" I never had that mystical feeling when I inked about the dichotomy and imprinted all the odds that eschewed the oneness. Since the clash between Sumer and Elam,I haven't enthralled towards the submission of desire to expand in the unanimous minds."
*Setting the alarm to wake up early and yelling the alarm for waking you up early* ~Dear Hopeless people, you are not alone in this beautiful journey.( My dear exceptional people, you have to skip this or else you'll be subjected to market risk)
Six in the morning Hopelessly wrote a memoir of hopelessness. Somewhere being missed out in the hopeful crowd like an ugly duckling. Pressing the stress balls when the hopeful crowd talk about Gucci & LV. Dear amigos, Remember, You aren't alone in this journey of saturation. One fine day, the fleeting rage bursted only via bubble wraps, hopelessly. The only ray of hope was "Talking Tom",the animated version of us. When the white tables were filled with horde discussing about "Wimbledon" We desperately wanted to fly like an angry bird yet remained as a chick seated on the egg. Our mind goes gaga when the gaggles start waxing to put the "Vaccination done" pic. Once again amigos, You aren't alone in this beautiful journey. We behave like slime balls when we have to spend boxes of money to buy boxers. When the so called magic happens our hopeless life kicks the doors of logic. Our hopelessness had to be flushed afta Pooping to join the respected hopeful crowd. Adios Amigos,Let's meet once again in the bathroom stories- part two hopelessly.
Yours Unprofessionally, Abi
(When bathroom tours are made, why not bathroom stories~Amigos, the floor beneath my feet seemed hopeless as I stood on that hopelessly)
Under the moon light rain with the mellow memories of stars dancing like a ballerina in the music box with rose dreams of night sky exploring the space with astronaut light waiting for the sunrise in another galaxy clouded like a sugar pink paradise. Flying high like a unicorn making a wish with balloons.Invading the secret passages of Flamingo's tea party in the swan lake of space garden unlocking the buried secrets in the purple dream lands of eternal lovestories. In the hidden landscape with dream breeze of after sunset,celebrating the love in the air, chasing the dreams of pink hour magic in the parallel realities of the rush hour and roof top thoughts mixed with wars and stars in the battle of words inked in the diaries of the hidden worlds with hidden exit.
The stench of the dwindled hopes on the beds of departure. The pungent smell of capsules fed the prolonged wailing dupes of the immedicable disease. The mephitic vapours were the only scent that was around for years filled with agony. In the crowd of capsules, the musty syringes were the ambroisal for the immortal sufferings. The odor of pleasant and unpleasant were betwixt the choices of medicines and urinary sponged frame of flesh. The brutal sufferings ended with the last breath as senses faded away from the mortal.
Every fairytale has been told, Every customary folklore has been enacted, Every verbal folklore has been believed.
Ever questioned the quiddity of the folklore?
"Be generous to offer alms for the schnorrer" Being generous with the intention to help or just to become virtuous.
"Be kind to feed the starving stray dogs" Being kind with the intention to fill the appetite of the selfless creatures or in search of virtues.
"Don't walk under the ladders"~Who committed the sin? Neither the ladder nor did I.
"The era of kings gone by,the age of hypocrites revived the say of serving people as the eternal prodigy." The verbal lore passed from generation to generation.
The Tale of Mahabharata has been told as the war between Dharma and Adharma.The tale of Karna has never been told until it has been asked.If doing good deeds has been counted then the man of good deeds lost his mastery towards his art and the intent behind the mastery has been questioned atlast.
"Every good deed counts." ~Everyone believed and so I.
"The intent behind every good deed counts"~The folklore that has never been told until the inner spirit of one understands.
On her 30th birthday, Ki woke up a little late and before her even realizing it, she was standing next to the closet in her room. She carefully opened it and pulled out a yellow diary, holding a hot cup of coffee in her hand. It was Vinny's, her partner, 'Vinny's diary of memories.' It began with "My little world." The divine soul of Ki were the lines of his diary and she became a phrase now, to cherish the bygone days through the lens of Vinny.
"Under the harsh rays of sun, a few birds composed a melody of pleasure, butterflies flapped their presence, all within me. I was sitting in a roofless cafe, waiting for her to arrive. An aroma of anxiety bounded me and I wasn't left alone.
It was my day, our day, for me to convey my love. In one corner, a couple sank their lips in the waves of love. Was that a French origin? or an American origin? I can't even perform a simple air kiss, a little furious yet jealous heart of mine uttered. It was then I noticed a man conveying his love for her, a small bouquet with more of words. "I found the reason for my smile, the day I found you. Will you let me be the reason for your smile?" She nodded her head, a cute little smile accompanied them. I knew, it's a third party dialogue, yet how romantically he conveyed!!
