The tree that lives on

A sea of surge and currents
An epiphany of dreams
As calm as the mystic moon at night
My freedom struggles inspite,
The road is filled with love and despair
Laugh at those who are pansy beneath
Whilst parading their nonchalant might,
A tall man’s shortcomings,
Are a small man’s virtue,
For it is when we crawl
That the test of time dawns on us all,

Behold, the midnight lamp,
Shining into the dark hearts of some,
Do you like misery my friend?
Do you feed off what you dwell with?
Take it all, take it all,
For you, it is free,
For any man so pompous with the greed for sorrow,
Is nothing but a bark, empty and hollow,
One day, it will wither;
Until that day, persevere,

With what strengths you pull,
All hail the man, who pulls nothing but air,
For all those moments where whispering souls,
Whimper to get poisoned to wake up in the morn,
Wondering, are all the ghosts gone?
The reflection pulls you in,
No memory of the lark,
No joy of smiling into a reflection,
Vexed and effete,

Fear not little bird,
For broken wings mend, as hearts do,
Feathers will grow back, as your will to survive,
For sorrow goes hand in hand with joy,
You are in between, keep looking on,
Frowning rejoice,

Roy

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The Night Rain of Friday Night

This is my threnody,
I sing it for you,
This is the night jewel,
I carve it from my icicle tears,
Of dystopian fears.

Too much to give in,
A hyperbola soup,
Trends of naysayers
Have confused, your soul
Confused your soul,
Confused your soul,
Feeling rustic,
I long for home,
The earth with that golden blonde hair
With that ocean blue sky,
Flying with me,

Come winter, Come summer,
Come, the rider from that everlasting field,
The field is mine,
But patience has made me strong but lovelessness has made me a fool,
I enter the realm of this blonde field, like a conquering king,
With no one left to rule.

-Roy

 

Bookish

How long will you take it?
The sadness that you call laughter?
The pain in the helter-skelter of the lies you see?
How long will you wonder?
If you could have made a better life?
A couple of trinkets in the talent
And a rich cake every night!
How steep could you fall?
If you didn’t drink that poison?
If you didn’t die every night.
If you didn’t start the fight,
Then why do you still fall?

The escapades of people,
Don’t let it get you down,
You will fly in time,
Everyone’s got their dues,
To pay the piper of life.

Dream on little dreamer,
Dream away,
Rest with your dreams tonight,
And live life the next day.

Days Of Slumber

Feels like the days of slumber
Lying on my bed in despair
My pages are but timber
As the fire in my room reaches air

My mind, my heart seemed awoken
With the blaze intoxicating me
The covers are red
And I can smell the burning flesh
Is this but a dream?

I thirst and quench for solace
But the mind heeds no pain
Drowning in the dark of the subconscious
In the night of the cold I see salvation
The depths lay open to the flame

My mind, my heart seemed awoken
With the blaze intoxicating me
The covers are red
And I can smell the burning flesh
Is this but a dream?

It seems to be…

-Pheonix Of Ashes

The Little Things Give You away

What’s in a name? Just a simple name? It matters not where it comes from but what it means. Well, that’s what comes to my mind when I wanted to start a blog. I wanted to show how different I am from the world, and well I thought to myself. No matter how many “great” articles or poems I produce; at the end, my name matters the most. That’s something which is of great importance.

I feel genuinely happy when people start to write and take a serious interest in exploring themselves on what they write about. People need that. They need to express themselves in these absurd times of social media illusion; now, when I say illusion I meant that people have reached a break even point where; we get it. We just want to share, love and show off. That’s perfectly fine! But with sharing pictures, moments, amazing inspiring stories; we just don’t share anything anymore! We hide our problems behind these perfectly edited Instagram pictures.

People need to find their way of expressing themselves. One of them is writing. And that must be encouraged amongst the youth of today who only care less about being themselves and care more about dressing up like a 27-year-old.  Now, I won’t be an old sod and say that you are dressing inappropriately but I say dress what you feel comfortable in. But yeah, there comes that time when we try to dress like people 15 years older to us.

Now the thing about kids is that they need help from the very beginning, because of our great education system. Pressure builds in from the start and it just keeps coming and coming until you find yourself on the noose. That needs to stop. It’s like a disease or a trend starting to plague everyone. People have to start talking about it. Kid’s need to open up to their parents, they need to stop the abuse, the substance abuse. Parent’s need to be a little broad minded about what their children are up to.

To anyone or everyone out there, you have kids, nephews, nieces, grandkids, friend’s kids, ask them to open up. Ask them to find something to express themselves; writing, painting, running, skating, swimming; so many to choose from! The world is filling up with the unnecessary stress created from the top up! It’s time to take it easy and take a steady step away from that ledge!

My favorite rock star, Chester Bennington passed away a couple of weeks ago. He was part of the band, Linkin Park. Beautiful music. The unsung heroes of the Millennium angst. The night, while I was mourning for Chester whilst playing one of his songs on my guitar; I asked myself, what can I do to save a life? To reach out and make people stop from killing themselves! Well, I couldn’t come to an answer. But I came to a theory.

If we start helping the people closest to us, little by little; you are making a big difference. Forget about the probability, the math for once. Even one person, if you just tell them that the world is not on your shoulders, you can influence a generation.

I’m going to help people in the best way I can.

Let there be love.

 

A friend from the north

For reasons unknown, I was browsing through my facebook messenger. It was a dull day, I was at my friend’s place and we were hardly doing anything productive as a group. The wind was blowing into that small computer room which in fact, ironically was the most happening place at nights. But this time it was different, it was boredom. Out of all the commotions happening inside our heads, the room was as silent as the cantonment library.  I happened to be on a surface which filled in all the roles for our numerous occasions, a dancefloor, bed, sofa, and a stage.  Sitting on it like a wriggling fish out of the water, I opened my phone. Now when you open your phone it’s generally to check if you’ve got any new messages or just browse because like the moment in which nothing is happening, seems like you have the same predicament on your phone as well. I browse through everything, Instagram, Facebook, Ninegag, Snapchat, In-shorts, The Hindu, and nothing is dazzling me!  The last place I would generally go to is facebook messenger. There’s something about facebook, I disconnected myself from it. There seem to be many friends but you just can’t talk to them because you don’t know them and it’s not like you can’t talk to them it’s just that it seems odd and as a social media platform that sucks. It comes down to the bottom line that I have many friends but I speak to a few and that’s the same with others. Its social media nature I guess. I try to see the list in which I can start up a conversation and I find something strange. There’s a girl on my list who I don’t know of. I have no memory of adding her or even sending an invite. No mutual friends exist. But she’s online and she’s my friend.

 

To be continued…

The human

It’s a pleasant day, the trees are swaying, the dogs are soaking in the winter sun and the birds are washing themselves up just fine. A human has a bone to pick with all this. A human is restless and irritated. 

The human looks at the sky and wishes he could fly. He looks at the bird and he envys and imitates the creature to its very mechanics. The human looks at the trees and creates buildings of rest. The human looks at the dogs and creates the best bed to sleep on. The human looks at the beasts of the wild and builds weapons of mass destruction. The human envies the fish and creates a pool of vast spaces for his liesure. The human imitates everything to become the dominant species. 

The human has no limits. Yet after every feat the human wants more.