Contrary to popular belief, You don’t have a choice.

That Girl.

She said: “I know exactly what it feels like to be impotent. There is this great desire within me to produce a magnificent piece of art and yet when pen is to paper, I am stunted. Nothing happens and I feel a little bit of my soul shrivel up inside.”

Masquerade

Our daily lives are nothing but a less colourful version of a masquerade ball.

 Our faces taking the form of the masks one wears.

We mingle with friends, colleagues and associates, sometimes meeting a stranger in a new place.

 These seldom see the soul beneath the face, for each one we play a different role.

 Always smiling, mostly polite.

Our eyes hiding the darkness within.

We are all Cinderellas’ seeking a touch of magic with our disguised appendages.

Then we leave for home where midnight begins with the click of a lock, the unmasking inevitable.

The walls know our secrets and where there are no walls, those we call our own take their place.

The ocean is my dig, man.

So here I am ready set to go and with absolutely nothing on my mind. It seems to be one of those times when for some reason my mind experiences a total dry spell. Co-incidentally or maybe not so co-incidentally the dry spells seem to occur at the exact moments when I have access  to a computer. Nevertheless, I will endeavor A picture should suffice, I think.

 

 

The Dance.

Of  men and women

It is a strange thing

The dance they weave

An unchoreographed series of steps

Yet the closing is always the same

The irresistable passion that draws and binds

puts Methuselah to shame.

WORMHOLE

My Happy Place.

The spaces in between reality.

Where, for me, time ceases to exist. Where I’m in control of my destiny, my fears, my pain. The one place where I am free. Unbound by the many shackles holding me.

I revel in the timeless atmosphere, savouring the feel of  a transient rapture.

And then, space traveller that I am

 I move from wormhole to wormhole

subconsciously wishing all the while

for one moment more…

My Achilles heel

My Achilles heel. The bane of my life.

The one thing that should be insignificant but  isn’t. One thing that could alter the course of my destiny. Not a certainty by any means but a great probability.

I seem doomed. My nemesis is stronger than I.

He’s a pugnacious opponent, clinging to me with rottweilic tenacity.

How to fight an adversary who is a part of yourself albeit an alien one.

shocker

our days on earth are fleeting
a mere whisper on the breath of time
the fragility of the soul is akin to the papery wings of a butterfly
we delude ourselves with the fancy that our souls are ours to keep
but they donot belong to us
they belong to the creator
who will recall us at will
whether we be errant or willing
greater humankind dwells within a mirage of frivolity and base desire
hardly paying heed to pleas of his brother
for freedom, for justice, for the right to live in peace.
human life has become cheap
we die like flies being swatted by the giant hand of greed and intolerance.
the earth is shrouded in a great cloud of fear
slowly moving lower to engulf the hearts of the innocent
and where death is welcomed as an end to tortured existence.

The place we call home.

The world is not a candy coated astro. It is an inferno. burning bright with diverse culture. It is not all sweetness and neither is it pure. The world is vivid, it is raw. It is unbridled passion, there exists no perpetual calmness.

If only it was tooth decay instead.

I am certain that I am not the only person among the billions upon this planet who has wondered about the moral decay of humanity. It affects all of us. Even those among us who would rather be unexposed to such a torrent of licentious bullets being fired by the guns of corruption. The purity of the human soul is now an endangered species. Where even the smallest of children are exposed to the harsher, cruder realities of human existence. My soul wretches from being unwittingly drawn into this worse than cancerous plague that is slowly but surely blackening what was once… long, long ago; if not totally perfect but a relatively wholesome species of creation called humankind.