I asked the worker, a glass of 'warm' water and when things were calm, a guy just behind me raised a gun and pointed at his partner. Many, instead of getting tensed, smiled at them. Aren't they supposed to save her? Quite strange and just before I raise my voice, he said "You're under arrest for stealing my heart." People started clapping for them. Was that a proposal or performance!? How creative these people are!, I wondered.
It was then you came Ki. Dressed in a yellow attire, I swear, you're the second angelic soul I have seen in my life. We introduced ourselves with little of words and more of blush. I ordered each a cup of coffee and the hands of my watch synced our heartbeat. An artist, I couldn't portray you with my brushes. A writer, I couldn't express what you are. We stared at each others eyes, preparations for proposal dissolved. We looked at each other, no matter what, that's the best sight I have ever had and I knew that the hot cup of coffee will wait, until the tale of love ends in our eyes."
A little late she woke up, not in the world of humans but in the world of him, Vinny. A minuscule drop fell down from her eye, vanishing the full stop which he had kept. She closed the diary and stood near his photo, framed and placed in the mandir of their home. The endpoint of the tale of love vanished and all she has is the tale of memories, an immortal tale of memories.
with half-term daddy promised my eventide for bringing back my summer, on overmorrow & nostalgia with numbered brio. On my fourteenth birthday, I welkin my hope upon poetry to attach an erstwhile this morn. I often tried to breathe, entirely evaporated exulansis which more often faltered my faults to write the yesterday with the snuggled nostalgia in verses.
desquamated outskirts over my crinkly palm, unravelling stifles under indispensable celluloid that mumma made on my sports day, whilst I was falling each step, losing myself. She was writing my fleeted innocence somewhere near that, N o s t a l g i a.
that birthday excitement lost as another feuillemort of this autumn,i hope scriptureint to write my yesterday when i had them as my summer to warm up my cold/mess with their jostle joy to write nostalgia.
"Give me some food...", a dog barked, on the streets. With little food & more love, a teen urged to serve. A starving man, no more lively, gazed at him. Who knew, he would have been served if he had asked.
"Close the faucet...", a stranger screamed, on the streets. Little conscious & more responsible, she halted its flow. A dried plant, in the roots of death, blinked its leaves. Last breath of it remained unnoticed, in a world awake.
"I need to go out tonight...", she pleaded her mother. The concerned heart, creator of her, resisted her. "Why don't my mom give me the freedom to fly?" She shared her pain with the caged bird in the terrace.
Gazing through the window, I noted them, In the weathering walls of my home. "There's so much pleasure in observing, you know?"
A part of me is holding back tears, Fractured walls of my little home, in isolation, Minuscule ants and stray dogs, never visited me, How will I feed them, when I'm in search of bread?
A part of me is holding back tears, again, And I step out of my home, with empty pockets. I breathe fear, yet wait and hope, when the World is fighting a war, in perplexed minds.
A sack of coins I find beside me, "One, Three, Eight, Ten...", it sums up ten dozens. An ordinary time I'm coming across, In the midst of strange times, for the first time.
A few feet, I take with the sack, "h..heyy", Someone stopped me in the halfway. "Did you find some money... sir?", I look at his eyes, Birds of same feather flock together, don't they?
I gave him, his very own sack, he smiled, he cried. Little food he has in his hand, "let's eat together", He uttered, fractured walls of my little home, Invited my guest, ants and stray dogs followed us.
A part of us is holding back tears, We expelled them together.
My life is perfect example of this term. I am like vegeta in dragon ball z suffering humiliation from a tons of goku's around me. Today i went to train to gym and sir told everyone to complete this challenge in 2 hrs but when i arrived he humiliated me in front of 30 people saying you can't do this, this is not of your level. I replied when it comes to fitness i am God. So i completed the challenge 2 times so as to prove that i am better than those 30 and my coach was surprised. Never in school never in real life till date my own parents and relatives say a good thing about me. They all humiliate me till date and i always prove them wrong. But they should know i am also a human and man it hurts. But they don't know who they are humiliating. A one man army whose mind is bulletproof and willpower filled with divinity.
That's why i always say, don't ask for help from God. He won't give you but ask for strength which many people lack. Respect is earned not given and i have tried still i don't get it. It's just a test but my God knows who he sent on this planet and what he will prove one day.
My mindset has always been whatever endeavour you choose you should be king in it or you'll be a slave with kings around you and that is humiliation for me.
Be like a special tree, don't crave for water but absorb the heated humiliated sunlight and you'll grow as your own blood, sweat, tears will be enough for hydration.