What we seek is fanaticism

Fanaticism was growing
Fanatics were not
Ink spattered, here and there was not
Marked, dried, nothing worked right
Wind and sand, nobody else found home
Every tint on the canvas,
Every foot on the path, misplaced
Sometimes there’s a fire
That rises, swells, wants home
But there’s no home for fanatics
There’s no home for fanaticism
And yet, there will be fire
And a smile will doze it off
And yet, there will be fire
Because it won’t die,
Only disappear for a moment
Only to show up again
In fanatics, in their fanaticism
As long as there’s life
There’s fanaticism
There’s fever
There’s tale and madness
Madness for that what lasts a season
And dissolves into veins, rises, tightens
Gruelling, blackening, cooling fire
Cools off at the end, and by then, a new fanaticism matters

Words of gold

The power to change one’s life comes from a paragraph, a lone remark … The polished sentences had arrived, it seemed, like so many other things, at just the right time. How can we imagine what our lives should be without the illumination of the lives of others?

Light years, James Salter

What inspires me

image

1. Words like splatter, sherbet, Lollapalooza.
2. Sentiments like Bombay.
3. Apples, persimmons and lemons, lemon grass and fire flies.
4. New books, fresh smell, paper, print, pictures, antique pictures, vintage art, rustic creativity.
5. Reading about writers, their habits, eccentricities, struggle.
6. Dreams.
7. Clothes, lipstick, Kohl and supple skin smoked by Kohl.
8. People, characters.

Yet another float, yet another fall

Yet another float, yet another fall. I simmer helplessly. I sometimes lie frozen. I deny my senses and cringe on hearing their echoes. I sniff at my senselessnes, imposing them onto others. I find no retort when the mirror frowns at me. I grin at my failure as it walks over me. Joy breaks my skin and my bruises help me thaw.
I rejoice at the idea of humans piercing my nerves. My emotions are easily put at stake because I am an infamous maverick. I come as an astounding source of amusement because I spoke my ever seething mind. I am taken for a fence-sitter when I coolly hear them out.
I am an accomplished underdog in the world of heroes. The only kills I have made were the flies in my coffee. The only treasure I have savoured is the trust in my dishonest attempts. Bringing colours on, destroys my potrait. I wonder at the mood of almighty when he created me. I laugh at the idea of me keeping my sanity. I have lost all hopes of a hopeful mind. I have seen darkness strewned across my disfigured soul. Many roar at the idea of me having a heart. I am endured by them for a faceless cry.
I jump upon the opportunity of isolating my body and throwing it into the distance to encapsulate the mind it once bore. I retire in the morning on finding myself incapable of the fast buzzing world. I coil in the bed when the world laughs at me. I yell my throat out when nobody speaks to me. I weep the hell out of eyes when people find me nothing but a human.
I have learnt to selectively forget my fears and put up with the world the way it wants. I am convinced it cannot be better. I am happy my illusions are in their best.
I have had a personal enmity with bright mornings as they reveal what I have long tried to keep in hiding. I have feared my incessant faith in darkness but effortlessly travelled into its wild. I have maintained that I am a growling, screeching, whining creature of the old world; pining for a sip of an open soul in the congested streets; confused between “I” and the “You” of the world. Suffused in the liquidity of pain, I have been enchanted by the dry face of the world at times. I am in an endless wait of the time I see some phenomenon to wait for. I am not really satisfied by the way my state has been but I have no more hunger for dynamism.

Drafting Words at loggerheads

I love thoughts, words, art, gestures, emotions and most of the things that fit in the same book while contradicting each other. I agree with Newton when he professed ‘opposite attracts’. For starters, consider these – trembling fear, black shine, grimy white, bunglesome confidence. All of these adjectives so befittingly justify in describing their subjects and yet they are all actually trying to disagree with their subjects’ true identity. White once stood for purity, black could never shine, what fear is fear if it trembles or confidence if it shakes! It is attractive to read such words as rigid innocence, frail strength, cruel beauty as is to read sweet poison, loud silence and dead life.
Through the years, my fondness towards such pairs of words has grown manifold. Shyness coruscated and I always believed in the power of coupling two opposite ideas and thoughts. Two such ideas that would empower each other, complement each other, describe each other and yet not lose their individual identities. And, unlike the positive and negative of science bonding together, they won’t neutralize each other.
One day I wondered if such words hold any power. After all, all they have is just a tinge of beauty to them. The tinge that spans the mind when you read them. But then, I hear of great minds that awoke while they were, in fact, still asleep, i.e. in dreams, and I gravitate back to them. A brilliantly stupid reasoning. You’re free to go by your pragmatic imaginations about my effusive fondness.
This is my one-o-oneth post on this diary, so, fire’s waving cool. 😄

Golden words, deceptive words

Golden words, deceptive words

Constructing as life, tearing as swords

Golden words, deceptive words

Steady words, mature words

Golden words, deceptive words

Hobbling words, innocent words

Golden words, deceptive words

Die running, shy creeping

Golden words, deceptive words

Dissolve in mire, battle with rock

Golden words, deceptive words

Steel when in sorrow, hollow when in mirth

Golden words, deceptive words

Chirpy words, worthy words

Golden words, deceptive words

Forgiving words, blasphemous words

Golden words, deceptive words

Sugary sweet, forgotten words

Golden words, deceptive words

Poisonously bitter, treasured words

Golden words, deceptive words

Playful words, elusive words

Golden words, deceptive words

Devalued words, lied words

Golden words, deceptive words

Immaculate words, frivolous words

Golden words, deceptive words

Trusted words, denied words

Golden words, deceptive words

False words, beguile words

Golden words, deceptive words

A Poem

A poem tells all,
But it lets out nothing.
A poem describes the pain,
But it hardly shows the wound.
A poem is cathartic,
But you see it as decorative.
The pink of the face is not always a blush.

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