Micro Universe

If all could be said with a word wouldn't it be easy, if it wasn't felt the way or touched the way it should be then what will ever reveal the secret to it that it holds. Words are an ocean but what if not a single drop picked from this vastness satisfies what it desires. What will ever touch this beauty that it holds or tell the tales of what was discovered. If wandering the deserts and a floating the seas takes you to something this unbreakable then you think, why was it guarded by all these beautiful traps. I saw it, but kept it with me, i felt it but saved the memory of it in a block i won't even remember.

Light Years Ago

My memory is my cage I rot in, this is the only life I know of, the only remedy of this existence of mine. I burn within my own created flames but I like being here, thats the only world i've ever known. i belong here, this is me. If only i could, i would burn everything that touches me physically or emotionally. if only i could i would've shown my wrath. I'm not a sadist, this is my program, this is how my wiring connects. self captivating thoughts of dying over and over again yet not to miss a single breath i take in this oblivion. I acquired freedom when i have caged myself. this void i walk through is my jurisdiction, this is my world and you have to set ablaze your wings if you cross it. here birds walk the ragged and rough land twisting and turning like a snake on sand. this is the world of insanity, no sane is allowed here or he will guide this flame into his world. its a poison that will attach itself to you and burn you feather by feather.

welcome anyway, i don't deny your stay with me, i know you won't stay long. you wont like the stream of water here, the blazing sky and ember red eyes of my imagination. i create here, I'm the architect, the painter, the mason and the citizen. i make all this for you, see if you like it, roam around it seems much like hell, the only difference is that hell is for the punished. this is for the illuminated, lost and discoverers. try to touch things around, they will not burn, its the way i painted them. i need people who can touch, not only see, who can then feel not only touch. I don't admire straight paths, they haunt my imaginations, they seem endless. i don't like light, it leaves nothing for the imagination. feast with me on your imagination. the world is a damned place with alot of damned souls roaming around it, though mine seemed damned, but it's dark because it knows alot. the room for light is lost somewhere in these paths but i will find it someday, i myself had no map while i was making them, so i myself am lost inside here, i find something new everyday every moment. isn't this enough to stay here for eternity? this darkness has alot of light i wonder how that lightened room would look like, i can tell the room by looking at it, it would have light coming from underneath the door. bright light, but i would be afraid thinking it might depart me from this world into another parallel universe. somewhere i don't know of. but all i am is an architect, i will make my way out from it, i will paint it again, turn it into my world. what if i already have passed that door. years ago i remember opening such a door with light from underneath it. it had a straight path i turned it and gave it corners, had a lightened sky which i set ablaze, it slowly got dark in there, slowly got deeper and deeper. wait, how long have i been writing about it? oh well, i forgot to tell you, i am in that very room, that enlightened room. ages of my labor, this is what it looks like now. It seemed so ugly that way, so in order and so tidy. so fake. but this small piece of memory still remains in my head, this room had another door in it just like that, i search for that door, and i hope i would find it so that i could leave that one the way it was and shift existance.

Just when I Thought it was Over

I'm not someone whom you will remember your whole life,
Neither do I tend to live in a nailed metal box of mementos,
I'm not someone who will haunt you in your dreams,
Not someone who favors your cold and withered screams,
I'm the one waiting on the slippery edge of your life,
Neither would I kill the queen nor try to burn this hive,
I'm the one who's angels make no sense at all,
No, I'm not the one for whom flames from hell fall,
I do hold a little dream with me and it's old now,
I walk the earth waiting for that land mine to step on,
But it seems someone walked it before me so I'm a little bold now,
My endurance to this illusion is at its' last breaths,
I walk towards this slumber from the grip of shadowy thoughts,
I've seen the world change from stone to metal,
Containers made full but the content still remains in the kettle,
I've seen love getting expensive and war cheap,
I've seen people walk like lions but they are all but sheep,
I've imagined a world free of hate and tyranny,
Where people know love and knows not of pain and agony,
It was a plunge taken too deep into the world of an unknown,
This was a world to be only spoken of but never shown,
I know you too dream of such a place so join in my freind,
You and I in our little nailed metal boxes have a lot to amend,
This window in my room has a lot of stories it tell,
Some are fairy tales while others straight from hell,
I've been to a room without a floor in it,
Deep down inside with all the hellraisers was a little door in it,
No one dared step inside the door but i did,
Knew after ages inside, it was made for me and only I could fit.

