Too close to the death not mine, not yet. But of the ones that belong. Belong to nothing Yet synchronized to the hive. Hive to make behive

I write to you in vain with mercy

Guide

Aag me fekh do mai jalunga nhi Talwar se war karo mai katunga nhi Tum ahankar ho tumko marna hoga Mai aatma hu . amar hu Maut ek khayal hai jaise zindagi ek khayal hai Na sukh hai na dukh hai Na din hai na duniya Na insaan na bhagwan Sirf mai mai hoon main hoon mai

From my head to you

Usually I write with no blight,

With no sense of direction.

Minimal sense with no perception.

Half drunk, half sleep, while she coughs as I bleep.

Meaningless pettiness what she shows.

Talks of the world of what we don't like what it shows.

I don't like this, you don't do that.

Marvelous little shenanigans, talk of the bigger person.

YET, this one is a an ode to being different. 

A correlation to products being different.

That there is no 1 way but multi.

As all belong.

Only rule don't yoU DARE HURT ANOTHER ONE!!! FOR SURE PHYSICALLY, yet emotionally. 

Do what you do best FOR YOURSELF, without hurting. With Forgiving.

Pal

Pathetic Pathetic Pathetic ,Pathetic pathetic pathectoc oathetic pathectioc oarha kodpooiheytub opath a jd
\
dippoautikj nsa,k
[dkid ptgaj a ,nhau

I am just gonna assume ur listening to me as I speak.
Guess don't have anyone else to clearly say what is needed. Though it has been a pleasure that a couple of seconds are enough to define rest of mylife. And that it just becomes hard sometimes. Sarcastic lol....

_A talk with an atankwadi_

_Try me_

Grudge and power
raw flesh giving birth to endless meat in pools or blood, guttering rough lies amongst sore burns and cuts through punctured heart, dripping mundane sorrow of false judgment and sad pathetic lies of lust in pure happiness of suffering amidst deep depression and Satan's sadist behavior to judgment of any kind.
Piercing ground beef of human flesh. With sore oozing puss through one's lungs or rye love and dire trust and rough cuts into beautiful pathetic remorse of eternal life amongst the demons of crying feathers. Of angel's gods and hellfire of teh years of every death and of

_A tree sleeps in the day_

"I feared that someday people will find out that not all trees breathe oxygen at night and that they do read Ruskin Bond in broad moonlight and they listen to the Sufi's sing their melancholy to the fireflies in the dusk." ~Fetch

But the Tree dreamt of it. Of his ancestors in the strong stench of dying herd. Of all that was left of that bird that carnivore itself, burning into the heat of hell. Of dying scrubs and shrooms. In the very vicinity of the sandbox.
Another dying man on the Alps was dying of Cancer thinking his life was filled of enough joy to live a century more. His dog was all he had regret for. Wish he had this last bit of strength to lend him the stick.
Fetch.
The avalanche fell, crashed the maple down deep into the trench where the river

river wood loggers plane kid herd flight fly alp fly flight crash kid old man house same the plane last strength another avalanche fetch the plane goes flying u see the dog running behind it.

Random gazal shit

Dewan de noor
Hake mohabat
Iltaja kusoor

Har gulle pe aise bikta hoon,
Ke char phatte pe jaise khichta hoon.

Here this is the problem, I cant watch anymore movies because I know that the ones I have downloaded are the best ones, since I download only the best. The problem is I have to like them and develop my sense in such a way that people have to like them and so the critics. Its just so hard. I have to do something about it. It just kills my own feelings towards anything. And am in a dire need to loose everything. I cant just keep talking to you everyday. i need something to be done.

_Spiritual Bargain_

I will divide this post as an analysis in parts.

So I have been playing DC Universe for a while and yes it is Janmashthami....

Dream: I hate repeating myself

Dream Analysis: Have always tried to prove that Dreams are nothing but based of what you have touched on vaguely the day of. And have been right on that for a while.

So as part of the days events vaguely observed tons of Janmashthami (for those who dont know....The birth of "God Vishnu" avatar on earth called Krishna's Birthday) pictures on facebook. Since I dont care about all these holy celebrations its a pretty vagueity topic I usually neglect.

An image

Every little thing we do and see gives us the exact answer of what we are seeking. You can look at a little kid and tell how they can look like look if the grow old, and be right about it.

When I graduated

I am not sure what I want to do with my life anymore, no matter what I want, or what language I say this in, doesnt help. Janina ki korbo.

