Tag Archives: humanity

Strawberry Fields

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ImageAnd in that void, I swayed. To the beauty of the moment that embraced me. The breeze of silent whispers that softly hit my drums like a soft love song sung behind closed doors and thick walls. And as I closed my eyes, and breathed stronger till my nose converged within itself, I let my worries out through a whiff of air that escaped my mouth. And I was there..

I walked through the garden, sunlit green. Rose kissed trees smiling at me, reaching out for an embrace.

‘Can you walk here to me?’, I asked.

And they swayed their head in melancholy. How unfair life is, isn’t it? To build a desire you simply can not please? Their roots held them back, so I could see. Like most of you, and I, him and she. So I walked to her, so tall and pink and green. And as I melted into the bark of the tree, her twiggy arms encircled me. And as I let go, all dusty and pink, she gave me a strawberry which made me think..

I wonder how she knew I wanted one, so juicy and sweet?

As I treaded on the infinite stone path that didn’t seem to end, I held the strawberry in my hand. And pondered if I hadn’t walked to the tree, if my desire to have one would be in vain? That would’ve been a shame..

So I looked at the vultures that orbited me, and I gulped down the berry before they could see.

My berry, my berry, all mine” was all I could think..

And as the berry struggled through my pipe, and bounced inside me, my vision became clearer and I could finally see. Did the sun just become brighter, or is it just me? I thought to myself..

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The sun indeed was livelier, the veins of the flowers pursed like a lady’s lips to kiss her beloved, the grass became younger than I last remembered..

It was a breakthrough, that much I could see. Closed doors opened, visions got clearer, things started to unravel.. And did life suddenly make more sense that it ever did to me?

And as I stared at the gold butterfly that sat on my nose, and flapped its wings to synchronize with my lashes, the voices called out to me.

Wake up, wake up, have you fallen asleep?’.

I felt a tug on my arm, though I could not see. And I reached out to the branch of the tree, to save me. The pull became stronger, and as I let out a scream.. The butterfly turned to dust, the tree fell apart, the sun deceased. The darkness sucked me in through a straw I didn’t fit in to, but such is darkness, and such it has always been..


 

Inspiration:

 

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Vertigo

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Come here.

Sit.

 

How did we get here? When we stopped looking for monsters underneath our beds, and started looking for them within and around?

Don’t make a sound. They’re listening.

 

Did you check for the ones hidden beneath the sheets of your bed? The ones that hold you close on a winter’s night, warm their bodies, until summer arrives? Did you hunt them down?

 

How did we get here? When dreams stretched longer than a night, and reality came a bit too soon..but still too late?

Open your eyes.

 

Do you want me to pinch you now, so you know what is true and that which is not? But didn’t you ask for that pinch when nothing seemed real? I believe you felt the pinch too late, my dear. Wait..

How did we get here?

 

Are you out of colors, yet again? The black, the blue, the green, the grey.

Prick your finger with a needle sharp, and paint your wall with blood so dark..

Wrap it with a chain and lock, not a door this time..

Remember the last knock?

 

Nothing is true, did I tell you not? Not the words spoken, or the purple rock.  God died in all the battles that were fought, the devil crawled out of him, I kid you not..

 

A sweet demise this shall be one, a revival, a reform? Or maybe none..

A cliff you’re standing on, yes, right there..

 

Wait..

How did we get here?

 


 

Inspiration:

 

Utopia

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Astronomica

 

Faith.

Ever had that feeling, when you’re lying on the hospital bed, and you just know who you want to see when you wake up; That one person who’d make it all better? Have you ever had that moment when you’re treading but you can’t stop yourself from turning around expecting to lay your eyes on something other than your shadow? Have you ever hoped to feel a warm embrace when you’re sitting alone crying?

 

Ever looked into someone’s eyes, wanting to see love? And have you ever led yourself to think that it’s there? Ever come across an episode when you see the knife, but you let your back turn anyway? And have you pretended like your loved one didn’t tear your spine with it? Ever been in a state when you can’t embrace the truth because it’s too harsh? And have you ever knowingly let go of the truth, and embraced the lies because they give you a reason to smile?

 

Ever lived in a time when humanity perished and greed prevailed? Have you ever been a part of the system, even though you hated it? Ever become the person you dreaded the most? Have you ever reaped your soul to have a little power? And have you ever sadistically liked being superior, while crushing your fellows beneath your feet?

 

Ever come across a point in time when you think you’re special to god? Have you ever had the faith to nullify the fact that he’d let you get hurt? Have you ever told yourself that it’s going to be okay, when you know it isn’t? Have you ever lied about how you’re grateful to god, when you really aren’t? Have you ever fashioned a facade, believing that god will give you the answer, when you can’t find it? And have you almost always known that that isn’t going to happen?

 

Faith is a funny thing. A state of intoxication, an eternal beauty where reason has drowned and lies have succumbed. A beautiful denial; A beautiful lie; A beautiful utopia. Faith is what all of us need. A reason to decline, a reason to believe in good when there isn’t any, a reason to smile when there is none. Faith, like utopia, is not wanting to know the truth because the lies are better.

