Under Influence

They walk,
and I walk along.
I don’t cerebrate
and ask why and where?
Driven by impulse,
I follow,
absent reasons,
absent desires,
just to please,
under influence!

I pretend,
to have apprehended,
routines, customs of many
for may appear obtuse
if I don’t.
Rationality is impaired,
and even if it’s not,
I tend to neglect
for I fear their response,
under influence!

It’s captivating, the world,
beauty, joy on shallow faces,
pretense of relationships,
altering dynamics, hiding
pains, for feeble fools
we are, and adulation by
others pleases more than
our own understanding
of life and felicity,
under influence!

It’s cryptic, but
the keys lie within.
The ‘life of pretend’
a mere escape from self.
The darkest, constant concerns
mere manifestations of
shame and unresolved issues.
I ought to commit to
self exploration whilst
under influence!

For I can, and
to live my “own” life,
and not someone else’s
I must!

Check out this song if you may, I found it’s lyrics so damn fascinating and so poetic, and above all so true. I think Fleet Foxes are very much known for their fine lyrics. Click to Listen 🙂

It was meant to BE!

destiny-life.jpg

Things happen
and we call them
“events of life”,
some capable of
turning life’s course.

A man’s prevision,
mere predictions
we call them, can
go wrong or equally right.

Future is not set
in stones, we say,
but do we believe,
fighting our way
off the prophecy,
spend entire eternity
working against it,
hitched,
to change for better.
And whatever be the
result, favorable or not,
we emphasize
“it was meant to be,
there’s no escaping”,
and all
efforts
alternative possibilities
in-between,
are termed delusions,
acceptance sweeps the
course,
never questioning,
nor inquiring explanations,
mere “coincidence”
which it is,
is never understood!

Large Guanacaste tree

Large-Guanacaste-tree.jpg

I see green
touching golden grass,
vastness of structure,
shade for comfort,
strong and insuperable,
Large-Guanacaste-tree,
a traveler’s paradise,
Large-Guanacaste-tree.

I don’t see dark,
beneath the shade,
lie roots naked, devoid
of leaves and fruits,
sipping water, from wherever,
digging deeper, beyond it’s
length, to make green
Large-Guanacaste-tree.

A picture perfect,
never is all lucrative,
A picture perfect,
never is about beauty,
A picture perfect,
exists, background known
and visible to a few, whilst all see
Large-Guanacaste-tree.

Gloomy are the roots, hidden,
it’s not known to some,ignored by
some, accepted by some.
It’s “menial” for arrogant rich,
it’s “sacrifice” for wise, alright,
capable of discernment, living,
but it’s also “life-of-many”,
not pretty, but exists a “picture perfect”.

Such is life, I agree,
I understand and I don’t complain.
But next time,
when I see
Large-Guanacaste-tree,
I shall appreciate thee
hidden beneath
Large-Guanacaste-tree.

Crime and Criminal

I embraced the light behind me,
as it projected my shadow
onto that wall, that clouded,
darkened, malevolent wall,
eclipsing beyond my sorrows.

The wall unfolded to light,
divulged dark kept secrets.
left exposed by brisk ray of
sunshine, to me, me alone.

I walked along that wall,
cursing it’s part in sinister
boardrooms, never realizing
my shadow was the only
darkness on that wall.

A criminal’s crime,
to look into darkness,
better not falter, turn to light,
shadow will fall behind.

I have been reading into a little of “Psychoanalysis”, the three apparatus id, ego and superego. It is indeed an exceptional theory by Freud to contemplate and structure a model of our psyche. In simple words, “id” – the hidden part, inaccessible, filled with desires, self-gratification, positive and negative, driven by impulse. “Ego”, the conscious part, attempts to mediate between id and the real world i.e., striving to accomplish desires in reality to gain satisfaction and make it useful. “Superego”, more like an agent, our conscience, that strives for perfection, preventing unwarranted demands of id to be met by ego and induces guilt, remorse when unable to prevent, influenced by our surrounding, our only tool to separate right from wrong.

Immersible in shanty, deluded
world, of theories and possibilities,
I instill confidence in cryptic ways,
to mend means to desired ends.

Subdued by premonitions, I take
back, retract to soothing ways for
self and society, finding peace,
in commotion of treacherous schemes.

But patience acquires irrelevance,
when change is not progress,
when liberty is cumbered,
by hindered, darkened self.

Crime ain’t the easy way,
but easy way we take,
shrugging off commitment to
succeeding struggle, fly by criminal lane.

Compromise to advert prosperity
desires shall always appear
germane, when soul resides in dark,
“Criminal for life’s sake”, the lair say!

Taking cue from a Child

The poem is written for Friday Poetically. Topic – “A Poem with a child or a youth”.

I don’t know if I have helped, but I have spent time with many kids, many of my cousins. I think many of us, being adults seem to see “us helping them grow”, but the poem I want to share is about “they helping us better”.

Ayush.jpg

When around one,
innocence resides in heart,
pleasures are only
branded with smiles,
decisions don’t weight
profits, but felicity,
convincing appears challenging,
inviting patience,
tricks by me appeal,
compelled, their visage
avers it magic,
I recognize pureness,
molded can be, imitating,
I recognize responsibility,
a year past teenage, don’t possess wisdom,
but, I think I am improving,
taking cue from a child.

It’s all about DISTANCE

It is not always about how harder one works because it’s just a tool in the poignant journey we endorse. Sometimes, the distance of the goal from our sight makes a commendable difference in either strengthening or weakening our collective efforts. Working your way into something, always reveals more about goal, the destination one is after, often we narrow down to specifications from broader outlook and strike better, sometimes it seems over whelming as we start to know it better, but as we move towards this destination, we collect strength from the journey, it begets experience which becomes our treasured tool to anticipate, and as the distance closes in, the enthusiasm takes over, the joy of conquered battles till date keep us up, to fierce into the final battle. The journey is not always upward, it swamps down and ridges up, but I say “It’s always about the DISTANCE“, the closer the better.

girl-on-road.jpg

To
free road,
sublime to
traveler, far
from destination,
the start mere requisite,
umpteen roving steps pursued
to claim but still walking nigh. Counting

ON the
distance sought
till day,

to forebode remaining.  Learning  of,
less to cover, now, more reachable,
informed, revered, narrowing
to clear perspective,
fortifies the
ambition
to walk,
be.

One Shot Wednesday
Sunday Scribbling
Thursday Poets Rally

To Start Over [sonnet]

I came across a Sonnet on some blog yesterday, I thought I should write one. I don’t know if its apt, but I loved to explore this new form. To find all relevant information on sonnets with exampled substance, click here.

 

Beguiled, held in symphony of cosmos
pursuing the treasured candid luminance
men incline to partake, far from rimose
behind mountains, therein lies life’s essence.

limning notion, with coupled attributions
men prescribe to escape incited by hope
spread of orange, hovering over burdens
to seek, “present” abandoned they elope.

but awaits gravy, long deserted road
probing sun to die, soon, night to overhaul
time belittled, start awaits, faith borrowed
they move, to deter “present” still stands tall.

Dearth of hours, to redeem, shall prevail
not relying on clouded shackles, over that sail.