Thats what she said

I am a blog, a mirror, a clear post.

Once a dear, a mean dope,.

I spit to spat on long sheets. 

To clear a tear on deep sheets.

When you die

I will let you on a little secret 

You would know when you die. 

97%

Doesn't matter what comes after. Stop thinking about it. 

God has a lawyer

Too paranoid, too scared to do right by thy. 

Its not the pain of legalities, its the fear of causing the pain. 

Doing it right by. 

To protect one's he hires a lawyer to deal with it all. That lawyer being one or the other.

Narad or Jesus or Mohammad himself

The advocate, the lawyer.

Into the arms of the all.

You know Uno

Pondering thought: When you are born i.e. cease to exist. If there is free will, there is uncertainty  which guarantees man can fly without wings. But then gravity ponders in dictating rules. Rules dictate someone set them, hence will aint free. Given that there is an intelligence that dictates. Governs to say. That one can change within igs influence, whereas the collective when decides ponders rules. And when all living unite dictates rules. Hence, A=B That intelligence is collective consciousness of every being living collectively thinking and making decisions.
United further in future to create a singular collective conscious being of singular intelligence. Omnipresent and  omnipotent like the internet. Realizing the circle of life. A cycle of life. That for it to be it needs to create what brought it there. None other than end of time, but the cycle of pondering thought. 

Dil Se...

It is like that raw flesh of an injury, the fresher it is the more sensitive is the touch. Nonetheless that touch could be the caress of a loved one. It still hurts with touch. 

Until a point with the prolonged healing process. As and when it starts to heal. It itches. And you learn to like it. You want more of it. You let them touch it. Quite and serene it's not the words you listen to. It's your body learning, adjusting, adapting to learn that pain. That itch of heal. An addiction grows off it. The worse it gets the more you enjoy. Dont know where it's going. Amputation might be the end of it. Or we both take each other with it. 

Ring A ding ding

When they ask you what you bring.
When they tell you what to sing.
When you know you want more.
To bring yourself to sing.

To lore galore,
as vigil as it may seem.

It is in end matter to none
yet to one, who wants that change.

Change of presence,
for change from present.
Than that you bring
what u sing,
to the end the ring
ring a ding ding.

Consistent Commotion

When that crust is so hard it's disgusting. As it layers slowly to merely burst out. As lights off the modem remind you of those candle light nights. As those tears burst out to bokeh dancing out to incubus in my room. Burst they do not to dimmed commotion of your free spotify ads but to them candle light nights. Layers and layers of unresolved qualms. Crusting over time, sinking your true self at its epicenter, Primal insecurities over and over. Consistent commotion.

Disillusioned con-fused.

A rat, a mouse.
Your freaking spouse.

A goat, a sheep.
A parents sleep.

Tire journey,
Cumbersome troupe. 

Natural Calamity

It wasn't depression or will to live.
It was mischief.

Beatles Love

When turmoil is heavier as the power of the sea.
Talking loud speaking truth.
It asks my maiden name.
I respond of its irony of why thy shall ask something he aint willing to let out.

He responds with a let out a shout.
Crys me his power
Throws me a trout

For when I ask him same question
Irony flies out

Grote

Dark rote trench coat, 
Beseech me off my dreams.
They ask me to carry me,
Across whence shadows free.

Perceptive prune partake benevolence
Prospective gesture prudent behaviour
Perceived past circumstances 
Questions quote currency

Status quo stated, turned around
Trial duo, ask around
Of seas, country and old men
Ask how many they are. 
Who to take out?
Whence they are?

Questions quote urgency
They blind me ask around 
As dark rate hench coat
They search me off my dreams
Off dreams is what am made of
Across when shadows free.

- Kalam -

Souls dispatch like morbid dreams. While designing selfless beams. Zip through, make a wish, calming thou my inner ways. As recalled, duty hauled, to fall a tie with morbid dream. - RIP #Ranjan MP

Hubble

The tyrrell of tyranny contradicts emotions. Causing cons leading trouble. The rest of we talk of a  bubble. A part of me a living rubble. Though I do not speak, I call out many. Let her live to her full hubble.

Precious pawns

In this dilemma, i write about you
A curious little monster, that came in through.

Smoking up a shit ton of emotions. Breaking lies, healing boundaries and calling out the dark knight.

Constant

Those darkened days of moist re blaze.
Sinister blue craving dew.
Pondering glances of sunny lewd.
Of one thy many the showers of many.

