Tuesday, December 4, 2012

This post is about irony.

In the darkness of meadows,
and in the heat of sun,
In the frosts of a candle,
and in the blues of the shun

In the dusk of the eyes
and in the glow of the dawn
In the sadness of a smile
and in the love of the blown

Uprooted like the grass
feeling of the balded earth
in the rusted brass
in the broken hearth
in torn out trees
dismal and grey sky
wet and cold breeze
twisted wry
and lost stories
a fear prevails
a fear in the deep
proving that I am weak
gazing through my soul
into the deep
leaving, I am leaving
something behind
yet, I am looking for a sign.


Everyone looks sad, when i am.

-knightesS

Wednesday, October 17, 2012

Dilemma

Knowing everything is a bad sign. I laugh mentally on stupid talks people have when they sit on coffee-tables or at tea-times.

I tend to analyse them as of usual sort, this is the human vicinity I always have, everywhere. I thrive on the idea that is more abstract and of little worldliness, and I can't decide if it is wrong.

I always miss Steadiness of thoughts(between the lines, I avoided the feeling of, if i should write 'steadiness and thoughts').
I rush, rush, rush rush rush rush to the end, sudden and immediate wonderfulness something can bring into my life. Everything real or abstract, wandering in my mind, fumes away. It puts me in a dilemma.

Am I lost or am I keen? I am not.
  

Saturday, August 25, 2012

The distinction!

Sometimes I might think about world, more specifically my part of the world. From the very moment when I opened my dry eyes to see the (wet) world, I must have been traumatized or may be surprised. Yeah! my part of the world was always new, brand new, and therefore I was inexperienced and glowing with curiosity, and even yet today its the same. For they are yet to realize that everything is as new as a new moment of time, I am at some other level of thinking. I know I will never get bored of the things around me, there is lot more to know 'on my own', besides my obtained habit of making prejudices.





Even thoughts are never the same, they vary with the passage of time. Now when I put a full stop to the previous line, my thoughts are still lingering (no full stop for them), I now have a question, 'what is time', and more questions like 'is it just a day after night or a night after day', 'how is it passing' , 'is it going to end' for every part of the world or only for few (because I know it will end for me some day, like it began), 'who would know that time has stopped', 'would they have any knowledge of time', these questions might have been repeated in the past, but this present is new combination of time and person and mind, then conclusively its never the same.  

Sunday, July 22, 2012

Err of Living

Nothing unusual about this life, comparatively yes and relatively no. I was pondering much over what am I living here, and something that gave me chills is lost...here most of the times I have to lay my ego, respect and morals aside while talking to people..the only reason being I want to be the better person if there is a comparison. It is the same way it was, before I was introduced to it..the err of living. Thought through everything, and I know nobody gives a damn to anyone or anything, even if people like something they don't actually like it, they merely pretend to like a limited number of things that there are and others find interesting..to mention, these "others" are the real people I give a damn to, who have minds and fortunately can use it. Before I move further on this line, it needs to pass a test, a secret test that you'll read in the next post. Till then all you gotta do is get over this hangover.

Adieu!

Tuesday, May 1, 2012

begging in present; dreaming for future

Mostly I encounter people belonging to opposite ends, but most of the mostly..this title-kind. They are the mediocre, never been able to achieve a thing in life, if you ask them they had been progressive..since, even they don't know when. They have never enjoyed a moment in their life, they've never seen themselves as better, they might just hope for it. Just ask them for advice, they'll give you a lot. Be aware, you can hardly convince them, they are quarrelsome types, bickering over parking places, loud music, government's bad policies, increasing costs, nuisances of the neighborhood, glitches of their childhood, they will tell you what they have learnt so far and make you understand that they are on the right track, self-sufficient, but again beware. Beware of the fact that you are not convinced by their talks, they'll indulge you, make you worry, make you someone of their own kind, they have no vision, just wandering in the dark.
You've got to be yourself. They, as they are, are dangerous. And they will lie about it too, to you and to themselves. 

Friday, April 27, 2012

This Post Is only about rush and madness!!