 

 

Epiphany

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“I still live, I still think: I still have to live, for I still have to think”
Friedrich Nietzsche

The Fractal House.

The Fractal House.

 

As I drown myself into the deep abyss of scrutiny, voices break my mind into a puzzle. This enigma, the mind, something hard to put back, speaks to me with perplexity. And as it does, it dismantles from the rest of me. But what is this rest that I speak of? Isn’t my mind me? Isn’t it what elucidates me? Or is it the heart that steals the strength I have, weakening me with every scarlet tear it sheds?What am I made of? Am I made of dreams? Of spirit? Or just bones? Is there something that dwells within me, which holds me together? Or is it just reality that holds me intact, telling me that I am existent. Can it be true that the world we live in, the steps we tread everyday don’t really exist? That the words I’m carving on the wrinkles of this paper are a dream? But a dream of what? And every time this thought assails my mind, I pinch myself to prove that I exist. But does the pain that screams within the wound that I gift myself justify my being?

 

As I narrow my eyes, fixated on the hand of the clock, ticking its way to it’s friends that await it, a notion tingles my mind. Is the hand of the clock forced to move away from one comrade to another? To say a goodbye so quickly for a speedy hello? Or is it that these friends aren’t really friends? The clock, like every being, is ordered by the norms of society to know another to make itself known in order to exist. But who orders us? Who sets these norms for us? Is it the dominant paradigm, or is it a spiritual entity? Who determines that the sun has to burn the earth knowing that some people may not conceal themselves? Who orders the dark to set, knowing that it might camouflage the beast within? Who decides the fact that the bee has to die after it stings its enemy? Who determines these gruesome specifics to a degree where they feel just fine?

 

In a world where every word is a prejudice, where man devours another, where the existence of truth is a lie; Is it wise to have faith in a being that hasn’t been acquainted to your iris? Or is it naïve to think that the pink veins of the flower gave birth to themselves without the help of a supreme individual? And I ask myself; Is man one of God’s blunder’s or is God one of man’s?
But as my hand scribbles its way to its last words, my mind still wandering in a maze of unattainable desires, I sigh as I watch the woman in the water staring back at me with more strength to breathe in the answers than I do

 

 

The Sparrow Sings

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A poem about the social evils and crimes against humanity, committed not only in Pakistan,  but in other developing nations with male dominated societies. The metaphor of the sparrow has been incorporated to indicate how the world rarely notices how brutal and painful these crimes really are.

Far away,
A place where no one dares to travel,
Somewhere along the empty trail,
A young girl loses her innocence,
She wails and screams,
While the sparrow sings.

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In the neighborhood,
In a place called home,
A tattered and broken abode,
A wife, a mother, lies on the floor,
Abused and marred,
And the sparrow sings.

In a field,
A barren and hollow piece,
A man sets his blood on fire,
Simply because she chose to,
Fulfill her desires,
Still the sparrow sings.

Round the corner,
In a desolate village,
The epitome of purity and innocence,
A female infant,
Meets her demise,
But the sparrow sings.

In front of me,
The people I know,
Disrespect and shoot down,
The ones who gave them life,
Yet the sparrow sings.

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Thousands cry,
While millions die,
Torment knows no bounds,
As everyone watches the world burn,
Havoc, unrest and anarchy,
Then why does the sparrow sing?

A Warriors Confession

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A Warriors Confession – Abdullah Iqbal

The moment of reckoning wasn’t far awayImage
Years of preparation and at last they come today
In the face of annihilation he stood merry and gay
Out of the distant mirage they came
Spears held high, armor red as flame
Bellowing a thousand chants Lord, of thy name
Ecstatic, he feared no death or mishap
With his men he hid there to entrap
Sword gripped tight, he would pounce in a snap
With no chance of squall
Sharp as ever his sword ripped them all
One, Two, Three, their demise resembled a rock fall

Inevitability hung in the airImage
Death came from just there
And soon the sun resembled a mere flame
He thought of his beloved as the world darkened
By her side he hoped to be awakened
Alas this futile wish left him saddened
Remember it will be as the story
Of certain servant from the old priory
For he knew he was destined for glory
It occurred only then when he cried for the lord
Though for so long the Creators power left him awed
He realized finally that there was no God

 

The Jungle Gym

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By Xenia Rasul

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Human vs Animal

It’s a big crowded playground, this world. You have to earn your way through to the top of the jungle gym, and how you earn it? It doesn’t matter. Funny thing this jungle gym. Like a labyrinth that swirls its way through acres of earth, not knowing where it starts, not knowing where it ends- if it does end. How victorious it might feel to get to the top? To step on toes, and pierce through backs, bite into flesh, and lose yourself?

It’s such a shame, this life. To be judged for a sin that’s different from anothers’. To be shunned for doing all the things that the one at the top did, only difference being you failed to climb to where they sit now. Funny how this works, isn’t it? To be hated for not spinning the knife enough, for not being malignant, vile and abhorrent enough.

