Tuesday, October 11, 2016

Contrast-foul-Contrast-fuel Longing

I hope that someday, somebody wants to hold you for twenty minutes straight, and that’s all they do. They don’t pull away. They don’t look at your face. They don’t try to kiss you. All they do is wrap you up in their arms, without an ounce of selfishness in it.
Life isn’t meant to exist in a narrow color spectrum of perpetual happiness. That’s a movie. It’s not reality. Experience all your vivid, fiery, watery emotions. Give yourself permission to be full bodied. You’re peeling. Revealing. It’s a messy, magnificent process.
Sometimes the verbal communications from a complete stranger are so friendly, that you sink down sulking to an awe of desirous longing for knowing thee & sharing yourself to thee more. If that little conversation lasted pretty good, imagine how rest of it could. You rejoice to a strange yet pleasing appraisal of kind interaction, that made your day, and the more of it seldom makes you want to grasp and hug and kiss and never let it go, never let It end.
God created man and, finding him not sufficiently alone, gave him a companion to make him feel his solitude more keenly.
Agreed we all are strangers in a strange strange world until we start becoming friends and inmate thee. Far are the truths and the false attributes of a life, that often tie us down, and we slowly open, each layer peeled of resulting in a ruined or building up a strong impression that could last for eternity or die instant.
I think I fall in love a little bit with anyone who shows me their soul. This world is so guarded and fearful. I appreciate rawness so much.
Presumptions and expectations based on our judgmental core values lead us to somewhere or no where. We often kill it and try to flee away from what is not so desirous to thee and keep safe the desirous that belongs to our fetish forte. Tired to rinse and wash often thy stained, we start a fresh and the viciousness follows.
I despise the space that separates our skin whether it’s only the threads of our tshirts or the miles between our beds
Desire to mingle and talk more, sharing and caring gets more ascertained based on how the other person reacts to your over friendly gestures. Not often is the person on other side in parallel terms to your choicest of options and its different all together to a contrast foul or a contrast fuel (contrast full) of seldom conditional self centered agendas.
I may not have been sure about what really did interest me, but I was absolutely sure about what didn’t.
Crocodiles are easy. They try to kill and eat you. People are harder. Sometimes they pretend to be your friend first. People who need help sometimes look a lot like people who don’t need help.

How difficult is it to simply tell someone that you were fond of thee and in response all you get is why and how in reaction to thee statement delivered. Backing off is the only step left to save yourself from any humiliation thus caused, meanwhile hard to convince that the lonely soul might want to creep to a soul that mistook the fondness to be a misinterpreted and misguided approach, pretty much straight that was nothing more of an outrageous attempt to be straight forward and approach thee with love, failing to which, one dwells into ones shell once again with no trust to thee.
I hide because there’s more to me than what you see and I’m not sure you’d like the rest. I know that sometimes, I don’t like the rest.
Bend down rudeness of harsh realities make you live in a fake world of your own, and the world would never understand you , just because you tried so hard to reach out to thee, but thee never understood. Failing to the intellect that could mesmerize and settle it all even, the journey flings from one corner to other , from one soul to another, & the poor soul gets pissed off at the end. Grief stricken privacy longing to be invaded & assaulted.

There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed. - Anonymous

Thursday, October 6, 2016

I Wish

"Each time I’m asked to tell about myself, I find myself starting the same way: ‘My name is so and so and I’m of this age…’but what I’d really like to say is:'My name means island of the ships but once
I found a translation that said I’m a burning shipwreck-not a burning ship but a ship that has caught fire after the wreckage and well, I’d say that’s more fitting.

’I’ve learned that people don’t have time for about-me’s.They need two things: a name and an indication you’re someone special. The doctors, they want facts not details. 'I broke my leg when I was three, it’s a funny story actually-’ The right or the left? Conversation over. The teachers, they want interests, hobbies.You’re sad, yes, but what do you like to do? The adults are a spew of questions. What school do you go to? What classes are you taking? What do you plan on becoming? Got a boyfriend? No, stop.