Hurt

Because this hurt has gone too far,
Buried me too deep down inside,
I can't forgive you but I can't own you now,
So it's too late to even try and say sorry,
There's nothing to prove or be proven for,
So go home, it's late and I'm a stranger now,
The ship we were on is in danger now,
Call me heartless or whatever,
Because this hurt has gone too far now,
Trust me when I say I can't love you now,
Trust me because it's the only way,
We weaved too many dreams together,
It's time we wake up from this slumber,
Don't come crying it won't touch me anymore,
I forgive you for all you care,
To love another like you i would not dare,
I guess this was enough for now,
I guess i'll be fine don't worry about me,
I'm too big for this to swallow me you see,
So try again some other day,
You won't see me walking the same road, the same way,
I swallowed a lot of your poison,
Thought it was the fountain of youth,
I was wrong for all I know,
I have nothing left for you to show,
So go home it's late and I'm a stranger,
Now I'm a realist, I'm a danger,
I was the dream maker,
But now I'm just a terrible nightmare,
I'll see you there,
I'll see you soon.

Thought it would be Pleasant

It rains while I sit and write,

It rains while I'm lost in this night,

It rains while God decides what's wrong and right,

It rains while all the birds abandon their flight,

It rains while all she wants to do is fight.

Let it rain and let the wind blow,

Let it rain so that I can sow,

Let it rain on the fields of sorrow,

Let it rain like there's no tomorrow,

Let it rain I have no happiness left to borrow.

It rained but I felt the pain,

It rained but all was in vain,

It rained on someone insane,

It rained but I had no gain,

It rained and it will rain again.

Busy Bees

So when all of it is gone, will I still live on? I guess I will, i'm addicted to a lot of things some good most bad. like now i'm addicted to write a blog every now and then. it's pretty strange how we tangle ourselves with something in our short little lives and keep doing them over and over again, we know its going to be the same as before yet we do it. and hell, why not. afterall this whole thing is about repetitions isn't it? day in day out, its the same routine. I wake up, light a cigarette, play some music and keep laying there staring at the ceiling or outside the window, I usually wake up something like 45mins before the alarm in my cell starts beeping. i turn it off and continue with staring outside my room. i can see the sky, hear the birds chirp, the tall trees and a few buildings far away. the sunlight doesn't break into my room, it rises on the other side of my window. i think and rethink of my strategy for the day, what will i do today, what should i do that would satisfy me that yes, the day was passed good. i think i'm going to paint, no write, no no today i go out - or ummm maybe study? this last thought makes me change my side and rethink the whole strategy. course books has always been a problem for me, it's not like i don't want to study but yes, i don't want to.

Usually i used to wake up and while listening to music, i used to turn the facebook in my cell on and start scrolling it up and down, leave a few comments or maybe like something but recently i've deleted the app, and this has done me wonders, saved a lot of my already slipping away time. now instead of using the facebook, i have installed another app called the daily mail. now that is a useful app, informative. anyway, talking about my daily repetitions; so i get up and get going, i know how it goes, its just like a broken record on a play. i go to university, come back, sleep, wake up, go out with friends, come home, study a little maybe, then sleep and i wake up again half hour before my alarm goes on.

It's just like a huge repeat that i'm on. everyday i think of doing something new but i wind up doing the same old things again, nothing new, nothing different. and i think to myself how will i get rid of it all? at times it gets so so entangled, so chained to itself. i'm usually not doing what i want to do. huh, the attendance will shorten up, i'll drop out, i'll miss something special in the class, bullshit. do i do what i want to do? no, it's been a while and NO i don't. well, i guess that's what life's all about, some say. well i ask you - is it? a broken record?? how often do we do what we want to? so we adjust, we tune to what we can do and what we can't. it's not a wish not achieved, they say you'll get your life once done with university. HA! will i?? no i'll be even more busy than ever. this is a trap, growing up is a trap, this everything is programming done by everyone around me, they fix you for it, make you ready, and when you're past one obstacle they had trained you enough for another i mean c'moooooooooooooooooooonnnnn when does this end? it's not just about running for money! i mean fuck this shit, this is a lie and i really don't want to be a part of it, running and running. for how long? how far? study, get a job, get married, get kids, and then DIE! what!!?? sorry, i didn't get you, you said it's going to be over soon, oh you meant this?? tsk, no. it's being a sheep. they are also kept in a controlled environment, they are fed properly, taken out to roam around, then slaughtered when the time is right. so you want me to just roll over on all of this?

i dont know what else to say, but it's pretty much lame, i'm not a loner or sick of life, i just define it a bit different than what our own society teach us, it's like being the slave of the system, you work for it just enough so that you can be dumb and idiotic, think outside your given bubble and you will be slaughtered. well, one day and that day might never even come, sadly. i've give way to what i want to do. i dont know why am i even writing this down, maybe so further i move and look upon my desires that are left only in here and that would be the end of them. or maybe i can look back and say, no i was wrong, i AM a sheep and i SHOULD BE this way. i dont know why am i recording all this but one thing is for sure and i'll make sure i don't follow the pattern described above. it has became the new life cycle of man. and in a society like ours, this is being preached like the holy book. its all programmed, i mean since when did humans had defined life cycle? we have a huge capacity for God's sake, how did we got synced to all of this? i mean non of it is bad, education, getting married and having kids is not bad but seriously!!??? thats all bs? and a good JOB means being payed for yes sir no sir this n that sir. by the time people start calling you sir, oh well, they'll call you that in that age anyway so no job needed for that sir thing!

