Poetry

Landmines

I walk on landmines,
That I lay in-front of me.
The deaths of dreams I see,
Have become common to me.

Why is it that darkness seems,
So soothing and not bleak?
As I imagine the demons,
Come to rip apart at me.

The lifeless desires I conjure,
Become almost a daily life routine.
Why must I live like this?
A prisoner within a shell of me.

Maybe death is what I desire.
A forsaken life is what I live.
Running away from the demons I create,
Always escaping reality to see ahead.

What is it I desire?
Why can’t I accept my fate?
I just want this to end.
This brokenness to let itself mend.

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A crippling weight I carry,
Along with me, wherever you see.
I don’t know how it came to me.
But now I can’t let it go,
And I can’t see.

Where do I go,
Where do I stay?
Why must this feeling of dread,
Eat at me everyday?

Why can’t someone see me?
Standing here, suffering.
Surrounded by a crowd but all eyes off me
Because suffering isn’t noticed,
Until the end of it’s story.

I’m standing here,
Ready to walk on landmines,
That I lay down in-front of me.
The deaths I see have become me.

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Poetry

Mind’s Solace

Perhaps in the edges of darkness,
A light exists that shines beyond,
But I’m here standing on the shore,
With the shadows of an unseen giant dawned.

I’m fireproof, but the cold within
Ate apart at my sanity,
Leaving behind a brittled reality.
And the shadows, they crawl up my skin.

For it seemed to be like eons,
Since the world around had life and colour.
A blank dust of grey, covers the surface.
With each passing day, the fervor within felt smaller.

Each stumble, pieces of me break and fall
And with every crumble, I crawl to my place.
But is it worth it to be in this race
Is it worth it, just for another rainfall?

The world keeps changing,
Uninterested of another’s plight.
People take lives for granted,
Unconsciously snuffing out their light.

Promises granted one after another
But how many do follow through
Maybe not a handful, but definitely only a few
And so we end up at the mercy of other

Maybe the pain will leave,
Maybe it will end up being smaller.
But the life I live, the reality my mind conceives,
Is but a disaster that fits like an iron collar.

Of the notions my mind creates,
It can’t help but ask, what have I done to deserve this fate.
O my whimsical impulses and desires,
Why have you brought me here, in front of closed gates.

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Featured Image Credits: Link

Erratic Scribbles

Silence

If you’ve influence, then you’ve power. We live in a world where anyone can change the things around them, even if a little, by just existing and contributing. A lot of us think of the future or the past, but few of us really care about what is happening as of right now. Not about our lives; but the life that surrounds us; and the power to change it. The buildings, insects, animals, fields of grass, everything that surrounds us. Chances are, if you’re reading this, you can change what surrounds you, even if a little bit, but you can do it. This ability to change things, is what is to an extent, is meant by the word ‘influence’, and yet, so few of us really use it to it’s fullest extent. Even I’m guilty of making the same mistake myself.

But what is it that we do with this power when we do use it? Their lies the bigger question. Life is uncanny and undistinguishable, but yet so familiar and something that feels normal. However, very few of us have reasons to believe that we can change our surroundings, as much as perhaps the richest person of the planet, yet that’s not entirely true. Yes, the rich hold more power; not because they’ve money, but because people listen to them. People also listen to the passionate, the musicians, the artists, the scientists, and the world. More than anything, people believe the world. What the world echos, is the norm and there’s no reason to think outside the norm, because…? I can’t find an answer to this question, because I’ve never come across one. I’ve always been told that somethings are “impossible” and yet the more I think about it, they’re not. Not entirely. Humanity has at many times showed nature creative solutions to the problems it poses us, yet individually, we are all broken, unbelieving in ourselves. And more importantly, unbelieving in our power. The power to change the world around us to whatever extent we can. And collectively, there has been no bigger power in the known universe.

