To celebrate the anniversary of a life well lived by one of my mentors here and a brother to me, I do a repost of the first collab I had with him @ /kehta hai joker, which was his idea that came from a post he had done earlier on religion filled with lots of questions. I only hope to meet you when the day comes to join you in the spirit realm Titled A Conversation With God ------------------------------------------------------------------------
QUESTIONING GOD by kehati hai joker Did we create god after coming first , or God really did make us Is there a divine plan that has gone bust Or Is that just nonsense, superflous.
If I met god on a downtown bus Why should I submit and blindly trust And not stop to debate and discuss why some sleep hungry and some get surplus
Why does he need mediators for his arquebus Why can't he be like Dumbledore and use sonorous Why do wallflowers face behavior unjust While ungodly men go unblamed for their ruckus If evil it was,why did he even make lust To win my faith,answer he must
If we come concocted from stardust Then why does vicious shine and virtuous rust If man is bad,then as creator isn't he worst Is this a bubble,that science is about to burst Is there a divine plan that has gone bust Or Is that just nonsense, superflous
GOD ANSWERS by Me So you wanted to debate and discuss Or do you want me to make all your questions just For one to beleive was never made a must Like a sailing ship in life I act as the mast I never look at the misdeeds of the past For if you repent I forgive and lay it at rest All I ask is for the path to be followed at its best I never made but I created you first For I saw the earth bare it would fall to its own rust Don't forget Satan was an but fell from heaven fast Never doubt he was from the beginning and attacks at you lust And if you slip into his den you'll never see past And so my son came to offer life that your redemption may last For my mediators were outnumbered by a vast So to you I lay no cast,and today as you lay get a rest For the question I can't answer is when will be your last For this series I've been with you I have laid my cast
A poet is a poet only when he is writing a poem. I relay information to my senses and it captivates you all. My words are limited to places. A meaningless thought is still there roaming between the cortex and the stem but bytes don't affect the course of life, do they? A day could get gloomy if you keep your eyes moored on the tip of a leaf until when transpiration sucks out the green from it. But again you slouch like a slob and write about it infront of people you don't know. Things look under control when you aren't alone, but when you sit in a balcony filled with green you can't help but think of rain. Rain isn't a mystery under Science's lens, it spews out acid when it feels violated. Infact I am like a garbage box too, if you keep me full of shit, I stink. When the sky appears orange during sunset the heart is filled with a feeling of longing for something. That something is what people search, if they don't find it within themselves they look for others who have it. They curl themselves on the sofa and make imagination their muse. They paint it, they write about it. The girl on the sidelines of a dilapidated city surely looked pretty, she wore an orange maxi and her lips wore a fluttering anxiety. A photographer clicked her photos and vogue signed a contract. The essence of an incoming Diwali is seeping into the hearts of believers, we left a festival behind and Durga Ma crossed Ganga on a boat, supposedly. It poured down heavily on Vijayadashami, Ma paddled through the junks of the river, thinking about all that there is in the world. I smile a lot nowadays, and it makes me realise the importance of lips. When you kiss someone you exchange saliva, you exchange a desire, you exchange a tune of being in sync. It's a moment when your dwindling thoughts align.
Just this for today, too much for writing, too much of sitting at a place and imagining.
Love is something That can make you So strong at times.. That you'll feel You don't need anything else..
And the very next second
Will make you so weak. That you start expecting From broken people And broken things To fix Your broken heart....! ☺ Irrespective of everything that comes with love. A chance of getting loved back.. Is always worth a shot.
You're a room, dressed in pink curtains, and mauve bed sheets. Your cherry blossom candles, and rose champagne glasses, that dulce aftertaste, somehow makes me weep. A handful of flowery, sweet daydreams, too sublime to last long. So I suffocate them, beneath my throat, mistaking them for, sober hallucinations, sweet enough to succumb to oddly bitter pills.
You're a sky, dressed in dawn, but why do you lament, such a dusky melancholy? Magnolias whisper, your windy wisps, amidst subtle pastel days, you bury cataclysmic nights. But how long will you hide, your tragedy from twilight, when the aurelia covers, everything wide?
You're an ocean, of dainty seashells, hiding meekly, beneath the weighing sand. I picked you up, on my scarred palms, but you were too delicate, to adorn my scars. A world too colossal, for your timid strides, so you are rather safe, in the sandy hide.
You're the mangata, of some selenophile's dream, struggling to get through, the moon's heavy tides. Oh the poets, might not see your grief, utopian fantasies, are all you define. And now who am I, to not let you go, after all you're too fragile, to even hold on to.