I'll go wild, run away, disappear, live like i want to. i walk from university to home when the weather is merciful and on my way walking back i realize that i miss a lot of things while coming back home on a bus. i come through a lot of things that needs notice. just that day i was walking and i saw a trail of ants beneath, a lot were dead because people as busy as they are stepped over them, so i was thinking who is going to ask about this massacre other than God? who is even going to care? they had a cycle too, just like us, they were maybe gathering food and taking it back, and look at them now, they were dozens of them just stepped over by humans. the educated and brain blessed humans, a bunch of assholes if you ask me. what now we even don't understand what life is? are you really that programmed? that fucked in the head? i sat there for a while, staring at them, thinking what would be going in their little cycles before they were killed, looked at them for a while. then i kept moving on, there was a wall on my side and it was having so much dust over it that it could tell it wasn't touched after the masons who made it. i touched that wall while walking alongside it, it was promising, it said things to me like "I'll be here to protect you while you don't even think of me, as if i dont even exist but your touch is going to tear my eyes". yes it was a wall nothing else but yet, do we care? do we care if it was a wall of some living thing? we honk horns and seem all busy while all we have to do is get back home and get busy doing absolutely NOTHING. C'mon we are better than that. we have a mind that thinks, take it out of it's small little boxes even an ant would suffocate in.

New Grounds

I'll let you know when I'm there.
To see you happy, I'll let you know.
I'll let you know how I am,
To see you happy, I'll lie.
I'll let you know where I am,
But you won't find me.
I'll show you the field i sow,
Tall buildings, small people.
I'll walk miles with you,
Just to see you happy.
I'll tell myself this lie,
"Just to see you happy".
I got the eye thats above and beyond,
But I have lost a lot for this.
But "I'm happy", I guess,
"Just to see you happy".
I'll show you my heart,
Such a piece of art,
Abstract.
I'll tell you I don't exist,
"Just to see you cry".
I'm a storyteller that's what i do,
Tell stories.
Sky below, earth above,
I fall head down,
But thats how I see it,
"Sky below, earth above".
So i reach new oblivions,
Break new grounds.
I guess "I'm fine",
If thats what they call it.
I can't drown further,
Reached the bottom,
Still alive.
King of the dead fish,
And death, my slave,
"Conquered" new ground,
Years ago.
I age twice,
"Compelled" new ground.
Fades away.
I'll take you to a room,
Lock you inside myself,
Scared?
You should be.
"Undesired" new ground.
No escape, no way out.
I'll take you far away,
To a place between sky and earth,
Leave you there,
Alone,
Scared again?
You shouldn't be,
I'll be there,
Upside down,
Watching you.
I'll show you how i dissolve,
Within my own breaths,
Amazed?
"Achieved" new ground.
Dont blink,
You'll miss it,
I'll show you how,
I blow my brains out,
"Suicidal" new ground.
Petrified?
Dont be,
Not my first time.
I'll be your best friend in the dark,
Because it defines me,
I can define it.
Confused?
You should be,
And I am not surprised why,
You've never been in there before.
You dont know how amazing it is,
"Mysterious" new ground.
Stay close,
You might die inside this bowl,
Only "dead fish" lives here,
They know how to survive this.
You don't,
You can't,
You won't last a moment.
I'll tell you what i dream about,
It's a place i go to,
Meet myself, see me old,
Wrinkled and weak,
Shaking and not awaking,
So i sleep young,
Wake up old,
I switched places a long time ago,
With the old man i saw.
He was clever, I was not,
So now I'm the dream,
He's the awakening.
Yes I still linger there,
Captivated within myself,
"Imprisoned" new ground.
The chains heavy,
The room small and dark,
He keeps feeding me,
With fables and things,
I can't comprehend,
And I'm starting to get a liking to it,
Ensuring my life sentence.
I'll do my time,
But I'll be old then,
And "he" would be young,
Like I said,
Upside down,
A place between sky and earth.
Wait till I come out of here,
Just wait I promise i'll be out,
"Unfaithful" new ground.

Lost and Found

Find me, I'm lost somewhere in the light and the dark. Find me, I'm lost somewhere in the black and white. Find me, I'm lost somewhere between life and death. Find me please, I'm lost somewhere in a beggar's pot and a king's crown. Find me, I'm lost in blood and water; one flows from the top of a mountain, the other from a treasure of secrets untold and unheard of. Find me, I'm lost somewhere like centuries dried ink in a book, I'm lost like the treasure of Solomon, like the holy grail, like the book of Eli. Find me, I'm lost somewhere in a dying man's last breath and a newborn's first cry. I'm lost somewhere in humanity and tyranny. Please find me,I'm lost from quiet a while now. I'm lost somewhere in the first glance of love and the last aching goodbye. I have been lost for ages and i will remain that way until you find me. I'm not a treasure but not any less.

