Back to Bedlam

You're high
Then you write
Poetry
Lucid thoughts

You wait in despair
Prepare to be extinguished
Your bright blue flame
Being watered down

The end of the line
Bottom of the valley
The deepest deep
The space within

Serving among brothers
Working hand in hand
You soldier on
Till kingdom come

Bright sun goes down
The menacing night
Wild cats on the prowl
You're scared alone

Neck deep in despair
At the end of the day
Ain't me and you
But me alone

And my God within
Who guides my way
Or he's just a sham
I wouldn't know

To the beach and back
To the city of dreams
In a tumbling train
Back to bedlam

Blurry Minds, Blurry Lives

Days when you feel useless again.

You think of making a blog post on how almost everyone you're close to are people who you've interacted online mostly.
You think of making a blog post, comparing trippy psychedelic music of the 70's with today's counterpart.
You think of making a blog post on you love life.

You don't; you instead get stuck in your immovable, morbid state... stuck with one leg in the gutter and the other in the drain.

This urge, this need to feel productive... kills me from the inside at times.
It's like you look at all these people, who are mostly around the same age, doing well in life; having achieved far more than you have till now.
People console you; they tell you that it's because of different opportunities, better opportunities. Bigger places, better chances.
All that hogwash.

Anonymous once said, "If you really want to do something, you’ll find away; if you don’t you’ll find an excuse."

But what is the deal with all these quotes, eh?
All this philosophical nonsense.
This flexibility of these feeble words that you can put to use in whatever situation and time you deem fit.
Different meanings at different times, dollar now... dime sometime.

Quotes. The fake wise-men of our generation.
Oh wait, we already have them.

Anyhow, I digress.

Mum said, "Do the best you can wherever you are."
But what if I already am, ma?

This person on this website said, "I sometimes feel I just DO NOT belong here. It feels like whatever I do or plan to do is hollow and pointless. There are phases of depression and emptiness that I face. I feel I could have as well studied in DU (smoking away my college life, which I still do but without meaning to it). This feeling reaches its zenith when your grades suck or you lose a competition."

Wow. Fucker just raped my mind and stole everything I wanted to say.

Mothers you know, wonder women of the world.
One phone call and your brain gets re-wired.
But what if you don't know if it's for the good, these re-wiring?
What if you are just being inception-ed.
False promises and fall hopes, just rotting... grub for crows.


This is pointless.

Blurry minds, blurry lives.

Basboosa

 ‎"If you don't see me, I'll burn myself." 

Basboosa

Mohamed Bouazizi sold produce on his cart all day long to provide for his family. Basboosa, as he was called by the locals, gave up his hopes of a university degree as it was an unrealistic dream that his harsh life wouldn't grant him.

He was sensitive to the torment inflicted on the innocent locals by the municipal authorities, and he was angry. Rage burned in him like a phoenix which would only burn out after self- immolation, rebirth. 

Faida Hamdi and her municipal henchmen had harassed him and destroyed his cart, his means of livelihood. She had slapped him, spat on his face and called his dead father 'a coward who killed himself'. 

Standing outside the governor's office, expecting no reply to his cries and complaints against the injustice that life itself had become, Basboosa thought to himself, "When there is nothing left to burn, you have to set yourself on fire."

And then he lit the match that set fire to the Tunisian Revolution.

Why Did I Ponder On This As A Little Boy?

What do you do when you've done all you can and still can't make someone content?

You try harder. Or something. 

I mean how hard is to make people happy? 

I think I can answer that. Get a hold of a time machine.

This is a moment of absolute genius. Isaac Asimov would be proud.

Just go back in the godforsaken past and right your wrongs. Make better decisions, lower causalities. 

But no, even that won't do any good. Because the gist of the matter is that in your dimension you have already fucked up so even if you would go back and do things differently you would just enter a different dimension. 

So basically, you're fucked for eternity. Even if you somehow manage to find yourself a time machine and reverse shit, you're still pretty much fucked.   

Humans err right? Then why are we given hell about deeds committed in the past? 

Mistakes you've learnt from, having sworn to never repeat the same or something similar. 

But no, the promise to be good doesn't help. 

Nor does doing everything you can to keep the bridge intact that connects the both of you.

Little by little, every passing day.. you observe strains on the bridge. Tiny cracks that don't really threaten the foundations but then again who likes a scratch on their shiny car.

You touch up the scratches and do your best to repair what's wrong but the repairs keep on breaking, all your efforts are temporary. 

You don't remember a time when everything was sunny, everything was simple.
You don't remember a time when you were both content, satisfied.
Complications arise, your past deeds deemed unlawful, illegal.
But then you smile, remember there's low and then there's high tide.