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Poetry
This is a literary review of my work, offering a taste of my perspective.
Thank you for taking the time to read my poems.
Please feel free to leave a comment by sending an email to information@manasvallabh.com.
"A shiny object" Courtesy: Manas Vallabh
The star as it appears against the darkness,
I wonder why it gives away its brightness -
Twinkling and sparkling in all of the imagery,
So to prove we don’t need a change in scenery?
I keep questioning the motives of brilliance,
As if all of us are in need of some alliance -
The way a star less often ceases from being a star,
We realize it needs alot less of effort to set the bar.
Times we had and times well spent,
Including the value of the frugality, resplendent,
In all of the privileges of that we are sure -
We are at leisure, seeking pleasure of a better measure.
As a course of repetition that we were to learn,
The way of examples set through generations,
It appears that it is precisely a reward we earn,
When the sight pleases in all of the visualizations.
As seen in a constellation worthy of impression,
With comrades, relentless and in progression,
Proving an age of acceptance is not at best, underlined,
And that there is more to us than being stars aligned.
Crunch times – boiling and melting points,
In languages unknown but we are to shine,
Among a thousand stars that each self-appoints,
A nominal head although lucid to an appreciating enclosure of a shrine.
Amazed at what a declaration of it seems like,
As if a light emitting diode needs access to a spike,
In current, and throws at us a glaring reality,
Explaining to us that distance is in subjective enormity –
I say this with all of that I know is honest,
As mentioned with all of the brilliance and its sparkle,
A star is a not a provision for the work of a sun,
For the discipline and illumination of its entire system.
It goes to show only one little unnoticeable aspect,
Of that we can learn for free, of stars and acknowledge the same,
When a glaring realization strikes that you do not expect,
The application may not be as simple! What a shame!
Also, a note to make that is not to be ignored -
The metrics are about the same as approached,
Now, that is not a matter of just substance,
When to me, I measure and understand distance.
"Sticks, can be evil"
"Sticks, can be evil"
"Sticks, can be evil"
I feel a little choppy today,
But so do waters in the ocean,
That go freaky in a way,
To trouble your existence.
And I expect a perfect storm.
Then a miracle happens –
I change, and feel different,
But so do the waters,
In the middle of the ocean,
When they stop clashing!
So, it happened today.
I could have pulled the shutters down,
When and with all of your excuses or reasons,
To put me down, and,
That, you can feel,
A little better, in your arrogance,
On a pretext of an exercise,
In teaching me a lesson.
I get to understand that,
To put you in your place,
In day or night –
It is quite easy.
Just so you realize and it goes without saying –
With a pointed nail,
When I say, I can
Pick your rising pretense,
As a moody reaction – Anytime and anywhere.
You may say I am young,
And have an advantage!
Well, I have to be honest –
I am knowledgeable,
A gift that many obsess about but don’t possess,
And it bothers you,
From what I see.
And you show me in many different ways,
"The displeasure".
Make no mistake, I can be just like you.
While you may be having a good time,
Hiding in the dark and you are up for some fun,
I realize – I can do too!
As you seem determined,
To make things happen as you please,
And when you fail every single time,
I can make it seem easy,
By sticking to the basics and make it evident!
Somehow,
It’s a secret you will not know!
But, what you should know
Is that,
It’s about the wicked game,
You play, behind my back,
And it matters to you,
Not how you play,
But if you win or lose.
Alas! On this day I decide to be about a cause,
And beat you at being better.
Your reason for revenge,
Fails you and you now seem,
Lost on a day,
That can be even more beautiful.
It is Valentine’s day, and I have a few nice words to say –
I am what I am! Now, that is nice enough.
I will change, make no excuse,
When I see a reason and a perfect time,
And when I see fit.
I am at the mercy of none,
And I am well in my limit,
When I claim that you are like any other,
In my pursuit of an extra-ordinary life.
Now challenge that just for today – as an exercise,
Son of a gun!
If not, you may make a quick note,
On taking a crash course: "How to teach dummies to get a life"
Courtesy: Manas Vallabh
“Carve”
"Sticks, can be evil"
"Sticks, can be evil"
To sense the heat in the pace of creation, unhalted,
As such it is the flood in the greatness – uninhibited,
When our eyes engage with the artist so delighted,
Of what has been accomplished with no hesitation.
An artist’s approach to the work and the process,
So as to begin with the creation, in small bits,
Stone matching stone, as such to say,
And the pieces, with which the creation separates,
We see the creation, the stone, as carved to a shape of perfection,
From models of people or from sheer imagination,
Set out to bring a huge change in perception,
In the viewer, with a presence, as with a projection.
Past incidents of interest under a circumstance,
From all the resources, a few found unselected,
Within an imperfect assembly of people captured,
From a world, with quite a disarray in stance,
It can be believed that the source and motivation,
May be, a few times, at a lead of aberration.