Look inside yourself and you might find me. I was there when you conquered the world, I was the apple of your eye when you invented and pondered, when you cared, when you could feel, when you were a man, a human, a creature of God. Find me in the crimson red of your heart and the deep black of your eye. I don't know how you gambled me when both the sides of this coin were the same. Find me if you want to find me. Find me in a mirror staring at yourself or at a window staring at the world. I'm here, I'm there, I'm everywhere, I'm where you will start looking for me. I'm the dark night in which you sit and cry your heart out. I;m the breaking streak of light into your darkness, I'm the mountain that is little shown and mostly hidden, I'm the flow of water and I'm the beauty of how it never misses it's path, never flows upstream, never fuses into something smaller but larger than itself.

I'm the submission of droplet into a thin stream, the submission of a stream into a river, a river's into a sea and I'm the sea's submission into an ocean. I'm a cycle that never ends, a system that never fails. I'm the day after the lonely night and the night after a tiring and busy day. I'm the cloud that rains and the soil that blooms into fields. I'm the echo in a cave, I'm the silence in a conversation. I'm the blink of an eye and the never ending hot summer day. I'm the sweat of the poor and wine of the rich. I follow a sequence yet i have no pattern. I'm the whisper of an ant, I'm the silence of the thunder. I'm the scent of a page and I'm the knowledge of an old age. I'm the burning candle in the night and I'm the moth that follows the light. I'm the fuel of the burning lamp that shows you the way, I'm the map that never lets you astray. I'm the blackest of the black and the whitest of the white yet I'm grey. I'm the hot blood of the earth and the cold heart of the moon.

Find me, I'm here, I'm there, I'm everywhere, I am where you will start looking for me. I'm lost and sad, I'm sad because i can see you yet you can't find me. Your thirst can only be quenched if you are thirsty, your muscles relaxed if you are tired, your stomach satisfied if you are hungry, your destination reached if you have one. Please find me I'm a secret known by only a few- and they know how to keep a secret.

It's Not Always That Easy

Why do you make me walk for miles in search of you, what is it that you hold for me, what are you and how are you? I'm tired but do you ever think about this? well, in the first place you never asked me to follow you but i just have to follow why can't you understand i have to keep following you until i'm there and i know i never will be there, its the ground underneath me that will keep going and going back as i advance but i know i'll never reach you. I'll keep walking the earth but i will never reach you. i know you are something, i know you hold something for me, i know you have it with you, but how long do i have to keep running and walking for you? you've got me crawling for you, i call out but you are too far to listen to me, and i know you would stop for me if only you could hear me cry out for you. but yet you keep going and going knowing that i would be shouting at you, blaming you for being too fast. i will swim after you, run, walk and jump off after you. no terrain is too high or rough to reach you. until i have strength and even after it worns out i'll be keep coming and following you. will I ever reach you? this question is the fuel to my struggle.

Where will this search for you take me and in what state would i be then? how would i look after following you for so much longer that i won't even remember from where i started and where it ended. this quest will eventually end, this hope keeps me going on. something fake i know but i'll hold on to it anyway, i'll strangle it to death. it seems like a continuum which means that it's thousands of segments looks the same but both ends of it are different. i want to start the same but end differently. i want to look the same but die differently. i want to be the same but after i'm done looking for you, i want to be different or else all this was for nothing. End me if you can. but no you won't because in order to do that, you'll have to follow me, i'll be your ultimate quest, your search, and i'm not that cruel to put you in the state i am. i am used to how i am, i am used to searching for you, follow you crawling and whining about how hard it is. thats the only way i know, thats the only way i am. but you, you are different, you have been searching too, been hunting for what you've been looking for and now that you have found it, you have became it. you know it's ways, you know how it was, how you are now. so teach me too but your distance from me tells me that this is the only way to learn, the only way to know what you are so i will follow, as long as you can take me, as long as i can follow, as long as you don't get tired and i know you won't, you have your own ways.

What if i finally reach you? how will you ever face me, how did you accepted what you were following? werent you angry how far it was, how long it took you to be there, how you cried and it wont listen to you? how did you then after all this accepted it? i know your answer would be then why am i following you? well that is because thats the only way i know how to live; following you, looking for you, in search of you. what if you don't even exist and all this were just rumors? then i can proudly say that when the world was following earthly desires, i followed you. i followed what i couldn't see but saw, couldn't hear but heared, couldn't touch but touched. you have your own way of making me follow you, you leave traces behind. you leave places behind, memories that tells me you were here. i have always been the past for you but you have always been the future for me. one day i will find you and be you. but i will not make the one following me suffer the way you suffered me. i can now only wish you didnt had the same promising words spoken while you were in my place because if you did, then you are doing it all wrong! And i have been following you ever since to tell you this.

