Sometime’s when you hear that your mom is not doing well or is suffering and your miles away, it kind of gets to you that you have to pack whatever you can and rush to her. I know where my hope comes from now, deep within through her. It’s alright to miss your mom and your family in troubled times. It’s healthy and that’s worth a hundred prayers.
The feeling of being happy is so much different from being happy. I like the feeling and that’s how it echos into this guitar of mine. I’m happy in the most weirdest of ways. The smallest things give me joy. After all, I’m different and so are all of you.
I thought that if I am on a flight, 30000 ft above the earth;I could leave my problems for a certain amount of time. But no, it just stalls it for sometime. Problems seem to always be around you, their like needed bacteria, like the ones in your gut which break down food. But no one would actually believe we “need” problems in our lives, people would call you a mental man. Well people call each other many things. But even I haven’t come to terms with the fact that we need problems in our lives to exist. Could it be true? Is that the very answer to all our problems? I think it might.
You see, I’ve been down with hope. I keep trying to hold it as strong as I can but I just let go at times. I’ve been low and sad due to my family problems and how that affects me. My glasses broke and I’ve had a bad week in office- because they didn’t allow me to fix my glasses but asked me to stay at work (exploitation just gets them ruins). I think I’m also having some kind of a gastrointestinal problem with the acids in my tummy. But hey, I’m still standing tall. I haven’t fallen in love or made love in years, I haven’t had a good moment where if I smile, nothing bad has happened.
There are two sides of me where, I’m mad with rage and wants to keep charging on like a soldier on the battlefield. The other lies low amongst his dead comrades, weeping and deep in pain. Finally, there is me; the neutral one who sees both of them, hugs them, fights them and embraces them. A perfect balance. A cycle. First comes rage, then the grief and finally the standpoint of wisdom, freedom and knowledge.
So folks, here I am sitting in a barber shop lying naked with my thoughts, waiting for my turn to get a trim. I think I might just come to terms with my problems, someday we need to accept them as our own. After all that’s what drives us. Self heal.
Everyone has a day when something in them dies. My dreams did. There comes a time, in life where regardless of age, how good or bad comes the choice of reason. Choice is humanity’s biggest problem and strength; in a time of crisis, I was left with a choice to cast out my dreams so that everything stays intact, so that everyone who I love is around me. Luckily it did not come to that, but I have been touched by it and that itself is a reminder about where you stand and who you are in this world. It felt like death. Haven’t experienced it but I could well define it as death.
Everyone needs some sort of encouragement. They get it from their parents, lovers, friends, some point in life where one witnesses things that reflect upon our thoughts. Well, I get encouragement from a feeling deep within, that yes in some way I can shape the world and some day I can change it! One does not need some sort of a government grant to start something new, no one ever did; and with today’s technology I bet no will even think of something like that.
The concept of garbage man came to me like the concept for my blog itself. I was devastated after my father’s surgery ( everything is fine now) but the entire experience left me tired, lonely and exhausted. This strange courage came from nowhere, that even in a time so grim I was able to digest emotions, be a pillar for somebody and help others even when I needed saving. I have the beautiful gift to absorb and not let it affect me or anyone else. I love absorbing emotions and sharing mine with others. I’m good at that. I hope this shapes into a profession, but hey there’s a long way to go let’s not be hasty.
Music is a beautiful artform. Strings on a guitar can create hope, give life and express immense amount of pain as well. This is my journey, for those who follow; I hope I make you proud.
Tribals, we are tribals.
We hunt, we fight amongst each other, we live in cement blocks, we mate in cement surroundings. We are tribals. We burn what we need and we save what we don’t need. We talk so loud, yet we hear so little. We see so narrowly, yet we think so wide.
People living as tribals are human beings; capable of great wonders. After all what are tribals? Humans my friend, humans.
She’s a good woman, she’s bad?
Does it matter what she’s had?
What has she been through?
Because of you?
She thought the world about you
Out of millions, you were one of the chosen few
To enter the cave of infinite feelings.
But you had your fucked up dealings
She didn’t like it.
She dissed it, she didn’t seem fit
She took a dark path
She was abused
Are you amused?
That she had been used?
Another one of your toys
You’ve broken and thrown away
She’d go through hell for you
Why are you leaving? Come and stay
Stay if your heart is true
Because she can do it
The threads have been woven
She’s the fearless woman.