It is known that expression as for experiments,
Attribute success to many such elements,
And with the arrival of a particular echo,
In thought and with that, a manner inspired,
We explore sides as it would be promptly said –
‘Leaving some under process and unfinished’.
Opportunity that has come of it, not in proof,
Where an arrest in carving makes it, in due,
To the relatable time at hand and in motion,
Expands all imaginable possibilities of fortune.
To the contrary,
The artist with a creative intent measures the worth,
Of a part of his creation left undone and puts forth,
The under- applied or aptly set aside, unfinished work of art,
Definitely knowing where to end and of course its start,
With all of the motives that can’t be recognized now,
Putting the view unsettled with the know-how,
While leaving for speculation a few mysteries,
In the name of hidden signs of creative liberties.
Courtesy: Manas Vallabh
“hair for grown-ups”
(A little of untoward humour)
Then, being opposite,
To the sites as,
Are the number of heads,
In emptiness, also in abundance,
When a closer look suggests,
Lack of hair, appearing,
And amounting to having,
None of any progress.
In capability of and being as a mark,
I see hair carrying an expression,
Of stimulation and its intention,
As we measure with thickness,
Of it, being found in all likeliness.
A deeper insight would be,
Its absence from the area –
An easy take-off space for ideas,
And their easy access, at least into,
A creative space open,
For graffiti,
From what I see, as being on top of a head.
Ah- Ah, don’t even think of it,
As just another joke and something,
Which can be made fun of,
While as I see, we may have warriors,
Down to the make,
Against, on an irksome remark,
And Dishoom –
Down, down and down.
Evil is dead.
On second thoughts,
Hair and its growth,
Are in connection,
To establishment of,
Inheritance and it being
Effectively propagated.
In other words –
DNA.
I certainly have to apologize,
If, I, in anyway indicate at,
For my lack of sensitivity,
In calling, having thick hair,
As a sign of manliness,
Lest we forget amazons.
And hence I comment –
Well, it is not exactly my opinion,
But to say in least words,
That,
Beautiful long hair in women,
Running from her scalp,
To her waist,
Makes an appearance,
Even more adventurous.
A shout out –
To,
The brave, the braver and,
The bravest –
For the people,
Succumbing to baldness,
And,
For those moments,
When a wig falls off.
Courtesy: Manas Vallabh
“A few words of encouragement”
Courtesy: Manas Vallabh
When young -
Talk big, but don’t lie.
Talk slow with intent, yet with no compromise.
Talk fast, but be understood.
Sometimes, just be silent.
Eliminate dishonesty in words and look in honesty -
You may find perfect vision.
To say,
You may fail but can rise again, and see perfection.
You may fall but can walk again, and see progress.
You may hibernate momentarily but can dream big, and see future.
Also, sometimes, one can fail to be attentive.
And may miss an unessential moment.
But, when a momentous moment passes,
And you are at a pause in attention,
It makes you submit in realisation,
That a thousand lifetimes may not level up,
To the cause of an implied significance,
In deliberating on an imperfection that arrived at a price.
It is fair to call ‘Perfection’ - its absence and its presence,
And necessarily the mismatch,
To be both a boon and a bane.
Peace.
Clearly, an under appreciated asset,
Has to be an outlook -
When you see in every completed part, a flaw.
In every finished work of art, a revision.
And hear in every composition of music, a better match.
We lament -
Sometimes, perfection is not good enough,
But most often it is a becoming of us.
In retrospection -
The closest work to perfect drama, needs rehearsal.
The comfort in winning, comes from practice.
The clenching of the top spot, begs for acumen.
And all this becomes even better with experience.
Then, comes spontaneity.
Sometimes, we are to be unplanned.
And that brings to attention an asset in discovery.
Now, to reveal this discovery is a sacrilege.
Yet, to be open, repetition is to make perfect.
Furthermore, its importance in being a sinner,
As much as it is a thought, presents its prevalence.
Devoid of atonement. Hidden in attainment.
And then, in rewards and recollections.
Away from all of that is a sin,
Forgotten and forgiven,
When once, in a way, to explore new horizons,
Mattering most, is to become of diligence in remaining afloat,
With a balanced temperament and with,
A doctored patience.
To be exact. For a moment -
Forget any plans. Consider it to be just a phase in time.
And it has to become a habit,
Of acceptance.
And more often, a make in and of preparation.
No other action is more of a success.
Generally,
To set sail on waters, an ounce of courage initially,
More than effort is needed.
And,
To see dreams become real,
We strive to remain ambitious and focused.
Repetition and remembrance.
Reminder in reoccurrence.
Nevertheless - “Perfection’.
Or so, it is called.
There are to it, many methods,
In accomplishment,
And when you fancy a desire,
That is to be fulfilled,
Be set on your turf of strength,
Hone skills, and exercise your wit.