I share a lot of things in the social media platforms I’m in. I’ve always had the thought that if I can change, even one person’s mind, with facts and evidence, then I’ve made the world a little better place. And in the same nature, I’ve always hounded for just the unknown, to know as many things as I can. It’s no wonder then that I grew a lust to change the world, even if by a little, but everyday none the less. Growing up, I never believed I could’ve achieved anything, regardless of how I hard I tried. Not because I didn’t try, I did give it my all whenever I could, but I couldn’t at most times; and I didn’t know why. I’ve always thought of myself as a little more aware of the world than most people, but there was this weight on my mind that somehow held me back; I blamed it on myself. I was just being lazy. In 2015, I got diagnosed with ADHD. Things made much more sense, but I was still lazy. The lazy part didn’t change.

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I believe I could’ve done a lot more when I was young, the problem wasn’t that I wasn’t aware of ADHD, it was that I blamed myself for who I was. And to an extent, that part of me never left. But in 2015, another thing happened. I pitied myself for the first time for having a mental illness. Just 5 mins later, I thought that was just fucking stupid. Was it the last straw that I had in life? Probably not. I’ve had too many incidents that I can remember that made me go through hell. This incident wasn’t anywhere close to the things I remember. But it was stupid enough to make me think about what is it that I had the power over, if not over myself, to do the things I love; and if not the world around me, then what?

I had always believed that one person was all it took to change the world, and I always wanted to be that person. We all do really. But so few of us realize that we can change the world, a little bit, with all our actions and decisions. I realized, what held me back was my definition of myself, rather than my characteristics.

So many of us in this place, could do good, but so few of us try thinking that our efforts aren’t worth it. From littering to just not bothering, and being silent; all of us are guilty of not trying in one way or another, even me. I live in a country where seeing a beggar is a common sight, seeing a sleeping kid with tattered clothes in a train station with a dog, is a common sight. It’s become common, to the point that I don’t care; not because I don’t want to, but because I don’t believe that I can change their life even a little bit. But so many have already proved us wrong on that part. Even people who perhaps, started with less power than what we have with us right now.

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Our decisions, to change the world around us, give us more power. But what comes with that power, is not responsibility, but whatever we define it to be. And however we define ourselves, gives us the power that is required of us to change ourselves. Some believe the power comes to them because they’re better than others, others believe power comes to those who are worthy of it, by perhaps birth or their status in society. But no one can come after you, not when you’ve power. Power recedes responsibility. It gives us the ability to jump over the fence. Yet, the strongest of us choose to stay and pick up the responsibilities of our choosing, not because we are required to, but because we believe we need to.

We all have the influence to change things around us really. And we all have power. Some have it more than others, but we all have it none the less. What we do with that power, again, lie upon ourselves. How we grow ourselves, with the decisions we make, and sculpt the world around us. It all rests on us. And all of us can do it, yet so few of us believe we can.

Perhaps the biggest bane of humanity is that it doesn’t believe in itself and it’s ability to change what surrounds it. What surrounds an individual.

We all have influence. And we all have the power to change the lives that surround us, along with the life that is inside us. It however, falls on us to realize that and work upon it. The journey we take in this world, and the things we influence while walking towards our death are perhaps the most profound stories of art that the universe can create. We should not let it go to waste. Not because people expect more from us, but because we should expect more of our own selves.

 

Poetry

Unrelenting

Perhaps the words I want to say,
Will never leave me in a way
As dust and fog cloud my world
You stand there standing, underestimating

A broken mess of a soul
Is what I’ve become
A foul soul livid with rage n sorrow
A fragile self with no yearn for tomorrow

For the cliched life in me
You were the world to me
Dreams that won’t be fulfilled
But grow inside, waiting, mocking, baiting

Perhaps the answers I seek,
Will never lend themselves to me
As rain and lightning breaks my self,
You stand there, not understanding

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A pleasure for the soul
Now breaks inch by inch
A pickaxe slowly cutting astray
Of self that I had hidden away

Hatred n sorrow is all I feel,
As an embodiment of lies fester and grow
Why have I not realized it yet
That perhaps I am that,
That perhaps I am sorrow.