Confessions

I cannot see, i cannot feel
I cannot be myself anymore,
My heart closed, the pain's overdosed
I cannot open the same door,

I run n run but find no place to stay,
I hear ppl tawk abt a place far away
This silence in my hart is giving way,
To the thunders of a judgment day.

I walk in a million, i talk to a billion
But i cnt find solace anymore,
My hart a cactus in a cold dessert
It wont need a rain anymore,

I run n run but find no place to stay
I hear ppl talk abt a place far away,
This silence in my hart is giving way
To the thunders of a judgment day,

I feel lyk burning inside wid arms open wide,
And i dont need a saviour anymore.

The Storyteller

When everything is lost, I know i'll have you. When hope is exhausted, I know you'll be there. But who are you? Why dont you ever say something? Why dont you ever express? Your eyes know something and I know that. You have been places, seen things, felt things. I'm sorry but I know that. Am I supposed to know it? Am I supposed to care? You never ask me for something, never complain, you just sit and listen with your heart wide open to me, feels like being with you, that moment. Who are you? What are you? Why are you this way? And why do I get to know you when I have all these deaf people around me, Why do I want you to listen when I know that you are a momentarily partner in my pain, when I know that when you walk away, You will open this very own heart of your's to something else and forget I even existed, forget we talked, spent some moments together. Are you this way to everyone around you? These questions can never let go of me, never exhausts me of thinking about them. I know there are no answers to them yet I seek them in the lonely night, when I am with me. And there you come again, you sit in front of me, your eyes wait to witness the unfolding of another story, your heart wide open again, do you even care or is it just your habit? Or am I just your hobby? You will listen and I would know where this all will end, yet you listen and I tell. We are both alike, we know where it goes, we know what happens when the story ends, Isn't that knowing each other?

Kingship

Everything happens for a reason, it gives way to another thing happening, there's no such thing as chaos or uncertainty, it all happens - slowly, silently, behind our backs, we are unaware of the consequences yet we want to be prepared for the worse, we know that we cannot prevent it yet we sharpen our swords, fuel our tanks and keep the jets flying in the air, and when the time does come, we are never ready enough.
               
The fear of the unknown has drowned empires with it, cities lost up till now that are not yet discovered, some under the sea while others in the very earth we walk over. Flesh, blood and bone is no match to what the future holds, yet we claim to be kings and conquerors. The power of a single man can free a thousand of souls from their bodies if the king is tyrant and can give a thousand bodies, souls if the king is just and kind. Kings - oh yes, they have ruled our world from centuries. What makes them the rulers? What do they have that a subject or a common man cannot have? Some are born kings but some find their ways into the palace through streets or even through the courts where plots and deceptions are given birth. One man's death is another man's life, and another man's life is some other man's reason to scheme for the life just snatched. A trade - between life and death, soul and body, loyalty and treason and between a Throne and a Tombstone!

Greed has always poisoned man's soul, it has made him do acts against his principles, his dignity, his honor and even his life. The hope of a better tomorrow kills us, makes us think we are almost there while we are going away from everything that we hold dear, hope; where gives a man life can snatch the very things he once loved, it's a light far away in a tunnel, you can walk to it as long and as much you want to, you'll always see this light far away from you. And while going towards it, you breath poison at every step you advance - Oxygen. Yes, it gets a man old, makes him forget, forget all the ills he has done while he was a young boy but time remembers everything, it is a never ending log that records everything and when the right time approaches, it confronts you with YOU; the unknown you have been preparing for all this time while you were the only creator of it. Being a king, is knowing how to create the unknown, how to control it, how to confront it and how to make it easy on yourself by the time when you will have no strength in your bones left, the muscles of your heart would be weary and you eyes dim and lifeless, wrinkles would be your only beauty you could claim and when your body trembles and creaks. The air a man breathe can do him this good, it can take him this long but the destiny of man is chosen by himself, his monsters and his allies are his choice.

Life allows you to take different paths; and these paths leads to nowhere but to a man's unknown fear. Very few "kings" can understand this, they know how this game is played, they know how to plot and scheme in the courts, how to manipulate, create and tackle their future selves. A sword needs a bearer and a bearer needs the Right, the Will and the Skill to wield a sword - so, a sword needs less than what a bearer needs. A sword can only then protect a man when the sword's needs are fulfilled otherwise a sword is not any less or any more than an ordinary steel - like an anchor to a ship.