Envision. Empower. Engage.
Encouragement never fails.
But character does.
A myth. A legend.
A perfect tale,
Of,
Estrangement from inhibitions and distractions.
A pursuit of excellence.
“Woman”
Courtesy: Manas Vallabh
A woman is the absence of emptiness.
A connection.
An establishment.
A cause of rise.
A course to rise.
All but know a mother, a sister, a wife and a daughter, as she is!
She is a mission, and worthy of it!
She is a plague and subjected to it.
A mere woman on a set night is more than a nightmare.
She is a devil incumbent. A lover induced.
A seductress. A dream. A fantasy.
Everything about her is odd although including her is becoming even.
We, us and I. An inclusion.
A woman. A woman. A woman.
A soothing word. Not just a word. She is more than just a given word.
Women. A plurality. Yet, one.
A gift. A surprise.
And a gentle request made is to woo her gently.
She details life which excludes -
Power and knowledge.
A rhyme and a reason.
Peace. War. And a transition.
Being in awe and beyond.
She is an elemental vibe creation.
She is a vital object and is a miracle that which belongs to a place with none of any disproportion.
There is no mercy.
A cut above. A cut below.
A balancer.
A boss.
That which she claims, a revenge is always hers!
A villain.
A benefactor.
A factor of kindness when a man genuflects!
A better half of a man.
She wields an immersive expression that which causes emotion, feeling and devotion.
A capital surrender in a man.
A comparative realisation.
A superlative phenomenon.
She is of an emboldened colour.
She is a figure.
She is a head in a place of topical gravity.
She is blunt in appreciable and explicable equations.
She is both in equality versus in equanimity.
She is a rapid exchange. Her jaw moves with her. And, there is silence. On a run, bolt. A rampage.
She is an epitome of humankind.
She reckons herself of being a paragon.
In contrast, a man is at a beckoning of a future with her. Unlike his nature, if not for her.
She is a star; And, a planet. She makes a home. Simply as we say on earth - Mother Nature.
She is a rainbow. More than just evaporation.
She is sunshine at sunrise and sunshine at sunset.
A wave. A parody. An affliction.
A queen in her world of drama.
A show claiming to be of magnanimity.
A secret- a galant whisper.
A measure - a penultimate spin in objectification.
A trophy - an ultimate applause.
She is a woman. And remains undefeated.
In character. In accordance. In a subjective succumbing of silence.
She in flight, is a cry.
She is all of forgiveness and she is a clown in reminder.
In mistakes, she is a forceful impact.
She is an impression. An unwavering supporter.
A decency in exclamation.
A pull and a push.
A branch and a root.
Of a family tree and off of it.
Her affection is a translator and is translucent as she is in her periodicity.
She is nimble in her catch about a time of negligence.
For herself, in all her selfishness and self-centredness - she belongs in wisdom and prudence.
Her beauty - she knows of her foot and her hand.
Of her fingers, toes and her nails.
She engages in flattery and sticks to every uttered word in compliment.
A woman in all honesty must be considered to be an essence.
And a man transcends his remark of his ability to be a part of her life.
She is a goddess to a mere mortal man. Antithetically, a bane.
She is a modified ingenuity. She makes-up for lost time.
She debates with herself in the presence and absence of a man, a woman, a boy, a girl and a family.
She corrects but doesn’t stand corrected.
She poses but not in an approximation.
She is the length and breadth of a lifetime.
Now, a woman has myriad estimations.
Some at a price. Some being a prize.
She is in necessity of an engaging elimination then becoming a reason for treason.
She is in proximity of an opposite postulation then becoming a resource.
All in all, she is a force.
She is a fan and also demands fandom.
With or without her, she is in life and she is in death.
She is a name. A principle of progress. A saviour of reputation.
She is an expert driver of argument. An unbeaten champion.
A companion.
A desire of a structured phase.
A medium of communication.
A vision. A giver. A smile in introspection.
All of this in actuality occurs only if she concurs.
We are at her sometimes relevant and sometimes irrelevant encouragement.
And she abides by no law,
In inspection, and in retrospection, by code or conduct.
She is in all humour a hidden criminal creeping in all of that is innocent.
And that is in a man, she is a pleasing resonance.
She is a form in becoming a close act of circular manifestation.
Now, more than a form in woman is still a woman.
A woman. A prayer. A submission.
There is none of a blame game without her.
In acceptance and in rejection.
Abraca Dabra! Life without woman is a magical experience fading away and its recollection comes to matter when the trick is played again.
I go on and on. Yet, women have an end ?
Without me, my definition of my woman ceases to exist.
A woman of mine is my statement.
You may agree or disagree!
She is a treasure. She is a specific reason for existence.
She is what she is ! A woman- a blessing in disguise.
As a note,
I must mention she is this woman to me as in adolescence of my relevant space.