What is it that takes to connect,
To another in ways that one can’t comprehend
Why is it that words are too less
To describe what my self had felt

I wish for nothing but the desires I have
It’s perhaps selfish but i know
And I stand here, still standing
As you walk away, leaving.

As I stare,
As I desire.
As I watch my dreams with leer.
As I still stand here, unrelenting.

Continue reading “Unrelenting”

Poetry

Rebuilt With Fire

Why is it that I can’t move,
Nor can I stay in one place.
It’s like life has forgiven me,
And yet has strangled me.

The ambitions, dreams, motivations,
They matter little to me.
Unlike before;
They no longer drive me

Poetry feels like penance
For crimes never committed.
Unless unfulfilled dreams,
Were crimes for me to see.

It’s as if light has averted me;
Dwelling in darkness is all I see.
For little has perhaps changed,
Discounting the hope that has forgone me.

Like a broken glass vase,
Rebuilt with the ire of fire.
What has life become for me.
What has life become of me.

Erratic Scribbles

Determination.

He was a fundamentally broken person. Nothing seemed to faze him. Not the darkness the world had or the passing beauty it seemed to posses.

He seemed like a tree, still and flowing with the wind. But yet, unlike a tree, he seemed to not embrace what was around him. He didn’t even reject it. He just stood still, right there, within all the chaos that surrounded him, unfazed and undeterred, continuing his existence like a symbol of an empty canvas.

As his shell stood there, his soul un-captivated, drifted asunder around him with the wind. With songs, wild emotions, darkness and light, it mixed in the air around him, creating an aura of awe that never really quite fell on the perspective of those around him. A silent scream lit up the world that he lived in, the void around him engulf with black fire, killing everything his vision laid eyes upon. Yet, in the real world, no one noticed him.

He stopped leaning towards the wall and lifted himself up. “Proper posture” he said as he put the cigarette within his lips, a habit more than an addiction. Unconcerned with the consequences of what lay ahead, he moved on, a mountain dragging behind him. Amidst the crowd he walked, with flames rife around him, burning, eating whatever the world had to offer. Chains clanked as he put on his headphones, oblivious to him, he dragged his feet with the mountain that followed him. “Dig down”, he repeated to himself, as the music started and the lyrics were spoken.

 

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His goal, seemed alien. Not the will to survive, not greed, not ambition, not greatness. He sought change. The void in his eyes seemed to give him life, the same life it seemed to take away. The eerie semblance to the darkness he had inside of him gave way to a vision of the future. Not that of prediction, but that of the ability to change what he saw.

And so he dragged on forward, amidst the crowd, willingly within the chaos of the world, unmoved, unfaltered, and uninterested.

Erratic Scribbles

The Daily Social Intercourse

Don’t we all wish to be the dark mysterious stranger and to perhaps one day, be awed at rather than the one doing the act. It is, perhaps these selfish desires, simple things in life, of wanting to be wearing another’s shoes, that help us mistake a human for a mythical being.

There’s little effort for some people when it comes to communication, but for others it can be a nightmare. The life of a mysterious stranger might as well be hell for the simple reason that he doesn’t know how to talk, to conduct basic communication, which is perhaps why he’s so mysterious.

The daily work a person puts into connecting with another person verbally or otherwise, is generally unaccounted for. For some, it can be hard to even comprehend, while for others, it comes as naturally as leaves to a tree. But poets who can’t rhyme, deserve no qualms in this world. And that is perhaps where, the ones who do know the truth of the world, go wrong.

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Source: pinterest.com/pin/288230444875929894

People, more than anything else, are what shape us to be who we are. And later, to become who we have to be. Depending on the situation, a person’s tone is enough to send a shiver down someone’s spine. Depending on where your thoughts wander, that is either good or bad, from your perspective. Words shape us to be who we are, some take it unto themselves to be a reflection of who they are on someone else’s mirror; while others reel in their desires to be invisible in the world. The few that run after balance, lose their path and fall in the chasm of disappointment, for there is no middle. Only mistakes and more mistakes.

And yet, even with it’s significant importance in our lives, so little is said about the daily social intercourse we have with each other through words, poetry, literature, music and other things of wonder.