Time; as history knows is the true king, the true conqueror of all men, when it goes by it is felt by none but it has a trick it holds secret, and the trick it does is when it slows down on a man - kills him slow and steady, his cries are useless, his struggles carry no weight, his breathes are deep and cold, almost as if "time" is laughing at him and watching him when he wears his strength out and his heart dries out of blood and turns into a dark mass of rotten flesh. Soon his memories begins to fade away, his words forgotten, his image erased, his life; as if never existed on this God's green earth, what left of him is nothing, it is the only mass on earth that can be destroyed and never created again. Everything ends, the lands, the oceans, the rivers, the beauty, the wars, the darkness, the little moments that a man holds dear. What never ends is the sword that he once wielded! The sword remembers it's bearer, it remembers the lessons learnt on it while he used to practice over it, yes; the sword remembers it's kings, the shields it went through, the skulls it cracked open, the taste of fresh blood and the zeal and courage over the battlefield, it remembers everything. Sharpen his sword for the battlefield a king should, for this is his only memento to tell the world that there lived a king who was the ruler of goodwill, an inventor of his unknown fears and who was not a slave to greed, hate and lived his life running from his unknown, he was a king of kings, the only true bearer of the sword he forged with his very own hands - it's handle made of honor and dignity that connects the man and the sword, it's steel forged with gentleness, kindness and love to take heads of the tyrant and the unloved, it's scabbard; the time and the king - the conqueror of time!

Be that King!

The Spent Hours Looking at YOU!

I really don't know what to write although I want to, I'm just looking at people's blogs and thinking what do they write all day long, all the time. Guess i'll never know, maybe i'm not a writer in a way that can write about the daily ups and downs I go through. So i design my blog, configure it here and there, added a few things and removed some, but it makes no difference in my boredom so i finally decided to write anything in here instead. So i'll just write away whatever's going through my mind right now.

                 I love weekends, i really do; but at time they get heavy on me, there are times that i don't know what to do, what to think or even when to think, this numbness in my head gets me really down. The sunlight coming through my window keeps reminding me that there's a lot yet to do. But what should I do? The question of my life! I like it when i'm on to something, i'm that sticky kinda guy who won't give up until he's through with THAT something, so i prefer challenges but they at times can be hard to find and even regretting at times. Should i fix the generator? Naaahhh! its winters, who needs fans on? nobody? oh well then i guess we're cool on this subject. Should I write something? Well Mr.Einstein you're already WRITING something! I think I should hang out with friends, but no, most of them have papers and some are sick while others gone somewhere, GOD this is so boring at times!

                Last night i was watching some show on BBC, they were showing how the art evolved in America from cubism to abstract, there's this thing about abstract that is so indulging, it's wholly based on emotions and feelings and there's no realism in it, some even went on to draw PLAIN BLACK canvases, now one thinks what can it mean? Why would an artist capable of making some beautiful colorful patterns and emotions draw something as plain as this? A black painted canvas, that was all, nothing more or less to it. It didn't matter why they were black, where they were placed is all that mattered. They were 8 or maybe 9 in number, huge, tall and black. their length was more than their width which were hanged vertically in a church, the church was a "secular" one. So as the host entered it, there was a round hall where all these paintings were hanged, black..just plain black. One could see the brush strokes over the canvas, one could see that the painter wasn't joking, was very much serious about doing this. In  churches there are usually paintings done on the windows and on the walls, paintings of Jesus, Mary or a cross maybe, you got the idea, but here there was nothing at all, the hall was just white and these black, tall canvases staring at you as you enter. There was no focus there, all the paintings were facing each other in a round hall, one could not decide where to look and what to look at when you enter. You could be spinning around in it all day. So why did the artist do it? What was the reason behind this? Well, the black paintings all over the hall were depicting equality, and they were placed in front of each other, which gave an idea of a mirror, meaning that those were actually mirrors not paintings, so one could see into them and see his/her own reflection in them. This really struck me, the thought and the intelligence that went into creating a black painted canvas is just unexplainable, this gave me a notion that its not the painting itself that explains the whole for you, its you who does it. I'm forgetting the name of the painter but he was some serious work! A sharp white line dividing a black painted canvas showed the power of an idea, the light into the dark, i really liked his work. Apart from that his paintings were all drips and splashes, he was known as "Jack the dripper", that should help you guys goggling him! A real piece of work!

                    It has always inspired me, the genius work of people, people who thinks outside the box, who looks at world from a different view, from an extraordinary eye. The paintings no matter how abstract they get, they always mean something, they are the emotions not the faces, the ideas, the real ideas, the sorrow and happiness, chaos and calm. Picasso was the inventor of "cubism", this is the type where figures are drawn and that takes you a step away from "realism" the kind which is real and looks real just like a picture. He once went to some museum where the art was sold in petty cash because it wasn't considered much of an art, it was from all around the world, it had those antique things in it which were not much of a show. he came across one of those "African masks" that were said to be an "anti-magic-and-ghosts" mask. Thats where he got an idea of making figures and discrete faces, pretty imaginative!

                     Any kind of an art is worth looking at because it explains life and the things around us so beautifully and so realistically, the artist actually takes time to draw, write or compose whatever s/he feels about it. If its the dead silent streets or the clapping, laughing, dancing or happy crowd, they all mean something and at times, they can mean a total opposite of what the artist is trying to show us, a dilemma is always there and that is the whole beauty of it, it challenges you to find out the answer yourself. And when you do find it out, things are not the same anymore because you get touched by the artist ho gave it so much time just make you realise the truth of things.
                   
