Why do I heed the call?

​Why does a painter paint, Singer sing, Racers ride, even after their time has gone? 

I remember perhaps about 6 years ago people glue to my guitar playing. I never played really well. I don’t think I did, but layman as they be, their blessings were honest and their request to never stop playing, how good I was, how my music gave them a moments joy, perhaps, these are the thoughts subconsciously that still make me pick up my guitar every morning. I am at a stage where it may be too late for a Rockstar breakthrough. I have many other interests besides music and composing music has been one of them. I guess consciously when I pick up my guitar every day and feel lost with no direction or end goal this is what I tell myself, “Go on. This finger movement. This phrase. This skill will help me in composing nice music. “ that is all I really see possible of me, now, composing. Also there maybe some other desire that leads me to it, say, showing off, making people woo over me which circumvates to more motivation to pick up the guitar. Heh, it is funny, the thing I am playing the guitar for is the same thing making me play the guitar or vice versa. It is the often overlooked things that are right in front of you, but hold the key to the door to a desirable answer.
Here is a poem about the same that I wrote, though it is not nicely done, I believe it conveys my emotions.

Why does an artist draw, poet write

Even after their days have been in blight?

Why does a preacher continue to preach

And a rider set out even in the night?


Reminiscing the young and fun filled days

Of civets in the attic and songs by the hay

Once I was passionate as the highest notes say

O’ wild dreams I set out to chase


I don’t feel.it anymore, the time has passed 

That is a rational mind comprehended

Work hard, and settle down that is asked

Somehow I give in my dreams apprehended


O’ reminisce once again thy joyou days a soul sublimes

You have a call that is meant for giving

Turned you have the tables to your might

Let this song never be out rhymed


What a hypnotic dream I mumble each morning

As I rush to the corner of my room and arrange 

Every sheet of music as the night before

I sit down and warm up the range


Come the night, a woeful 

I wonder again why

Why does a singer sing, an artist paint

A poet seduce, lovers endure

Whose dreams are a life

What’s the devil to procure

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Fu k the desire to be fulfilled.

​You see a self help peaceful enlighteninh knowledge source for some condition you believe you have that you also believe is bad when you see the ad of this self help.peaceful enlightening knowledge source for some condition you believe you have that you also believe is bad. What you do is fund the campaign, the cause, the research, the book, the speech or whatever shit it maybe, join in, and fund this. Then this campaign, the cause, the research, the book, the speech or whatever sjit is maybe gets big and so does the campaigns, the cause, the researchers, the authors, and all the megalomaniacs associated with it. Now again, you fund the campaign hoping that you’d be happy if you took that self help peaceful enlightening knowledge source for some condition that you believe is bad for you that will help you reach the fuck yes level of the campaigns, the cause, the researchers, the authors, and all the megalomaniacs and be happy. The cycle goes on. Why? Because happy person doesn’t desire to be happy and content, he/she just is. He/she doesn’t spend his life hours to work better to look better. He/she is a real booty call just like that. 

A lonesome part of the mind writes

​I wonder, where do visions go? When we dream of something and let it go, does it just disappear?
Miracles don’t happen, like those Hollywood action blockbusters. I really wish miracles did happen, but that would make life very boring if everything just happened. Heroes don’t always have to win, don’t always have to be the one achieving wonders. It can be you, them, me, side kicks, or antagonists. I don’t qualify to say this, I know but waiting for the miraculous moment, hoping for a saviour is very boring. Things don’t just happen without a reason or perserverence. If it did, we would have a very monotonous life, a very monotonous schedule, a dull life. Life’s biggest present is life itself. I have always thought of it as an open world game. It is funny how simple it instantly becomes but I forgot that while forgetting it. I forgot life has options, which you take, then becomes decisions, and later becomes something I would term as my choices. It is upon these decisions that designs you and let’s you play the game. Life is a game and we are all just our own renditions at it. Even in games, miracles don’t happen, only countless hours of gameplay or cheats.  
At times, it may sound like a lot, I honestly don’t have a lot going on. Just some lines along an empty space and time.
Thank you for reading, human.

