will come off in  4 weeks.
scene where david is trying to do everyday things with one hand, accompanied by happy music, contrasting the despair of the scene.

(An exact copy of the earlier scene is shown where david is up late flicking through late night tv channels, except now he is using only one hand with the remote. David finds himself at the eroitc call in show again, but this time instead of changing the station, he notices the number written in big, pink letters, and the woman manning the phone is obviously not in a call. Davids vision darts from the tv to his mobile phone that sits on the coffee table, he doesnt hestitate too grab the phone. The look on his face shows he is somewhat bracing himself. David dials the number unusually fast, without having to look back at the screen. The phone is being connected)

pre recorded phone message: Hey there naughty boys, you've reached TEASEYTALK phone love station, the sauciest ******* line in thebusiness. Press 1 if you'd li-

(David presses a number without hearing the rest of the message, suggesting he has heard the options before. Davids eyes are fixated on the bored-looking woman on the screen, until she picks up the phone that shes been using as a mock-***** till now, and answers)

Woman on TV: Urite babe? How can I  be of service?

(She speaks in a strong mancunian accent, and provocatively looks into the camera and moves sensually. All the while David looks back, with an expression of almost disgust.)

Woman: Dont be shy love!

David: Sorry. I'm not really a people person

Woman: haha thats alright darling, feel free to just watch me if ya like

(she turns to her side, showing the front of her body to the camera, she rubs her hand over the thin lingerie covering her *****)

David: Do you not feel a bit weird knowing guys are waatching you like this.

Woman: it just turns me on more babycakes

(she maintains her playful act but appears just slightly agitated)

David: I think you're lying.

(again, she starts to rub her hand over her **** and tries to look playful, but is now clearly agitated)

David: I don't think you like this at all.I don't think you wanted this for yourself.

(she snaps quickly and becomes more aggressive in her act, trying to hide her obvious agitation)

woman: I ****** love it babe. If you could feel how wet i was right now I could prove it to ya

Men: do you have a boyfriend?

(she pauses for a second, shocked and unable to hide her uncomfortable feeling. She stalls and grabs a purple heart shaped pillow and changes position. She assumes another playful position but looks bothered in her eyes)

David: how does he feel about this?

(her movements now hault and she looks at the camera with a sad glare(

David: does he even know?

(she bows her head for a moment, before running her hand through her hair, and looking back at the camera with that playful smile again)

woman: do you have a girlfriend?

(she says smugly, making it appear as if she has said some provacative)

camera pans into davids face, his look of slight disgust has eased into one of sad reflection. for a split second, a scene of the girl from the beginning of the movie appears, the scene is light, contrasting the darkness of the room, then the shot of david continues

(davids long silence has create an awkward look from the woman on the TV, she has stopped the provacative movements and briefly gestures to someone off camera. the scene cuts back to david with the phone put down, then it cuts to a shot from the same angle, except its obviously daytime as the light is seeping trhough the curtains and davids watch alarm is ringing again, however unlike before he is wide awake)

Scene where david takes off shirt in the bathroom, revealing his arms, chest, etc, covered in cut marks like tiny cat scratches.

dave gets skinner throughout the movie, the gay4pay scene stops him from working out. contrast scene with self harm marks with the earlier scene he is more athletic and healthier  looking. pants fall off

this s were dave develops the bad thoughts about killing people and ridding the world of bad people. ' i always wanted to make the world a better place'

throughout the movie dave asks his mum if any package has come for him, and that he expects a package.

the underlying theme is waiting for things to come and being patient, and that you dont know whats around the corner. that you know life will  be better but you grow impatient, and its only when you forget about wanting things to change, that it does.

in the movie he either does **** people or he has fantasies about doing it but something stops him (a girl?)

before doing whhatever he feels he needs to, he has a ritualistic session of burning the contents of the travel case, including the travel ticket, a postcard from porto, some drawings, and a carboard cutout of a leopard.) he gives the travel case to a charity shop, a long with all the clothes he has worn in the story up to this final scene, where he is weaing guirella warfare type attire. he puts facepaint on(?) and dumps all his anti depressants

at the end of the movie, when he has forgotten about the package, i arrives, and he opens it, not showing its contents, the camera zooms into the words 'handle with care'
OR
he has done his deed and killed whoever (*******) and now his package has come and it says 'handle with care'. it either sits at the front door or is thrown into some postal van, the irony being i tis not handled with care.
Maunica Kolla Feb 2014
Flip through your darkest night
Find the glowing hope of light
Inspiration can come from the tiniest thing
Open up your heart and let your soul sing
Rivers drain through the rough terrain
Cross a gazillion mountains and planes
All of them are collected in the wide ocean
They stick along in an inimitable motion
Every morning the flock of birds fly
We lie in our beds with a culpable sigh
If nature doesn’t take a break
Why do we keep our life at stake?
As sand slips through your palm
How could you sit back and be so calm
Look at the world beneath your feet
Realize that your life is rather sweet
Complains pour into our grubby system
We refuse to see the colorful spectrum
Denial is always enjoyable
But acceptance is rather fatal
Kvothe Jun 2014
When did the measure of your worth become a brand?
Banded sneakers, streaking vibrance,
vibrating mobile nuzzled in hand.

These do not make you.

Backward cap, for a new era,
sagged pants, swagger stance
for this hoodlum hoody wearer.

These do not make him.

Gucci bags and other tags,
designer purse, cursing contraband,
fake names make her gag.

But these do not make her.

They say don't judge a book by it's cover,
so why a person by their assets?
if it were asserted by another...

Belongings do not a person make.

Kindness, courage, compassion, heart,
personality, wisdom,
even a love of art.

These a person make.

Take some time to introspect,
inspect the way you see yourself,
You'll be happier for it I expect.

