Love and hate.
Since childhood we are made to believe that love is a good energy and hate is a bad one. But still hate seems to have overpowered love. The hate in the world is way more than love. Countries hate countries, Class hate Class, Humans hate humans. Basically they all hate each other. The reason is the parameters of love that has been alienated to us. The love that has been taught to us is nothing but sheer hypocrisy. Actually the society is scared of love. Love is a very intense emotion. Love and hate are two sides of a same coin. They are the same energy that flows in a different forms. Hate and love are pure. There are no impurity in both of them. They both posses the power to m...
Right now I'm craving a coffee, much like the way I'm craving you. But like my coffee I shall not have you, even though every part of me is screaming that I should. A friend once told me that I should deprive myself of the things I want every so often, to remain clear about what exactly it is that I'm desiring. But you... are a rainbow. a glimmer of something beautiful that visits me from time to time, but i know that I have no say in your coming and going. I could shut my eyes but you would still be there stunning in your vibrant solitude. So I'll have myself a lemonade and I'll watch an old romantic movie tonight that I know I'd adore sharing with you. You don't know how my hearts ach...
I AM BROKEN
I BUILD MY WALLS HIGH
SO NOT TO DEPEND
OR SHOW WEAKNESS
SO WHEN I SAY
I NEED YOU!
DONT TAKE IT LIGHTLY
I AM TRUSTING YOU
TO CATCH ME WHEN I FALL
Five minutes left for midnight. Don't worry; you will be installed and cozy before the day is over.
The turned-on lamp rests on the night-stand, and both your book and mine remain closed, one on top of the other, as a playful prediction of what the moon would witness during the next few hours.
Everything is ready to welcome the morning sun... unlike me; I'm not ready. I wasn't ready when I heard you say that you felt like you had known me for far longer than you actually did.
Nonetheless, this cabin had already been the setting of a love story written by us-two and maybe, just maybe, it could be once more...
In the kitchen, a clean coffee-maker awaits next to a cou...
Dialogue/Monologue from the movie:
'6 Balloons' directed by Marja-Lewis Ryan
There's a boat in the middle of the ocean.
Tell yourself that you can drive the boat, even after you capsized.
Tell yourself that no one will notice.
Admit to yourself that you chose to walk down that dock.
Admit that you chose to get on that boat even though you knew you couldn't drive it.
Admit that you saw the rot and never fix it, that you had a chance to stay on dry land but instead, you boarded the boat again.
Admit that you never asked for help, even when it was offered to you.
And now, let go.
We're on the same boat.
You are on the same boat.
You are on the sam...
why why why
drink drink drink
I didn’t see
I felt fear
I felt tears
anxious for thee
you were sirened away
I hope you’re okay
why why why
drink drink drink
What is poetry?//
is made out of,
those unanswered questions,
the aesthetic looking cup of coffee,
the sun setting,
with hues of orange and yellow in the sky,
the hesitation before confessing your love,
the empty pages of a diary,
the tick tocks of the clock, on a monotonous night,
the feeling of bursting into tears,
the half open window facing the sea,
the feeling of being alone,
the memories with someone special,
your world tour plan,
your dream apartment in Paris,
your reasons for being happy.
There is so much,
in this world, out of which we can build poetry.
when I sit down to write,
I come back to us.
Because, out of all forms o...
Sometime I change my mind about people,
Sometime I change my mind about myself.
Sometime I like things I thought I'd hate and sometime I
grow to hate things I used to love.
Sometime i grow to hate things I used to love.
Sometime I cant't make up my mind because I don't like any
of the option and sometime it's because I like all of them
No one has everything figured out, but that's called, living
and it means we're real.
_ Mahi Jadhav.
I am certainly learning the art of patience. The state is taking their time deciding if I am eligible for disability or not. I have only been waiting 4 years.
More doctors appointments coming up this fall. I am also beginning a 10 week microdosing regiments with psilocybin (magic Mushrooms). Back in December it took me from suicidal to passionate. I have now gradually (with doctor’s help) gotten off of two anti depressants and two kinds of pain pills. I am freeing myself from Big Pharma and feeling so much better, gradually.
If I don’t get disability though, I’m not sure where I’ll be able to live, how I’ll even get through any more. I’ve just been hanging on, barely. 2 months, why does it...
The world is mostly like pancake, my dear.
It’s only exception is its shape.
but there are parts sweet, salty and bland.
There are parts unchartered. There are parts consumed and never given back.
Late that night I saw this man,
Covered in what I would like to call,
An unwelcoming shroud.
Huddled under the stairway,
Near the absent-minded neon sign,
He imbibed this world
With a pinch of his solution.
His beady eyes trying to interpret,
Each person that gushed out
In front of him, from the lifeline
Of this morbid city.
I stopped there and met his glance,
Vacant enough to give me a sense
Of strange belonging.
He looked at me, smiled and sniffed
From the piece of rag,
Crumpled up in his palms,
Let out a deep sigh and gurgling laughter.
And I am sure I heard him say.
Look all you want but I have
The solution that you search for.
With every sip of every drop,
my horizon begins to shrink.
Reality with fantasy
become more blurred
with every drink.
I got complacent.
Apologies, it's been a while.
The 24th of April, the year 2018-
My last drink. I struggled, we all do. Success.
I got complacent. I stopped struggling, stopped thinking.
It snuck up on me.
Isn't it funny how that happens? You can see it coming but only when it's too late.
Much too late.
I'm starting over. Again.
It's exhausting. It's depressing. It feels like failure. It feels like I'm worthless; can't be normal. But I feel. That's worth something, right?
I'll keep struggling, though. I'm told it gets better so I'm holding on to that... I think that's called being "hopeful."
We had just started talking,
And I did not realise when
She became my favourite song
She became a habit,
A drug, a necessity from a luxury,
The warmth in my breath, the morning mist,
The pathway I know like the back of my hand, a cigarette at night,
The everyday sounds
Cutlery and crockery clinking
Pots and pans tinkering
Aroma of spices
Splashing of water
Bickering of barista
Vague and hurried good mornings
Jingling of wind chimes hanging in doorway
Shutting doors and whispering maids
Some no sense songs in the background
Makes me concentrate well
Makes sense of every word I write
Or scribble even on a paper napkin