“A licence”
Courtesy: Manas Vallabh
I should engage with you in a stimulating conversation,
That could connect you into worlds of fortunate association.
Then, I should praise your appropriate nose dive into my invention,
That couldn’t be more at a bone of contention.
There can be silence about the magical experience,
As being smooth, at a disregard for a brief substantiation,
In a selective disapproval of an extensive elimination,
On a drive of a point, mostly at lowkey interference.
Please forgive my innocence, in rounding off on a calculation,
That you are at a place in being of acceptance to my estimation,
Of a command followed by a witness in life of allowed issuance,
Around a subject of a discord and toiling at a word in abeyance.
Abrupt in arranging the sound of a much-liked symphony,
Uttering that word around which the person had an epiphany,
Can be made obsolete now, when it comes to be a reckless tragedy,
As I reckon with an alignment in precedence being a relative remedy.
A permission can be of a given nature, when the upcoming existence,
Of that I am sure, at a particular destination of relevance,
Begins to be as it becomes a repetitive tantalising experience,
And that which entails is a sprout of astounding allegiance.
A medium of communication that reeks in expansion of paranoia,
Under a pretext of simulation about life lessons being in cultivation,
And we being subjected to various insinuations of phobia,
Keep enhancing a distant yet a largely looming expectation.
When the whole world turns to the unfortunate mockingbird,
Willing to save the less opportune of being in a misdirected herd,
As amusing as it is, it being a menial yet fancy-looking minion,
In that expectation of it in grand humour being a champion.
In a batch of commands piled up at extreme bits of sublime,
The order is then implemented with less fanfare this time,
As the meaningful luxury of limitlessness is taken off prime,
And nobody now is prepared to spend even a freaking dime.
Why then all the hullabaloo as part of the bamboozlement?
I guess it is to be a stereotypical embrace of measurement,
In an exhibition of strength and a test of existing caliber,
To prove “the bird” is as normal, in any nest, at scheduled labour.
“The One - Not in revenge”
Courtesy: Manas Vallabh
Clone - and arrive at a limitation.
We are none to picture it as a transgression.
Clause - to be held as an imitation.
Easy to say it is a result of panic from annihilation.
Quote - a dialogue from a venture.
We are none to carry regret from that adventure.
Enter - a world of envious rapture.
Easy to say it is a presence of devious expenditure.
Dubious - the extremism in calculative aperture.
We are none to blame it on miscellaneous outward treasure.
Exit - to reach a place of known cerebral signature.
Easy to say it in an estimation of spatial caricature.
A rating given to the candidate performing in this exercise appeals to the masses as a raging enactment of situational bias in an environment set for her to thrive and succeed.
She then takes a step below to engage in a mode of communication, as referring to a gamut of knowledge on eligibility, and an approximation of a satisfied criteria, with which she decides to conclude into a ‘vision in vision’ approximation fulfilling an essential cause.
The cause - the seminal existence of life - While some may be considering the shallowness of the occurring event, there is a sorting in the order of the next possible steps that is inherently taking place in the background and which reveals itself as an evidence resulting from reasoning as a natural progression in substitution but not complete elimination of the old order.
By starting at this assumption that the said event has a climax of the order with regard of it being old or new, whereby analysis presents a candidate as ‘The One’ and marking the identity of her stature as a subsistence in all of us, a subject and being relative to the processing of the next candidate, when the same analysis, on the face of it suggests in the initial assembly of information that the purpose may not be totally defeated. And this occurrence significantly reduces the direction of the event towards an undesirable end.
With the information gathered as in calling the subject - ‘The One’ is in actuality, one of the many versions of the chosen procedure. As we further point out, ourselves being at a step, to be at a place of directorial menace, the event of the step, subsides into a disappearing distortion and is thrown out of existence. That being said, this theory can be real but extinct? Or, it cannot be in this captivating engagement of the unreal - think again – While we are at an observational point of a subsiding step – a known vision enables a previous announcement and explains why this step is considered non-imaginary! It is also observed that an experiment with a candidate is for a fact demanding a “reaction” at a place of non-existence of an old version of the candidate, as well as, the next or other eligible candidates i.e. to be at an imaginary step but later pronounced as known to exist and of course real. This, as a proceeding towards a discovery of the so called non-imaginary step evicts the non-existence of the combinational theory of it being real and extinct, pushing towards the realization of the subject- ‘The One’ existing as with an evidence. Thus, a real step has been placed and is of conclusive matter.
‘The One’ does exist as we say! We may also say that ‘The One’ has to exist. Now, having a destination demands complete control over every step taken with or without external interference. As the steps are taken and with progression, the realization that external interference to some extent becomes favourable and is considered a way of ‘The One’ being inclusive to factors established as an outside of preliminary analysis or for that matter, outside of thought, becoming even more forthright and evident.
