I can abnegate promises of holy kingdom for you,

it is no big deal, for a kingdom is a wasteland without the queen.


I can melt my layers and be me for you,

it is my pleasure, for I desire to be seen by your being.

I can for once write down in words for you,

that I love and I love you and I know, more so everyday.


An ascetic I have been, a fighter too,

a hopeless romantic and a hopeful friend.

Human. God. Devil. Easy titles.

But I can be a man for you.


Get me the nails and the hammers,

show me where things leak,

wrap a blanket on my naked soul,

sunken in a cherished sleep.


If I whisper your name,

butterflies dance to the tune.

A tickle here, a gush there,

I swear I’ve seen flowers blush.

One way street, this journey is,

and we’re not passing by.

Did I catch up to you or you to me,

I am glad that our eyes aligned.


Eons of circling this simulation,

seeking and destroying,

loving and loathing,

and your sigh made me hush.


So get me the ropes and the rugs,

Ill drench them in Colors unseen.

Shallow waters dry and vessels break,

I can now, again jump to the end, that is deep.


Is this a love poem, or grated cheese?

Would you care to taste the dip.

I am no chef, nor am I many many things.

But a bedside poet I can be for you.


Will this go away? Yes it crossed my mind.

But in heart we trust, in heart I ache for you everyday.


You may reprove me for absurdity,

but life has no accidents, only adventures.

And they bring me stories,

that I can pillow talk to my ...


T


PS: ringa ringa noses





“Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. The third time it's enemy action.” - Eric Goldfinger.

And the number of instances for us has bypassed all counts. Freedom is under attack. And as a collective humanity, we are too blind to stop it. Surveillance capital is on its way to become a lucid reality. Neo-liberalism has taken hold of the system. The right is always right and the left is left enough. The extremes are defined by the powerful. And the center is off-center shifting all of us out of balance. We want likes and we want money to satiate our insecurity and desires. All provided and created by the system within the system. It was hard enough to overcome our inherent nature and operate as an actor aware of the magic that moves through us. With the additional layers of control and structure chaining us down, and bombarding us with additional noise... it has stopped crossing people’s minds. We want a good salary package. We want to crunch numbers a certain way so that our startup’s growth projections satisfy the investors. We want this and that. We want it now. Or in a timeframe of an year or two so we can exit within a decade and retire early. We want. We want it bad. Some of us want food on the table for the family. Some of us want enough space to sleep freely. We have forgotten about the stars in the night sky. We care more about the stars on our OLED screen. We are sad when they die. We care about death more than we care about life. We don’t even mourn the dead long enough. It’s a trend determined by likes and hashtags. We are more fleeting than ever. And yet we are far from liberation.

Today, today masses are used to regurgitated knowledge. A horde of grotesque flavours has diminished the essence of pure vanilla. Like intertwined serpents of caduceus, the symbols of magic remain in memory, but Hermes has been deflagrated by most. And his staff hijacked by the vile. While living in the umbra of a hypnagogic existence, expiation of collective guilt, self imposed, has become opium of the intellectual.

And, and those who are awake simply amuse themselves with pandiculations of humanity still stuck to animal mode.

This, this mess has permeated every aspect, turning the knobs slowly to berserk. It is time for the mavericks to activate and mobilise in stealth and otherwise.... oh and have faith. Have faith that there is a way out of this mess. That each of them is not an alone and independent actor. That somewhere their fates are intertwined and they are the individual self aware, self dissolved actors of a singular consciousness. A consciousness that is serene and eternal. The one who wakes the birds up right before the sun emerges back from the horizon. From the abyss still unknown to mankind to the sky that is mostly blue, and beyond, the manifestation of this consciousness exists with a purpose. We have lost the purpose. But it’s not so bad. Man’s quest for purpose is the only story worth being written till the end of eternity. I just hope that we escape the body of Sisyphus and embrace the gods within.


Tarun

30.4.20

Try as you may,

to keep the bubble,

of your frail existence,

burst it will.


Cosmeticize to your heart’s content,

miseries and trophies of a life lived,

on terms made by your growing self,

your independent self, your free of influence self.


Do it.

Make it a one of a kind bubble.

Connect with other bubbles,

on values shared.

Make a fist.

Make a tongue.

Make a noise.

It will all still go.


Fighting over insignificance,

virtuous selfishness is no match

in face of malicious selflessness.

Futile.

Both fools.


The game plan needs to be bigger,

bigger than your lifetime,

you selfish little meat bags.

Still futile.


Failing simulation of humanity,

and we are still fighting over a pixel,

of our fleeting existence.


T


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​तरुण