Run o rain pungent pain
In dry bosom of cleaving illusions.
The aroma of coma
Of smell of drona.
Intrusion infusion of deafening conclusions.

Tyranny mischief off gleam of my sleeve,
Foggy phonetic of Mr. Poetic.
Rubbish for say folking my play.
A pat a tat a rickety clap.
A tap a dance swinging jazz.

To hail a ham ones tonsil gland.
or devour the beast with one last glance.
Love constant life.
Constant is fiest.

Following 28

Withing the 27 years of life. Nothing has affected me to "Let go of expectations" more than loosing good people to death. As I grew older more I realized how futile our efforts are to try better our future while our present suffers. How good and bad is just a perspective and that death doesn't choose on that merit who should join it. It just does. Random, unexpected, uncertain. That is so our future. But a gift, a gift is is our choice of our present. A state of mind that dictates this present is how we choose to be. A sense of calm composure is brought upon, when we quit searching and exist merely to be. Leading the soul to neither happiness nor sad, but mere stretch of a state of rest. To whoever has lost someone. Stay strong. Let the present be an example of whosoever dictates the future.

O captain, My captain.

The hardened demise of Robin Williams has left a sense of hole in my heart. A feeling I felt when my friend Nishant Fozdar passed away. Another light dimmed. I feel Mr. Will should have seen his own films to find a sense of life in himself. My interest in poetry, comedy, laughter and self muse had an idol through him, since I was a kid. Owen Wilson had almost had a similar fate. The next best for me feels for Jim Carey. Another comedian fighting for the same sense of humor in life. He does seem to have found peace in meditation. My heart goes out to humor, let it thrive. Humor me, you, everyone. As its a way to loosen one's insecurities, let the hurt out via laughter than weakness. Death sure is an end, but how we die sets an example to the living. Humor me. Hats off to the man who made the most, of both life and death. O captain, My captain.

_Was it a miracle or a considence_

Miracle man, am a big fan,
To lower your expectations,
To peek a little glance.
To mock a feeble chance.

Dear miracle man,
Why is it a mercy
To shine a little rainbow,
when Zeus is a little thirsty.

Mr miracle man
Why shine it now
Do you wish to see us bow?
Is that a little hubris

Oh yes you little man
thou shall a little dance
for whence I see my wrath
to end, thy minor had.

Why curse the fellow truth
to curb the growing fool
Oh create another world
To rule another ghoul.

Ghoul is just a tyrany
A bloody mary irony
The chalice holds the truth
the burnt story of food.

Of survival this little man
Pay for its fool and clan
You have to have thy time
to create a whole new mime

A mime of my respect
Of time and dine at best
Entrain a golden pooch
Of me of who I am
I shall train a goof.

_Letting Go_

Withing the 27 years of life. Nothing has affected me to "Let go of expectations" more than loosing good people to death. As I grew older more I realized how futile our efforts are to try better our future while our present suffers. How good and bad is just a perspective and that death doesn't choose on that merit who should join it. It just does. Random, unexpected, uncertain. That is so our future. But a gift, a gift is is our choice of our present. A state of mind that dictates this present is how we choose to be. A sense of calm composure is brought upon, when we quit searching and exist merely to be. Leading the soul to neither happiness nor sad, but mere stretch of a state of rest. To whoever has lost someone. Stay strong. Let the present be an example of whosoever dictates the future.

Nostalgia

To hail into heaven,
Is tahr far cry.
The call of the cavern
The beauty deny

It asks for forgiveness
To tell a lie
To bleach in dire sorrow
To cry calm deny

Remember few words
Few memoirs of thee
Of blessings he borrows
For life in thy

For letting them dwell
Nocturn noid nay.
Nostal void why?

Hunger and the heart

The gods have gifted, a book of love and of remedies. It tells you about who and when what will happen which would lead you array or away from your chosen path. It walks you by the bell. The leash of conduct through your virtues and values.  Bringing you close to tour sense of being. As time is just an illusion. It leads you through non existence of serenity with no reason but your own thoughts. All in your head, lead by hunger and lust.
Desires.
Hunger and the heart poise cocktion of adventure and the end of it all.

_To talk_

A: Why does someone react?
B: Because they relate to it.
A: Why do people relate it with themselves?
B: Because either they get offended or they like it.
A: Why do would they get offended if its not directed towards them.
B: Because they are insecure about it.
A: So they backlash at you for that.
B: 3 options; Backlash, Cry or they take it out on someone else.
A: Or they could just ignore.
B: ......
A: Did you just ignore me?
B: .....
A: I hate you.
C: WTF just happened.