Resemblance in the endurance, in forming of these concrete steps should be a raging enactment of ‘The One’. This comes from the reasoning that ‘The One’ has previous versions and may have future versions as well. But, there will only be one - ‘The One’ as a candidate. This also means that we are to completely eliminate the region as well as the annotation of the said direction of every version executed at a particular phase. Thus, spatial recognition of the old versions of ‘The One’ are at a place of elimination and makes way for disappearing distortion with subsiding subsequent steps.
Somehow, we may define this process to be modular in elimination. And, as and when re-executed the process becomes modular in initiation. That's when in future, an old version of the candidate executes her order of steps and reads this on a bench outside of an architectural marvel in structure and says in a 'how not to be funny' manner to her present self " Would you do that for me?"
"Ofcourse" - Says her human version with heartfelt emotions rolling down!
“Dividends on equity”
“Dividends on equity”
“Dividends on equity”
Appreciated in uniformity and clarity,
Existing of that there are issues in unity,
Addressed as a partition of equality,
What matter is of service to brevity?
An announcement made subjective,
Understanding the worth of sacrifice,
At a line crossed beyond an edifice,
For a reward in offer to be as votive.
She – shown as charmingly consistent,
For over half her age and still persistent,
In choosing ample times of adventure,
As seen in her, light shines easily for sure.
Out on a conquest she then is to depart,
Encouraged being an elementary part,
Of a camp having a celebratory start,
At embracing all of it, as being a class apart.
It is in this exercise of influence,
Of being an icon in prominence,
She supports on request a thought,
Of courage, a moment brought!
You may ask what is the mystery?
By standing tall, on her feet, at liberty,
In that was a view having dignity.
Else, in her claim being in adversity,
There seemed no evident animosity.
Having fought tooth and nail,
Cutting out one too many proud a tail,
And told in a casual tone, a tale,
Of birds and bees that never fail,
You know a life’s merry objective,
And all of its revelry in being creative –
A bizarre juncture, at best expressive,
Begins being found in a valued missive.
"Excuse"
“Dividends on equity”
“Dividends on equity”
There is nothing new, in you being bold,
You know the ways of the world.
It’s your name that makes it breezy,
In addition to making it seem easy-peezy.
You don’t want my wish fulfilled,
No problemo! You are to be bedazzled,
By everything you don’t want happening!
There is a great deal of it to be surprising.
Believe me I am a very positive person,
I can define black holes not in question,
And act as if it was just a mere coincidence,
While you are calculating the distance.
When you send rovers to mars as a mission,
Yes sir, a mission is obviously a mission!
It’s like when it rains, there is pouring water,
Flowing all the way down into the gutter.
Don’t get me wrong, I can express my view,
An honest opinion, as long as it is due –
Wake up sunshine, look at the morning dew,
On a leaf not in green but another hue.
I am sold and so are you! The only dissimilarity –
I totally agree that you sold your soul,
And that your soul is now worth a shoe sole,
Grated by dishonesty, well told in equanimity.
I just like thrash talk in my pass time,
You know I am preparing to be a part time clown-
I’ll tell you another joke that will be blown,
Your pant has a zip going down for a dime.
I wonder how many times I can roast,
All of the thought of you being a toast,
Yes, a toast as in being burnt and rotten,
You understand all this will be forgotten.
Do you think my attempt at being funny,
Will get me a paisa, a cent or can I say a penny?
Again, for all that is said to be made a mockery,
Is a programme not out to be in sorcery?
Don’t get me wrong there is a likelihood,
Of you becoming a log of silent wood,
Cut out of a rather tall felled tree,
Now thrown aside and burning for free.
The wood catches fire, and so do words,
Of well-intended people for all its worth,
My advice to you is keep away the swords,
For the bones of many, tasted well in broth.
It is not me saying all this for comprehension,
History proves all this in apprehension,
So does, the present and so will the future,
If not for my odd words of adventure.
It is just my rant as I stand corrected,
It is not you, it's just me in a position,
Able to express affection that is resurrected,
By your understanding disposition.
I hope I can begin the way towards a save,
Of more than a life or two that gave,
Merit and kindness spread as a reason,
To celebrate a loss contradicting treason.
Now, you ask me why have lost words in a write-up?
It makes sense to me so as you are to be disposed,
At a practice of a thought that is made as a set-up,
With all of the other concerns of it getting submerged.
Let’s play all of it with a little bit of music,
Do you hear any of it being in logic?
The intent in it is as a composition,
Of lame excuses that are for consideration.
"Exposure"
“Dividends on equity”
"A random thought"
You can’t tell just another simple story,
That has mysteries running within history,
Of the lead who solves merciless atrocities,
As if it is not at all a matter of abilities.
I say it with a quiet reference to the page,
Beginning with yet another word of pointless rage,
And yes, it comes with its own approach,
About a territory that is not to be under encroach.
