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.

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.