But it’s not the Ha-Ha funny. It’s the funny that clowns feel at circuses. It’s the sort of funny that makes you want to paint your face into a smile, because you can’t smile otherwise.
It’s that funny.

Clowns. They’re funny too, aren’t they? To take pleasure in the happiness that they instill in the hearts of those that surround them. Paint their faces from one end to another to make you crack a Ha..And 10 tricks later..a Ha again. But what are you laughing at? What do you take pleasure in? The gloom of a clown? The feebleness of a caged animal, while you point your finger towards it? And what good does that make you?

Most of the times, life will play a game of cards with you. And more often than not, you’ll have nothing to play with, just the jokers. But that doesn’t mean that you’ve lost the game. The game is only lost when you give up, and there’s no such thing as giving up. Because though you might have a joker in your hand, but what will your foe do with his kings and queens and hearts and diamonds, when you have all the smiles and happiness, laughter?

So go on. Give up. If you take pride in the throne, and the top of the jungle gym, and the jewels of the crown that they wear.. But toss in your joker, and laugh at them if you believe otherwise. Because it’s a big fat fucking joke this life…

And at times you don’t have to take it as seriously as they do.

Nagging Conscience

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Nagging Conscience An interesting thought crept in to my mind this morning while I was getting ready for college. I was busy putting on my clothes when I realized that the single biggest engine of motivation in society is guilt. Think about it, we are all born in to a world full of people who expect things from us. We have responsibilities, duties, cares and troubles, things we must do, not for ourselves, but things which are thrust on us by others. We are scared of what will happen if we fall below the bar other people set for us, the bar we think we should aim for to please them. This simplifies a lot of things I’ve been thinking about lately. Why I’ve begun to hate everyone and everything around me. It all seems fake, like it was made to look shiny. The reality couldn’t be more different, dirtier.

 At the end of the day, it’s all shit. Doesn’t really mean anything. The reality we create around us is just to battle with our inferiority complexes. We try for our lives to have meaning, but fail miserably. We look for higher powers, for answers because we want to belong, to feel like it all means something, even though it doesn’t. We live on just one of a million possible planets in infinite space, yet for some reason, we’re arrogant enough to think that we’re actually special. That somebody out there actually has a plan for us. I find the thought amusing. I find it funny, how on the scale of things, we are more insignificant than the smallest dot the human eye can see, yet our quest for something bigger compels us to be irrational and think that our thoughts, our lives really matter. For us, the concept of infinity is unimaginable, and for us, time and its length only matters till we’re alive, but we cannot even begin to appreciate what eternity really means. When I was six, and I used to think of heaven, my biggest fear of dying used to spring up in front of me, and that was of eternal life after death. I used to fear that I would get bored even if I made it to heaven, because let’s face it, forever is a long time. There’s only so many times you can eat all the candy, play all the games and have sex with all of your virgins because eventually, since it is never ending, the possibilities would end. I preferred oblivion to this situation. Fifteen years later, I actually applaud my six year old self for having this thought. People get smarter as they grow up, I, on the other hand, feel that I was smarter as a six year old.

Nothing really happens. Nothing ever happens. And that for me is a source of constant depression. On the face of it, the college we go to is always full of life. Things are always happening. From parties, to sports events, to competitions of debates and dramas. But I hate being there for these. They make me feel even more alienated from the others. I don’t understand how everyone has so much fun in their lives. I find it nauseating. I know I need change. I wasn’t always like this. But I don’t understand what really needs to be done. Not coming to school doesn’t help either. I get behind on work and feel even more miserable. I try watching a movie but am too distracted to focus. I start looking for my copy of Lord of the Rings, my favourite book in the world, and the answer to all my problems. As a child, when I first read it, my life was going through a rough patch and I wasn’t really happy. But then I started reading LOTR in got so lost in it that I forgot about everything else. I wanted this feeling of oblivion again as I went through my bookshelf, my eyes peeled for the familiar worn, green spine. I found it at the bottom, right on the edge, inviting me to get lost within its pages. I retrieved from the shelf and lied on my bed and started reading. When I was done reading six chapters, I looked at the time and saw that six hours had passed since I started reading it. The feelings of depression, the loss of hope were gone. I then had an epiphany. There was no point in looking for meaning within life because it was a fruitless task. If one is critical about happiness and where to find it, then he/she won’t be able to find it. The only way to be truly happy is to enjoy the little things, like eating your favorite dessert, or listening to your favorite song. There’s no point questioning your existence with such negativity, because at the end of the day, you’re stuck with the lot that’s been handed to you. My purpose in life, from then on, has been to explore and enjoy all the little things that have always fascinated me, and so far, I have been successful at enjoying myself. At the end of the day, none of the philosophical questions matter, because there is no right answer to any of them. One should think about them, but not let them get in the way of your life. That is the true meaning of happiness.