What is said is not what is understood,
What has transpired is not what is planned,
What is in the present is what we approached,
But all these are not to be where from I stood!
You, meaning the hurt in the story to be narrated,
Wild, free and careless as where time belonged,
And the background is very close to being heavy,
Now, that is not at all to be my matter of envy.
I want to say with all that is honestly expressed,
There is such a thing as transparent communication,
While it does solve with a clear agenda announced –
We say that it is clearly quite an expectation.
It is a point of manipulation you are made belong,
In a typical setting luring you into a story not long,
That needs to be narrated as a precursor to a fight,
With you contributing to all that is in sight.
See, what clear expression can bring to you,
All that you have experienced in life I am sure,
Go find a reason for you to be in exposure,
And the rest is all history as we are to make do!
"A random thought"
"We are obsessed with goals"
"A random thought"
I feel bigger than the moment -
Finding at a confluence of our journeys,
And coming closer to the stars
In your eyes, as seen in my vision.
Bigger and louder on the beat,
In my mind you have a glorious seat,
Can you see me at, from a distance,
As good, bad or even the ugly?
A mixed bag of emotions I carry,
A thought or two that slip away,
When I make new memories,
Of you, forgive me to be courageous.
The message can't be any clearer,
There are favourites that you have,
And I make part of the same thought,
As mine, is there even a doubt?
"Under control"
"We are obsessed with goals"
"We are obsessed with goals"
The universe is in my mind,
Consciousness relentless,
Early to find the right time,
I begin on an egotistical method.
To keep under the thumb, spirit,
Of every rise and fall,
In hindsight and blind sight,
And of all that I overcame,
There is still a question of control!
Lose control over you, and me,
In it everyone involved,
With no spaces in thought,
And life rendered as it flowed –
There is an expectation,
To form a realization,
Of finding oneself and lend ear,
To opinions of third parties,
As well as life lessons learnt by them,
And at that point,
Align with the thought process,
Of one and all who think,
They have an 'on par' experience of life.
If after a read of this concern,
I say this is not my voice,
And is a statement as followed
By a stranger advising me
On just another random occasion
At the end of the day
To “do something always that,
You can control” – how eager will
You be to agree?
Based on an analysis, I would,
Clearly pay attention to the context,
And thank the stranger immensely
For the advice and walk my way!
Do you agree?
If not, you may be impacted by,
the lack of control! Or having too much
of it..
"We are obsessed with goals"
"We are obsessed with goals"
"We are obsessed with goals"
Consider:
"We know, we must take a shower and so, we use the washroom."
I succeed,
To understand that the primary goal was to take a shower and the secondary goal accomplished along side was to use the washroom.
But,
We are not to confuse it with another claim that we have a washroom available and so, the intent of taking a shower in the washroom was facilitated.
We are also not to confuse it with yet another claim that we made having a washroom available to shower, only.
Else, we could shower elsewhere. Or, it could be useful for another adventure.
Now, we understand that the goal is to take a shower, while, building a washroom, must have been a bigger goal, and was to arrange for the smaller goals i.e. the use.
So, the smaller goals such as each goal being an accomplishment of taking a shower was achievable along with the bigger goal of completion of building a washroom ahead of time. Also, their cause and effect being validated, was all part of the ambitious vision.
One would go bonkers if I quote:
"The obsession with smaller goals and their accomplishment in repetition was made possible only by the grand scheme."
Extrapolating the quote, we extend it to another quote:
"Daily life in repetition is made possible and is easier if we are ahead in an ambition to achieve and facilitate."
Note: To prove that there is anything wrong with obsession in achieving goals is an exaggeration. And it, in general is pardonable to a fair limit.
This is an extensive thought.
Hence, proved.
"Tear"
Estranged in manner, a toast,
Although to put in the form of a roast,
As expected we find a winner,
In the one who speaks aloud thoughts, becoming a sinner!
Well, as deemed there are great expectations,
In paid scoops of a creamy pie and all its adulations,
And the one who succumbs to all of its taste,
In a grand series of undulated edges, will not be in waste!
Saying aloud announcements, loud enough for a scream,
We as disposed are to be in a creamily postulated dream.
The waves of voice and it's form not forgetting intonation,
We, well in for it, there being signs of no indignation.
Guess? Guess, again. The clock is ticking,
Oh, we are in for a surprise and agree to be clicking!
Now, I remember the day so well, patchs of rain and drain,
The clout and the sin that wins the day, seemed no strain.
There are fears, emotions flying high,
Just in as a sign of relief - an expected deep sigh,
And coming undone in a vapourization of tears that stream,
From eyes, carrying salty waters in a nightmarish dream.
Left unsaid, in an epic battle of a restrictedly falling tear,
When the voice cracked, all to be heard and opting out of fear-.