                    Well i hope I didn't got you people bored just like I am at the moment, but the fact is, i really don't know what to write in here, I'll keep you updated with my latest encounters with things like these or with things I think that should be known and pondered upon. Peace.

The Eye of Beloved

I've never seen anything like it before,

Nothing so full of life and joy;

Nothing so beautiful and tempting,

Nothing so promising, so complete,

So soothing and indulging;

Than the view and sounds of nature,

All the art that went into it;

Is so powerful and awesome.

It is like a huge magnet and I’m a tiny piece of metal attached to it –

Helpless and choice less.

I’ll stick to it until I rust and fade away.

It is like a galaxy of stars shinning bright like diamonds –

And right in-between them is the end of the world,

The ultimate truth, the God of me; the black hole of mysteries,

That holds everything intact,

And pulls everything that goes near it.

A Desperate Cry for Love

Where’s the love? Where has it gone? Why are people killing each other? Terrorism - is it done by people wearing suits or is it done by the people with huge ugly beards? Anyway what is the outcome? What are we looking at here when we look at this never ending war? What has it done to an average Joe like you and me, are we gaining anything out of it? We are paying with our lives, and no I am not just talking about Pakistan. The American soldiers have lives, they have families and they are following orders. Who is the mastermind behind all this? Who is killed and by whom, does these questions really matter? Why all this apathy with any religion? I ask just one question and that is that why the hell can’t we live in peace? Why is love on such a long vacation? After when we are done with our prayers, aren't we all just the same? Don’t we feel the same? Have a mother, a father, a brother, a husband, a wife, kids and friends? Where did all this hate come from? Who is planting it in us? We humans have this thing that we love, we don’t hate, we care we don’t look away, how can a beating heart not recognize its fellow? If this is true then why all these wars and famines, all this hatred and no sign of love far far away. Who are you? Have you ever asked you this question? What answer do you get? No matter how far you go, you’re merely a human, made of flesh and blood. You feel pain, anger, sorrow and joy, ahh the joy.. the joy of being with friends and laughing out your time, being with your family and those cherishing moments. Is war going to give you this joy? Will pain do? We above everything and anything have lost humanity in the way somewhere, we pass by a poor person and nothing happens to us, we see wars and nothing happens, we see nations being destroyed and nothing happens, we see people vanish and nothing happens. We have turned into machines, machines don’t think, they don’t have emotions, they follow and obey their programmers. Think about it, who’s programming us? Who’s controlling our strings? Making us dance while we cry inside, huh! And then you say we are a free nation, any nation that goes left while it wants to go right is NOT free! And this goes for the whole world, there’s no such thing as free nations, isn't it too obvious? Don’t you see it? There are top notch people in every nation and they are all friends with each other, and then look at us, if you've seen the “predator”, that will make it easier for me to make you show, well we are their game. They decide our paths we are like the white test mice that scientists carry out their tests on. And then we kill each other and hate each other because that’s what they don’t want, no they don’t want love within us, that’s bad, very bad. Because then we’ll not be fighting each other and turn our fucking sleepy heads towards them. And you know damn well who’s them, there’s always a “them” in every so called “free” country. While we cry, they laugh, while we die of hunger, they eat our flesh. We will wake up to it, but it’s going to be too late. People like John Lennon, Malcolm X, Che Guevara and Gandhi spent their whole lives teaching idiots like us what love is and what do we do to them? Yeah! – That.

                          Think about it, what are you? A consumer? Or an investor? A consumer of all the hate that we are fed all day every day or an investor of love to this world? Questions are good, but we don’t ask them anymore, our schools have been manipulated to an extent that it has captivated the questioning mind into a slave; all it knows now is 1 and 0, yes – just like a computer program, a TV channel that they can switch anytime they don’t us speaking at them. We have lost  taste of good music, we have lost our dignity, we have lost our traditions, our culture and all we see is people killing people, shows like “Spartacus” and “Breaking Bad”, I wonder where did shows like “Mind your language” and “X-files” etc went. Its right in front of your eyes, your being in contact with it every day, every time and anywhere, they are feeding us crap and we don’t mind it anymore, then stop complaining about the teen pregnancies and the rape rates, the murders and robberies and school shootings and what not, this is a gutter, a filth which we cry about every time and never plan to clean it up. The only way to clean it up is get cleaned yourself, there’s no need to carpet they whole world, wearing shoes would do.

                    In the end, we are all the same, we are all just the same. we are humans, while we breath; we are Alexander, Hitler, Newton, Da Vinci, Nostro Damis, Gandhi, John Lennon, King Henry and Mother Teresa, Tipu Sultan and Mir Jaffer, Allama Iqbal and Sir Syed Ahmad Khan, we are the inventors, the innovators, the explorers, the murderers and the saviours, the loyal and the traitors, peace makers and war declarers, we are good and we are the bad. one thing is certain, we hold it inside ourselves, if it's love or it's hate, it both lives within us, it all comes down to what we feed the most.. 

