Feeling sleepy? How about Segmented Sleep

Earlier today, I was surfing the web and came across a term ‘segmented sleep’. Earlier when I talked about awareness, life, activities, my phrases and conjectures were limited to the five letter word ‘sleep’ but the past few minutes, witnessing many adjectives such as polyphasic, segmented, biphasic etc., as prefix to the so common word ‘sleep’ and have left me confused.

The segmented sleep or the bimodal sleep is an interesting approach to sleeping, which can be inculcated in our regular dynamic life, but its grass root knowledge has been derived from the Medieval times, merely from books and literature, and evaluating habitual occurrence. So, what is this complicated segmented sleep? Continue reading

Are Pictures better than Words

Picture-trouble.jpg

The day was December 8, and the year 1921, it started and now is the modern trend. The ad campaign that published the article “One Look is worth thousand words” has been acknowledged to have begun the saga of pictures, attenuating the premise of words, and  implying that pictures can better illustrate with a more obvious opinion, a situation that words might require a book to comprehend. Looking into it closely, one might get confused and find it difficult to ascertain, whether pictures alone can project the truth. Can they cripple the nub of words, or, are they simply an associate of words, bound to influence each other and work out the course, or are pictures obsolete for words are not biased, their interpretation not limited  to an individual, truly versed in pool of rendering, not bound to literal periphery.

The fact that WordPress itself, acknowledges the posts published with images, and highlights the necessity of pictures, provides enough evidence as to how deep the pictures are embedded in our system. There is no denying that pictures provide the gist of the post to certain extent, they highlight the obvious predicament that one supposedly postulates, they many-a-times form the complete post, but are they always essential. Does one use it to lure the visitors into their content, are the words not strong enough that they require pictures, does one want to enlarge the post, does the picture complement the words, is it more likely that a visitor looks at pictures and does not read the entire post, for too many words after certain time appear like blah, blah, blah! Continue reading

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!

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.

Payback Time is here!

CloudBurst

 Crime of town,
land beneath concrete, down,
impeccable scheme,
glare occupies cemented cream,
boots tick, sing to public,
trees figured, the likes of cubic,
clean, no leaf rested,
like trash in smutty cans, isolated.
No soil, not a trace
there, ‘in museum’. Am I supposed to embrace?
look, on roof, that 100 storey building,
a garden, soil, flowery thing,
lovely. Can I also have a tree?
No, they’re obscure, don’t you see!
Why? then what sustains land per Se,
concrete, it’s a cliche.

Some time, after a week
aggressing drops, on my cheek,
heavily pounding, one of the worst,
clouds broke, hailing cloudburst
crammed sophisticated schemes
jammed ‘let go’ systems, concrete topped off with streams,
flooding in flash, thundered below,
splash, bunking boots, traces of soil, solo
descending from roof, remember the solicited garden,
trash afloat, leaves too. What? That’s ludicrous! Isn’t it urban
No, not today, sorrier than rural
precluded joy, live carnage of people
acclivity of water
escalating, nothing seems to better
faces in dismay, can’t assure lurking tear,
such is the wrath of water, severe.

Incited by prompt “Thunderstorms, Floods and Water Fury

UNTITLED

The poem is accredited to” The Thursday Think Tank“. Writing a poem, untitled, empty mind, no pre-plan, just accord with as-said time.

 

TIME throttling my MIND

 

Setting clock for divvied time,
with passing seconds, forget the rhyme,
in summers of blistering sun, chained,
free rein, breeze at last, today it rained,
oh! yes, I’m alive, let me text a friend,
no Armageddon to world’s end,
had planned “cold steel” ere bed,
watched “water for elephants” instead,
world of circus, life’s poignant scent,
“stallions of steel” on hold, at present,
but my mind, empty like puppet’s,
owing to winging hour, subduing brainy circuits,
cannot tattle anymore, unparalleled score,
rent me some more, I will talk, for sure!

What is DESIRE?

What is desire?
is it,
the reason I aspire,
on my life, a satire,
calculated, envisioned tomorrow’s self,
temptation, longing to see “there” myself,
an ambition as tastes success,
an avocation as not gold,
hope as today is bleak,
dream as it is forgotten,
trust as credited past,
envy as emotions crumble,
love as it’s binding,
lust as attraction’s blind,
generosity as not crippled by self loathing,
greed as enough’s not warranted,
adjustment as survival is compelling,
stagnant as loss shadows success,
a compliance to deadly sins,
a submission to the grace of God.