In a toast becoming a roast of oneself to be made clear,
Hurting and becoming a stabbing against all like a spear!
"Falsification"
A recall occurs and the rise is already in place,
Each and every time - adjoining space,
And the elements which are aptly concise,
Making an appeal to an ego of mountain size.
Wonder and must you may, as they say,
Making hay in the upcoming days, hearsay,
It gets better and better each day,
Almost, as if, it all is forever to stay.
Who is to deny the necessity to stray?
We pretend and pretence is not at all the way..
Are we to honestly be swell as well ? So be dust to clay!
Go figure, all we need in immediate aggression to slay.
Ready or not, it is a boon in disguise! Be as you are and lay!
If,
There is such a thing as greatness,
And we are to venture into these matters in all fairness -
The eye meets with an illusion,
Once, said to be an attraction,
And that which betrays and comes,
As it may be, and as it should be, welcoming,
- a scope, a vision and a visionary!
Else if, we have
A falsification of greatness as the only medium,
That can be entrapped into a void - clearly not in modicum,
And exercised in an absurd and immutable conundrum,
For the erudite - as a pathway to a paradigm.
Else, we have
The rise to greatness and fall into the game of fame,
As your eye watches the funniness in all of the shame,
And as we understand, it is the falsification of a perfect fit,
In time, nearly of all those in it that rightly so leisurely sit.
"A flow"
To break it down -
Comply with policies,
And regulations which,
Apply a strategy or two.
What works against it
Is the process, tedious
And labourious, to confirm
The title, and then to conform.
If you are free in mind,
It implies you are free everywhere..
Tested and tried -
It is the methodical disassembly,
Of the ideas,
With practicals,
Research and analysis.
Accept nothing,
Lend blind sightedness,
And execute working
Against a displeasure -
Outcomes are shown
To be a big extent of solutions,
That can be provided.
Edgy or not,
Behave or don't,
There is hardly,
A reward for best behaviour!
Not on field or off?
The so-called experts
With contextual pretense,
To safeguard the moderate,
Apply boundaries. Is that,
Even an excuse ?
Go with the flow!
What should be appropriate?
Is there a guide to follow,
For the flow of a mindful action?
Free or not! I fail to disagree!
Falling into the greatness,
With a less restrictive flow,
In the world of,
Do's and Dont's,
Again ?
“Wrong, are you?”
It takes practice to be wrong,
And to be expressed rather in funniness,
While you are part of a club of members,
Whose duty is to commit mistakes..
When luck partly plays,
As a matter of probability,
With all the chances that it favours,
And well, with you in the lost causes,
I hear another one of the sounds,
When donkey long stories end,
And with it the mention of the name,
A realization occurs to me–
You are right most often,
And I like being wrong sometimes!
Oh, you were just playing a game of chess,
And it takes a lot of strategy, to say,
That you lose in style, and become,
The center of professional reviews!
I know for sure you will like it,
When you see the view,
Of that which is lost in life,
And in general the lost ways!
I will object to whatever you think,
It may seem to be wrong to you,
I will still persist and pursue,
By manners that misconstrue,
The meaning of your misgivings,
That which is to be understated
And while, there is a word or two,
To be sustained or overruled!
Now, don’t get vitriolic, it is just,
A composition of plug and play,
And you being part of a grand scheme,
To honour the progress in a drag race!
You can make my day and I,
Can still complain –
I may not, that is another state,
Of my existence I don’t,
Want to reveal and make defunct..
“A shadow of a memory”
At a state defined by its momentary pleasure,
Under and beyond a stance of palpable measure,
I fail to begin in movement but move in memories,
The torrents of which may abide or disobey the construct!
It is clear in the tracks of the pursuit flagged,
Above, there may have been a nurturing staged,
To connect what is mine with what is already mine,
And never to be at a space of which, less is fine!
And then in the fabulous arrival of an inception,
The growth is kept into being aligned in diction –
The disconnect in the disapproval of exertion,
Should be enforced into bundles of contradiction!
.
What is ours is never out in the departure –
Of the ages that come to suggest it for sure,
I wonder if the existence of a dominion,
Is surpassing the desire to belong, in all opinion!
The precision in course of the ins and outs,
As simply advised of it is its own nature of doubts,
Put across in contention, of reception,
And in understanding the detailed consumption!
Keep at it, as comes of it, the fragility of elevation,
Whilst less is to be known of its chaos and deviation,
And to understand is, of having keen mindfulness,
Set into the places that are best away from callousness!
"Bonne chance"
And I could choose to casually misinterpret.
Life is about a perspective,
What I see I process! Then, I understand and believe.
I would –
Change opinion, change myself,
Change thoughts, change outcomes.
But, reality surfaces.
It is not the same as having a façade,
For as long as I live.