It is perhaps, because of it’s negligence, that we go on to admire people who live life unfiltered, arrogant and overconfident. Growing up, the simple act of talking was painful to bear for the mysterious stranger. Not because he didn’t want to but because of the thought that no one understood him haunted his ever living self. From his perspective, the daily social intercourse between people, was no less than mesmerizing. From his observation, life was but beautifully weaving lives together in ways that he couldn’t comprehend. By his observation, he was but a pawn in the game of life. By others’ observations, he was but the main figure; idolized and transcended, and misunderstood.

Erratic Scribbles

A rambling of storms. 

The rain drops kept coming and going and yet the storm never stopped. It was strange to see a storm of dust soon get replaced with one of water and then of cool breeze. A blink of an eye is all you needed to miss the transitions that came in waves. Life seemed to be a similar metaphor, a relentless storm ever changing its shape. Uncaring and unfair.

Some days seem all too familiar. A gentle touch of the cold breeze is all you need to reminiscent. The days when long walks didn’t seem as dreadful or when life still seemed like a child’s sandbox, with its intricate ability to create dreams and foster them.

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Source: pinterest.com/pin/556476097688645951/

It’s been a while since those days. But it still feels as if life started this morning when I woke up. As the clock tick tocks, life moves ahead slowly despite our unwillingness. The different faces crowd the streets in the morning only for them to fade away at night. From our perspective, it’s unnatural. And yet, we play along. Like a theater drama where everyone knows that they’re in it and yet, blissfully unaware infront of the audience, the people they care about. –  In theater,  blissful ignorance is a skill; in life however, the same can be called out to be a terrible flaw.

What’s the point of all this I wonder, if there even is one to begin with. Maybe if life was as clear about itself as it is with everything it presents us with, maybe it wouldn’t be as novel to be alive. Maybe the curiosity of the answer along with the inability to achieve it is what keeps us going. Maybe it’s a different reason each time. Maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe sometimes life, just like the rain storm with little water, is just meant to be enjoyed at leisure.

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Source: pinterest.com/pin/160440805445732769

Even if expectations never seem to get met, maybe it’s good to appreciate the breeze than it not being there in the first place. If storms should teach us anything in life, it’s that maybe in life, not everything is meant to be controlled. And every opportunity can be that of good or bad depending on what we decide to do with it, and how we see it.

Erratic Scribbles

Survival

Changing. Adapting. Unlearning old things.

In a world where survival of the fittest is a very real thing, ‘fittest’ for the average human being in the modern day world, only till a certain extent, meant the shell that embraced his being.

Survival for us, it seems, was based a lot more on the ability to adapt to situations, change when the need requires you to and erasing certain parts of your past, in order to move ahead. It’s like cleaning wounds, it’ll always hurt but sometimes, the pain we feel now is necessary so that we won’t grow up broken with a disease that just grows with us and breaks us even further.

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Credit for above art: Pinterest.com

But sometimes, analogies don’t do some situations any justice. Sometimes, it’s up-to us to see certain things for the individual uniqueness they might be. Sometimes, the change we have to endure is more than just a simple painful process, maybe even a psychological one. Sometimes, the ability to adapt, means that you’ve to sacrifice a lot more than you gain, because situations demand so. Sometimes, unlearning things mean forgetting the past that you held so dearly till only a few months ago, and in a way, letting go of who you were till then.

We’ve all grown up with mistakes and learnt our best lessons from failure, yet we make an environment where failure is the last straw. What are so we afraid of today really, if not of the failure to be what we are?

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Credit for above art + featured cover art: Picolo-kun

We live in a world of paradoxes. Like pandora’s box, we search for a truth where there exists none. We stare at reality with our perspective lenses, willing to believe that there’s a validation in the world which will tell us what the right thing to do is. We have grown up in a world where we’re afraid to make our own road if there exists none, and in a way, have lost ourselves in someone else’s path and in someone else’s search for the truth they believe in.

But why is it that we’re never given a chance to stay. Stop. And just stare.