You just keep sayin’ “some people”!

​Leeches

Do You know what leeches are? I bet you do, but I am going to remind you again to link to you what I type here and what I want you to learn. Well, leeches are… leeches. One fine day you decide that you want to go to a swamp because you have an undesirable liking for the place that people usually detest. So, you go there and you walk through it. You roam around hacking and slashing your way to and back. Upon reaching dry land and sitting down for leisure you feel a little odd down your spine. You move your hand over it and feel this sticky, slimy, throbbing, pulpy piece of filth on your skin. You are captivated by disgust, shock and fear. So, what do you do? Well, either burn it a little or pull it out and throw it to the swamp it crawled into you from. That’s what leech is, it sucks your blood, that’s it. It is what they do, their purpose and their way of life. They don’t know that. Because to them, sucking your blood is a natural process, but, to you, it is chore of the lowest specie. No hateful games just plain disgust. Now, in our folks, we have a saying, “tez khua”, which translates to blood sucker. We call people blood sucker as gruesome and cruel as it may sound, which, to me, seems no different than sucking the life out of you. Of course, this, we mean it metaphorically. Blood flows through your veins. It gives you life, it keeps you alive, it is what keeps you going. Your assets, physical and mental, your happiness, your treasures, goals, ambitions, and shit, those are the things that keep you going and those are the things inside of you each minute of your day. But, every now and then, a leech leeches on to your feet from a swamp and you do not notice. You only realise it when you either feel that uneasy feeling that leeches produce or when you are drained out of blood. You have nothing to do, now, yes? All that you can do, now, is to take a toothpick, unhook them, and throw them back to their loving swamp until it leeches onto some other adventurer’s feet and continue their innocent chore all life long. 
Leeches are dangerous. It is not necessary for you to live with them. Unhook and dispose of them when you spot one on yourself before it is too late, for your own life, because you owe yourself love.

Love of Evolution

“Survival of the Fittest.”

When I was younger I imagined it nothing more than devouring, bombing, punching the bully for taking my lunch, good grades and a good job, powerful armies, and greatness and economic worth of a nation or a group of people or just an individual. As days and years went by and nights spent pondering about the complexities of life – though I am not a Guru, or an expert, and you don’t have to agree to what I say – I have come to concentrate on the emotions and behaviours that truly define Evolution, which in turn is Survival of the Fittest, because those who evolve, adapt, and those who adapt, live. What I want to say is “Evolution” is not just simply standing erect, picking up your suitcase and trunk, moving to different places, signing business contracts, disputing over energy/resources and human lives. You see, human evolution is the single greatest gift which has gifted us so much more than we are capable of recognizing. “There’s so much more than we are.” I can not emphasize enough about what I think are these “gifts” that I am talking about. Many of you know them, use them and appreciate them, and are grateful for them, but there are many of us who don’t. I want to direct this message to those who see, but not comprehend, to those who hear but not listen, those who have ideas but don’t express, those who want to weep but revolt, those who laugh but not smile, those who have feelings and emotions but lie to themselves. You know what to do. As a human being, what creation or evolution, whatever you may believe in, has given us is, and if you can’t find out the reason, there is so much more than we are.

Rectum of the Uranus (Dark Poem from the Humour Vault)

Thunder, lighting, tremors and rain

A silent losing battle inside my brain

No one seem to understand quite

The isolation and end that I desire

Contempt and grin behind their eyes

While I succumb to their laugh and whine

A secret memorabilia of an old friend

The Darkness in me never seems to end

 

Wish that I could run away from it all

find shelter under an angel’s breath

Question my courage and I will not refuse

to answer your crimes in hell’s due

What awaits there shouldn’t bother me now

Because I know good people end up how

No more Mr. Nice Guy to you

I have always found joy in solitude

I hare crimes, Lord!

I am a beggar of justice

And if I’d overdone my pleads

Believe me when I have over done my deeds.