People my own age are the worst. 'I’m planning on an English degree with a concentration in creative writing.’ Yeah, aren’t we all. So how many times have you, you know, done it? I’m pulled apart, my interests traveling highway 2 my goals at a stop light at traffic hour, my medical history on a billboard for the world to see. But what about me? Where’s the chance to say, 'I hang on to fistfuls of poetry like loose change in my pockets, and I keep waiting for the day that the world turns upside down so I can swim with the stars. I’m not afraid of darkness, it’s a loneliness I can empathize with. It’s the black holes like cigarette burns inside of me that get troublesome. I walk through graveyards and read the dashes between years, each a story I’ll never know. Sometimes I create my own.’ No wonder none of us know who we are anymore."

"I wish I had met you sooner. If you were mine when I was in my youth I never would’ve fallen for that boy in my chem class and cracked my head open on his chest. I couldn’t see straight for 3 weeks after that. And maybe if I had known you since I was a little one I never would’ve gotten sad enough to cut myself, a tick mark in my skin for each time my mother cried. And if we had met two summer’s ago I probably would’ve been asleep in your bed instead of in my big sister’s car when she crashed it and I could’ve twirled my fingers around your hair instead of pulling the strings out of hospital blankets. If we had met just a few months sooner I’d probably never know the taste of too many pills because my mouth would be too busy telling you that I love you.I know that people can’t save you, I’m just saying, I think that if we could go back in time, and kiss before the night the fire in my bedroom washed away the blood stains on my carpet, I wouldn’t know what it’s like to mean it when I say I want to die."

I feel bad for those who lost their inner child. The world needs more adults with young heart, a brave heart, one that's excited and enthusiastic about the wonders of our magnificent world. People who believe in miracles, who believe they can make them happen too. People who can stomach the horrors they witness everyday and give love even when they are never the recipients. People who are kind enough to forgive everyone around them and forgive themselves too when it's the hardest to do so. People who are crazy enough to want to make a difference, even crazier to work for it - Anonymous.

Mouse Infested Pied Piper

(चूहा)'Mice it is'.Yesterday this:poor little new born breathed heavy, still does.I can see his heart pumping. Can see him move too. Tiny little soul laid right next to thee foot bed floor of my home temple, submerged & stuck on to thy mustard oil.

Jumping trying to flee away out and over the raised boundary, while I sat cleaning, scrubbing the mustard oil on thee floor. I had to constantly watch him and pat n clap to let it not come any closer to me. After few minutes of him struggling, I made him a cardboard runway. He kept slipping unable to climb. While I was still in the process of thinking to convert the runway into a staircase, I watched him climb and take a para glide jump & flee.

Its been three days and this tiny lil one has been enjoying to and fro in this house temple of mine. I have been feeding him with tiny piece of cucumber. He seems to be happy about it. He follows me , as if he either could smell my odor, hear and see my footsteps when I am there, and follows me every inch I move. I have to careful not to step on thee. He happily climbed on my feet yesterday and I had to shook him away. The first thing I do when I enter is to put all the lights on and check his placement before I make any moves. I often find him strolling by with his raised head, while I am chanting my prayers, and ringing my bells. He has mistakenly presumed me to be his parent/guardian/caretaker, no offence to that. Everything and everyone in the world seeks for a company to be with else thy shall be a lonely soul. Whatever this relationship be for how little is beautiful and unconditionally accepted. I did not see him this evening. Wondering where thee wandered.

I guess all the petite little things surround me, in-sync , tuned to my big hollow brilliance in disguised overweight n heavy burdened piled nuances of life. This so called habitat-ed Hamlin is my world now. Hell or heaven thy be.

I am not sure if you could callme a "Mouse Infested Pied Piper" I seldom live in and overrun to an unwanted degree of a troublesome state of affairs now and then. Thank God there are no Sharks that infested the coastline. There ain't no coastline either. Else I would have been in deep trouble. Would be difficult to flee thee. No natter how numerous everything & anything undesirable or troublesome it might be or not. You see I am a soft hearten one, caring that infests the day & night. Getting harassed n harnessing thee, finding company - Anonynous