Talk.

Fate has sued,
Everyone has mused.
The greeting fellow.

says I am confused.

Entertainment

Sins keep us alive.
As Vishnu watches live TV off the snakes back. To say drama makes him happy and dire situations are a result of boredom. As he is the god and the devil. Both creating love and agony at the same time.

Mom.

Pretending that each day is a mothers day. I do not speak a thousand words to greet what you paved me to be. Neither shall I judge to beg your forgiveness. All I have are these words of mine, to pledge to gift of thine. Accept as they come for they are mine. Here goes.
As shes the earth that reaps life. That nurture wisdom through dire nights. That mother earth was named as thy. While mother nature gives us plied. To salu my mother who is obliged, to lend a hand to innocent cry. O mother of mine you are so right, to ripe my purpose, for me to fly. — with Papiya Sengupta.

Why?

Timeless as time flies, so does my patience.
Priceless as price rise, so do my friends.
Painless as pain cries, so does my breathe.
As I die a day at a time.

Relentless and futile to things of life.
Talk as I lose attachment.
Materials to men to things that surround us.
To move past these is to day at a time.

To cause an effect.
To resonate an effect.
This effect prolongs life.
Domino effect prolongs life.
Movement moves life.

As the water ceases to move,
Life stops, death succumbs.
Stating life itself is a repercussion of the giant wave,
splashing towards ends with no means.

Why, The day this ceases is why cause and effect cease.
Halting wheels of time in adjacent to calming of waves.
Ending reaction, pretending inner peace.
Is why, life is motion of emotion of waves.
Waves when cease is why.
Inner peace when pleases life to its end.

Achieve

To hate is men to be,
To hate us is meant to be.

To fall is to death to be
To fall is to fly too high.

To men is to sly
The slight of meh in mine
To let is to give a tie.

To acheive is to fry.

To fallen heights.

Adhoori

Mujhe ek kahani likhni hai....meri zindagi ki. Adhoori hai filhaal. Dil bharke likhke main aa jaoonga tumhare pass. Filhaale yeh rooh bas darta hai. Kapta hai aur poochta hai ke main kaun aur kyun hoon. Ke jeena ka magzad dhoondh raha hoon main. Woh ab mila hai toh jeena shuru karna hai.

_Destined_

Values make a person who you are.
Values from people you admire. Your parents, teachers, situations, etc. And then we are in love. The significant other reflects on you and influences you. This changes for better or for worse if the significant other talks of the past as this past reflected on her. A push and pull of fate wuntill you either find a balance or are consumed by it.

The friend who lived

He was never alone. Dunno why but he had to do it for some reason. Guessing from what he wrote even am confused if I knew him too well. Guess not, We didn't really spend much time together. Thought after all this I have been through, he would be the only one to understand.

18-2-2009

Sometimes words just flow and I don't know why. I do in due time. Now I know.

Tibet.

 A one who wants a change should embrace what others have to say or he is no different from the ones that are running the current system.

Progress is a numbskull ideology. The desire for more creates greed and unsettles the balance of nature. Balance is satisfaction and the natural course of life. Curiosity towards the "Why" is a better development of the mind and spirit of the living, than the concept of progress which has its price of taking a toll on nature, that created us in the first place. Embracing and questioning nature is a balance that needs to be struck than the idea of progress. 

Change

As  baby as we are born. The first thing we do is cry. is to born with pain. And then the baby opens its eyes to adjust to the light. This light is painful. But then when we open our eyes, it is a change yes. Vulnerability to change. A selfless vulnerability. This is not changing the person we are but is just mere observatio. A discussion than an argument. This change or observation is a choice and then teh choice to see and look whereupon is still in our hands. And that where you choose to see is who you are. Is what you truly are. That letting yourself observe makes you vulnerable to the outside. Building insight hence intellectuality to observe and understand. And then the feelings decide and dictate your truself to see where you want to. 

To poise and remember.

A pain of some sort. A psychological pain that arises when you know what you believed in just shatters and you feel all emotions you have never felt. And that everything in your path affects you.

Futile.

Dire need of tire wisdom,
to write for past the future seldom
because thy sins result true beliefs
That values make no sense
and life matters nothing but impunity
of past future and present.

2 flocks for a feather

Bunned up in a bunch to surle up into soup