There is a rush, don't ask me how and why!
It is there, where I am
and books,
words,
mountains,
visible vast blue or purple or yellow or colorless sky,
broad and narrow streets of a faraway land,
breeze from the sea,
touch of first drop of shower,
a cliff near the sunset,
green leaves or withered,
lightening and wind simultaneous,
plum tomatoes and red peaches,
clean and tangled long roads,
tall trees, an uphill hut,
a pond full of birdies,
empty nests,
shafts of log in the barn,
an undone tree house,
a brown and woody garland,
a temple's peak,
a vulture's beak,
 tides drowning the sand,
rocks climbing the hand,
those eyes looking into me and reflecting back something,
red steady light on the tracks of a train in the night,
a dusty coat,
a fir glove,
fire near the face and gown sewed with lace,
curtains made of satin,
a stranger speaking Latin,
just a night rush or a rush night,
blowing whistle in heat of the stadium,
flowing river in cup like formation,
all that eyes see and relate to,
there is a rush, not just human,
I am much more.
I am mad. 

pret-end-e

Hi, before anyone reads it, it is important for u to know that "this" I wrote an year back, I'm almost evolving everyday, and this I realised only after reading this piece of my mind. I was wondrous and so shall be.

the day,
i don't know, i don't wanna blabber much but sometimes it just happens..i couldn't keep all inside. I should increase the reservoir in my head. Things are simpler than they seem, i sometimes happen to write just the opposite  of whats going on in my brain cells..I'm just too adamant to hear the truth. I'm adamant to not understand the real me. I'm selfish and stubborn.Totally unlike-able. Forget it, won't you? Altering things do alter my senses. I find myself 100% agreeable at times but indeed I'm not..everything is just so goddamn short-term with me except for the sorrow that i always opt for. Yes, i don't want to share this bullshit, but may be you find something likely in this fucking dog shitted mind of me. This is the way I'm. Don't think much. Read and forget.


a day later,
I feel a heavy burden on my shoulders sometimes like to rescue everyone from pain, as if i cause the pain. Yesterday, and day before i was so engrossed in listening to the song BURDEN by band opeth, epic it is. It got over me, i felt totally inside my inner self. My friend tells me to not to know what i feel  but i have yet another configuration of my thoughts when i know what i feel, it feels like deficient of something when you can't make out what you feel. Numb and nonplussed you feel in. But yet another fact that i can not deny is, when you speak or write or tell somebody..you are hollow inside, totally shallow..which is not acceptable by your spirit. I often ask myself, am i attracted to sorrow or it is equally in me like happy-happy side of me? I'm so confused about my existence..i do not exist only inside my body but in some thoughts, in various talks or may be few of the brain cells of a few people.


further,
I almost forgot, i love these winters. Albert Camus says we realize the warmth in us, when there is cold breeze passing by. I get easily influenced, but i'm not playing a blame game here. I like it.


further more,
I'm almost clinging to poetry, its tasteless as usual. At least have something to tell, past is a database, huh? Its 10 centimeters from a lie. Reading terminologies of poetry, indeed I'm an amateur. I love it, I'm adamant.

Sunday, April 8, 2012

A Little Word Play

Do one thing good to yourself today. Pick up a pen(the best one you have) and a thick A4 size paper and write, write a letter to one year older you. Pick up all the bad things happening to you right now(I hope everyone is good at it), and pour on that piece of paper.Put it in a pretty envelope and keep it, near. There! your work is all done.


Based on the assumption that you've done what is written here, I can guarantee one delightful moment of laughter in the coming year to you. Don't distress yourself that I have assumed it and then guaranteed it, please don't. Just write it, writer. 

Tuesday, March 27, 2012

Reconsiderations

So, I'm at this point of myself, where everything brought up carelessly and bored meaninglessly has to be catechized. No, this isn't a thesis, this is bloody real, made of flesh and bones and nerves; dying and waking cells every second in my body do not tell you that I'm a new person, they are merely natural in every way, in God's way. Most of my body chemistry doesn't linger for more than a fraction of a second, and is therefore turbulent in every deed, my thoughts, my science is not factual anymore, they are abstract; bizarre as I see them from within. At this point of time, I'm reconsidering what I have and what I want. Having spent hours on thinking of way of escaping the mean world, now I see nothing but a black hole dragging me in, and you should be exactly aware of the meaning of a drag(against wish and wisdom). Ambiguous? Isn't it? It must be. I can't escape, a little hope engrosses me, a little madness left in me, a little. I'm on a path most traveled by unlike Frost, and this very thought eats my meaning of being. Giddiness to lose what I have earned (disguised form of borrowed), I'm reconsidering it.