You make the person.
Lonely time the silent partner my shroud of light untouched ?  Stone horse caravan in flight beckons to your claw , to sail the truth of force untold beyond the gaping maw .

The trees a mountainous mirage , the
well of life , the soldier’s strife .  Their patterns form a                            
vast collage , oming beckoning call of life .

Like the drips concentric circles they sing a
mighty tune , of the force that has survived the tide
to look upon the moon .  

A camel’s **** with head and trail the
universal drone .  We track across the sea of time
like unicorns we hone .  Only to become ourselves
as we forge into our home .

Tomorrow is only yesterday beyond the here
and now .  We all must strive within ourselves to
make the tortoise paw .  To stand beside the endless
river and be what we can be , until we finally
become what we all need to be .  Introspect the
bottomless key , to stand an island in the sea .

Pieces of jade in a sun bowl , the purpled
crystal queen .  The fragments of forever continue
with the dream .  Islands in the sun , speaking just
for fun , of what it is that out survives the truth
that hasn’t come .  

God bless the child that has it’s own , gladiator
that .
Aura roan's rainbow mare or nimbus nimiety's exorcism.
Kvothe May 2014
I want you to fall in love, with my mind.
They say that romance is dead.
Aesthetic adoration is too easy to find.
I will dig deeper, doting the components of your head.

I ask that you return the favour.
No need for laboratory lobotomies.
There need not be forced labour.
I wear my heart on my sleeve.

And my mind on my mandibles.
I speak it. Repeat it.
The source inches above my clavicle.
It is replete with ****.

But it has it's moments too.
Though it's subject matter is grey,
a lot rings true,
from this pinkish purée.

I want you to find the harmony,
with my spinal chord.
And say with absolute certainty:
We will never be bored.

The feelings, that from my brain stem,
will be fully frontal.
From my toes to my cerebellum,
I would be yours, in total.

I want to fall in love with your mind.
Invest me in your intellect.
It will take time.
But it's all temporal in introspect.
Rudra Pandya Sep 2018
Souls and fire
It’s time to introspect,
No one is ever perfect,
Yet when there is a desire to strive,
The fire in our souls remains alive.
We learn, we inspire, we create,
We fall, we fail, we negate,
Yet when there is a spark in our eyes,
The fire in our souls remain alive.
Loneliness and anxiety hit us hard,
Our hopes and dreams shatter to shards,
Yet when there is a will to thrive,
The fire in our souls remains alive.
Ever thought of those moments way back in time you regret,
Ever tried to rectify those grave mistakes?
Ever stopped by the road looked at those little hands,
Puzzled how God drew a different set of lines on their palms
Stretched out to you,
In hope for a coin or two..
Ever stopped to think that the problems we face and cry about,
Are nothing compared to the overwhelming magnitude of those who live hand to mouth.
Ever valued true love, been selfless and given some back?
Ever realized you’re wrong and made efforts to get back to the right track?
Ever wondered where you stand in a crowd of a zillion?
Where you think you’re good but proved just okay
By a hundred others who surpass your “excellence”,
Ever thought of how credits to your achievement are just not enough?
Ever realized to be recognized, to stand out is way beyond tough?
Ever considered working on it or settled on giving up?
Ever put some one else before your selfish needs?
Every wrong that you do, does it make your conscience bleed?
Go, get up and introspect,
It’s time your existence commands some respect.
Worship His Lordship,
Brace up timely solace,
Before you are befooled,
No syntax would serve,
When death comes to date.
Believe in boundless bliss beyond ….. 1

Oh Dear, desist from desires,
That govern mundane mandate.
Blessed are you, whatever deserved,
Of your actions, or inactions past,
Be content and devoted,
To your duty, serene and supreme
Believe in boundless bliss beyond ……2

Concealed by shiny silky skin,
Beauty is one of flesh n’ blood,
Glow or glamour is never forever,
Introspect and respect the truth,
Let not illusion overtake your wisdom.
Believe in boundless bliss beyond ……3

Eventual, life bubbles off,
Like a droplet on lotus leaf,
Conjured by complexion,    
Concluded by deadly disease.
Believe in boundless bliss beyond ……4

Kith n’ kin crowd around,
And enjoy the fun and frolic,
Of youth, of health n’ wealth.
As the age anchors in sickness,
No referee comes to your rescue.
Believe in boundless bliss beyond……5

Sprint is the spirit of life,
The Soul holds the body
The day the Soul skips away,
Even your wife walks astray  
Believe in boundless bliss beyond……6

Fun n’ play rein budding life,
Youngling passions linger fore,
Hoary age diminishes in distress,
None to come along, nothing to impress,
When the dusk dawns on you,
Too late to mediate and meditate.  
Believe in boundless bliss beyond…….7

After all, what are you!
Of whom are you?
Who your wife and children are?
Are the bonds you made binding?
What is your origin or horizon?  
Ponder over the divine marvel
Believe in boundless bliss beyond ……8
Sriman Aadi Shankaracharya of 8th century, a renowned sage and saint of Indian sub-continent is an avid exponent of Hindu divine philosophy that encompasses the tenets of all religions and beliefs world over. He postulated the realm of divine bliss over the dominant thought of materialism in his poem in Sanskrit viz., Bhaja Govindam. An earnest effort has been made in bringing out its sum and substance in modern poetic verse easy to read and appreciate the philosophy generally accepted by all communities at large.
Dee Sep 2014
Call me whatever you wish
As I creep in stealthily
Leave you sighing
Endlessly

Am I necessary?...Most certainly
Leave your soul restless
As you wonder
Ponderously

A coma, in the sentence of life
Reflect on events of past
Take a deep breath
Gradually

I could leave you much wizened
Introspect in me sanguinely
I am your very own
Solitude
Thoughts, musings

— The End —