                    History is a window into the future. A heart loves; its soft inside, it feels another beating heart… it always does. Let’s strip it off from it’s uniform that is being worn over it and find out the beating heart’s love for humanity. Let’s stop being cannon fodder against each other. Peace!

Nicotine

Its not another of those moments which i pass alone,
No its none of those in which boredom is worn.
Emerging out of the red embers into the lonely cold night,
She dances and waves at me,
Like a thought uncaught, like a flash of light,
She vanishes!
Gives me quiet a show for a while before she says goodbye.
I cant resist but see her dance to me again,
So i sing my song to the already red embers and there she comes again,
Dancing and asking me if i had missed her enough.
Like a soul into a body; i inhale her,
Make her touch my heart that beats with the rhythm of the song she sings to it.
And when she gets heavy on me, she takes me to her land,
Shows me her people, makes promises with me that only God would with a man.
Plays a violin in my heart - her this attitude,
My heart turns into a thousand strings of which she's the player,
Of which she's the only player!

Adrenaline

Jumping off a high cliff, a mountain, a tall building,
Racing in a busy road, fighting a war with bullets flying above your head,
The first kiss of your love, smoking hash, running towards a door never opened yet,
The moment when you know the unknown, see the unseen, touch the untouched,
Felt the unfelt, gasping heavy after missing a single breath, the very breath,
That keeps your lie a secret, the bridge between you and the afterlife,
You wont miss it because you're not done with life yet,
Alot of unfinished business, alot of achievements to go through and when you do
achieve them - another adrenaline!
This is all that you and I live for!
Finding out ways to race the heart.
It is a machine,
Fueled with craziness,
Runs of life,
Charged with it's obsession to beat itself ....to Death.

You Poor Creatures!

What do you know what I see,
what I see in what you call isolation and darkness and sickness and what not!
You'll never know what i see in this continuum state of mine - my world, the spirals,
the beautiful light in the dark, the music i see, the abyss of amazingness,
the water dripping from the end of the mountain into a lake, the gears of machines rattling against each other, the open wide sky and the plain white doves, the beauty of the eyes and the mazes of hair,
the sweet fragrance of wood and ink, all the promises she makes to me.
You pay for all these wonderful moments and things while I give myself to me and yet you miss a lot.
If only you'd find your world, you'll know what I mean, till then - just ignore what I say, yes I'm mad,
I'm a psycho, YES I need medical attention. You'll never know that my "isolation" and "darkness" is like you're most happiest moment lived every breath i take.
Tsk tsk tsk, you poor, poor creatures!

An Overview

Is it the money?, the house we live in?, the status we have?, the way we look at the world or the people living in it?, is it the love and affection we have for one another?, is the seconds drifting by?, the seasons strolling?, the sun rising up after the moon or the moon after the sun?, is it the religion or the endless cries of the poor being tortured and murdered or the rich sucking up on the blood of the tortured? What is it? – Life; by itself is taking breaths but there is more to it – much more. An endless cycle of feelings and desires that can never be fulfilled, not unless we are alive, not unless we keep fulfilling these petty desires. It will keep rotating and rotating, an unstoppable cycle of events unfolding – some desirable, some not. Often comes a point in my life that I don’t know what to do or what to think, I am simply “blank” at these moments, thinking what should I do best to kill the already dying time, like many others – I am also a holder of desires, petty maybe, unachievable, but it still shines my heart and makes me live on this endless cycle. We humans are stupid in thinking that by achieving something our hearts will be at rest and will hold no more desires; but it always does. We thrive and turn ourselves into dust for it with the name we are given with from our childhood not knowing that the very name will someday shine in the bright sunlight on our tombstone of a grave six feet under where it really belongs. What is it going to be in there? How is it going to feel? It is a path unknown to man, a journey he does not wants to take because of the fear of the unknown, and a journey from where no man has ever returned to tell the tale. Death really is a puzzle though; it answers a lot of questions and leaves a lot of answers to questions we are unaware of. Yet another desire of mankind – to travel the journey and come back from it to share the experience with his fellow men, the sense of association never leaves us, we always want to impress people, want to show them what we are capable of and to what heights we can reach ultimately forgetting to be our own selves just for once and ponder upon the questions to which the answers lies within ourselves. Once those answers are found, we shall be satisfied with our lives; yet again, I think that is why we really don’t want to have a look at those answers and rather be fooled and taken away with this circus and a freak show all around us. Indeed we are fools calling each other different names.

Here We Go

Kicking off my blog. Been made from quiet a while but i was maybe waiting for the right time to start putting things into it. Hope it takes you out into an imaginative journey to my world. Welcome.