Guile,
And being in disguise – leads to a struggle,
And further, puts me in ambiguity.
Again,
Introspect! Then structure an outward narrative,
Around it. It can be detrimental.
These two oppose alignment of thought,
When used together and also create doubt,
Leaving me empty.
Where do I run for solace?
Run to my past – I find it dirty,
I would crumble and fall to my feet.
Why?
Then, should I apologize to myself?
I would reason myself out of a disappointing situation.
I could convince myself
And
Force myself into a world of pomp and show.
All the gloss. All of the spectacular days.
I could colour myself with stability and dominance.
But,
When on a way of tragic thoughts,
Coming from past, present or the future,
I could break.
I could disassemble my marshalled,
Time bound and organized thoughts.
I see it as a huge risk!
It is definitely a hurdle. But, it is better than living a lie.
What I see I process!
When honesty and forthrightness are given a chance,
The results of positivity blanket an outside narrative.
So I begin.
I painted the walls.
It is in the shade of your favourite t-shirt.
I see this as venturing into a world of yours!
All, to the room. I couldn’t find an end.
It had a door and a window. They never fail.
Made of wood and the scent of it– I can smell,
And the veneer – suggests the wood was rough, before.
The room had splendour –
A floor and a ceiling! And, the smell of drying paint.
The walls of a room at first glance –
Scraped, roughened and plastered, then re-painted.
The process, made me think of you.
I progress with a command, on work.
The uneven surfaces, unreal boundaries
And the manufactured borders that seemed to exist
Were painted transparent as they began to disappear.
I could see you more clearly now.
I painted the walls for the second time.
I took a step and went back again.
The stance at the beginning is not the same.
I got to realize I am in a room that I had painted.
I was free to move. Times changed.
I saw the change too. It is not relativity.
It is a commonality that came as a revelation.
"Forget worries, shrug away the burdensome fatalities."
They were no longer heavy to me. I felt lighter now.
I found one source. A place for solace.
I listened to my heart. It beats and I felt alive.
Outside, it was silent.
And I enjoyed the absence of noise.
I tap myself on my back. Once, or more.
There wasn’t a tab on my feelings!
They are not closed. I don’t need to be patient.
My capacity is brimming to the rim.
I know I ventured into your world.
And I was proud of it.
As I look around the room, I saw
A table of glass designed to stand a test,
And remotely placed in a space for two,
Having four cups on it.
Also, on it was a kettle with boiling water,
Tea dust in sachets and a cauldron of milk.
No cream please. And two chairs please.
A place that belonged to none.
An empty tin of soda, lay on the floor.
The tin had a monstrous replica in the form,
Of a reflection seen on the glass table.
The reflection was disorderly and seemed unkind.
A spill here and there. Unkempt.
Then I sight,
A tub in the room, with a colour borrowed,
From the sky – blue. It was blue, all the way.
Being in blues, the colour blue doesn’t obey.
The tub was prominent in measure,
And with all its awkwardness in size.
I said to myself – blue, blue and blue.
The ceiling undone, but not like the skies.
The ceiling could be too – blue.
There is no room for air and the windows were
Presented as closed.
I heard “At the door, are you ready to enter?”
Two hearts beating in symphony!
The door to it, to be in nature – shy,
Yet inwardly reverberating with joy.
A question of who is to be in for a rob.
A copy of it in mind – a knob.
Turns, turns and turns.
And with a squeaky sound, the door opened.
I place a foot as I enter at the exact spot of safety.
Just like each time. Every time.
It is a common and small mistake. And it becomes auspicious.
I begin to believe that may be this room is lucky for me.
It looks new – the room.
Again, fresh with the smell of dried paint.
It is the living room.
All air; all light.
The ceiling is intact,
And it is exactly why our lives are saved.
The door closed on a watch.
I heard a knock again and a voice said “When are you coming back?”
I never understood an absence. And I never part ways.
I heard another voice saying “Whenever you call me back!”
So, I go my way in observing the flooring – the tiles had a design.
It consists of repetition and was intricate.
But, definitely not “Complicated”.
I walk out of the house.
Its summer and it is a delayed sunset.
Relax, the sun is still on time.
For me, it was more time before it gets dark.
And I bolt towards the exterior world.
That night, the stars fell to earth.
Downwards, they fell as seen,
Some on the ground, some on their way,
And,
A few twinkling stars reached a tinsel town.
I have a tangible sensation.
I make no qualms about the source,
To my inspiration – Like the stars
That fell to earth. I fell too.
But my ambition stayed intact.
What a time to be in the moment!
What a time to be alive!
Fearless, I heard a roar. An invitation.
I became fearful not to go in the wrong direction.
I rise to the occasion.
I start to run – I sight the stars,
Up close and personal. And I remembered,
A star broken or not, fallen or not,
Had exuded shine, flickered in brightness
And was a source of illumination.
