A Poem Rumi Forgot to Complete

Was this necessary?  Of course, an extreme necessity! Couldn't resist.  New fuck ups.  New themes.  New psychology.  New people.  But where is the difference? Everything is just a repeated cycle of the same old bullshit.  Where to go? What to deny? What to accept? What to reject? Same emotionally immature, narcissists, toxic people! Same questions Same answers Same faces Same facades Same fakeness What was new? Where is new? What to write, what not to write? What to express? What not to express? Everything is just a repetition of the same old patterns. What to break, what not to?  Where to go, where not to go? Who would tell? Whom to ask? Was God listening? Is God listening? Is he watching? Was he watching? Will he shut the voices in my head? Will he not? Why wouldn't he? Why would he? Sick of sameness, sick of nothingness, sick of everything, sick of nothing.  Isn't it denial? Isn't it a sin? Isn't it a crime?  What to think, what not t...

 And those eyes of yours,  Am I allowed to drown in them? Will you shed me in tears?  Or will you keep me lock and safe?  Will you open or close them? Or will you just chase my dreams? Will I be drown in the depth of your sadness? Will you catch me with all your happiness? Will you make me cry? Or will you sit beside me until my tears dry? Am I just chasing shadows? Or will you be with me in all highs and lows?

 And then I try to write. To vent. To rant my heart out. But, The choices, the mistakes, the love, the regrets, the passion, the desire, the demons, the respect, the reason, the logic, the emotions - everything - seem to disappear like they never existed.  From where should I start?  There's no beginning , no ending - just a vicious cycle - that keeps on repeating over and over again . My biggest regret will always be hurting people with pure intentions. I never wanted to but somehow I always did.  How to let go of that guilt?   There's no way, right? We have to live with it till the end.  The end that has faded like our old versions. And that's why we carry that guilt each day, hoping to never make the same mistake again but somehow we always make that exact choice/decision.   Shutting people off, isolating ourselves, and not talking to anybody help?  Sylvia Plath writes, " I need a father. I need a mother . I need some older, wiser b...

And suddenly nothing makes sense. It never did, we just hoped that someday we would be fine or eventually we would get what we needed/wanted. The reality was just disenchanted.  Every 90's kid was told that one day you're gonna win big, the lies that were fed to us, have eaten us alive.  We are still hoping for that fairytale romance, a dream job, peace of mind and God knows what. In this economic turmoil, I can't even take care of my expenses let alone the self-care.  They kept on telling us one day everything was gonna be alright, we would make it, you'll be this, you'll be that. God damn it, I am 28 and I am still here in 2019 - broke, single, inexperienced, living in a rental apartment, own no car and don't ask me about my mental health.  Each day feels like a losing battle against time. Everything that was told to you, to me, to us, everything was a lie. It never gets better. We are not gonna have our childhood or teenage days back. We are just living dead ...

 Have you ever seen the face of a person who has lost everything?  Perhaps, you haven't.  And I pray you may never see it. You know I tried. By God, I did my best.  But we can't make them sane, we never will.  With age, comes maturity, they say.  With responsibility, comes maturity. I don't agree with any of these notions.  No one can do it except God.  Sanity comes to whomever He wishes.  Responsibility comes to whomever He wishes.  And I am done.  I have burnt all my desires to ashes.  I have lost my soul. And I have no desire to get it back.  If you ever wish to see a person who's lost everything,  Just meet me in the middle of nowhere. 

 And then ...   There must be something missing - a void - for it is necessary.  The melancholy of man  can't  be described  by someone who has fulfilled all his desires. The grief, the emptiness, the bleakness is nothing but an artist's perspective. All those great  artists,  the world has ever  produced,  had to go through something ineffable. What if there was no pain? What if there was no grief? What if there was no sadness? Don't you think how empty the world could have been?  The darkness of life makes a man ponder over everything.  I know,  I know it is absurd, I know life has no meaning, everything is meaningless, there is no purpose of life  and  we are lost because we are trying to make sense of  everything,  when there is nothing but an infinite despair. Every decision is a decision against something else. You step into the shoes of rebellion and leave the conformist behaviour. But, then agai...

I died today. Or yesterday or maybe that day when I realized nothing made sense anymore. But I died. How  did I  die? I don't know.  But,  why  did I  die?  Sigh. The list is long , don't you think?   Maybe,  your words killed me.  Maybe,  that day, you said something that pierced into my ears, tearing my eardrums  apart,  and losing my hearing abilities.  Or maybe, that  day,  when father showed his disappointment in me, making me feel like a cockroach - naah, not a cockroach but something more disgusting, like an insect who  cannot  do anything except be a burden on others.  Or  maybe,  that  day,  when my mother scolded me for being too needy, killing all my emotions, feelings, and passions.  Oh, no  honey . I couldn't die possibly because of these things.  I was  tougher  than that.  Then what killed me? Now, when I recall, I don't remember...

You guys ask if I have forgotten about my blog. Absolutely Not! But something has happened - life! Life happened! This morning, I was thinking about the topic for today's blog but couldn't find one. Isn't it strange?  You want to write about your thoughts  but   you  just  can't find the right words,  the right  emotions, and all that.   You are feeling everything , deep  down  you  know what you want to write about, what you need to communicate about  but  you  just  can't make people see it the way you see it.  This  leads me to another  thing,  the people!  This week has made me realize the importance of people. People are so freaking necessary  but  not all people. People with whom you can share your pain, who speak your language, who don't need words to know what  are you  thinking, who can be with you in the darkest moments of your life.  I  don't agree...

 And sometimes, we just can't! Despite all the love, feelings, and emotions; sometimes we must let people go and prioritize ourselves. It is hard but when the efforts are not mutual, letting go is the better option. And how hard it is for us to kill the love we have for someone and be neutral with it? Why no one talks about it? The hurt that comes with one-sided efforts and love, why no one talks about it? And why no one talks about the sneaky love? Why do we have to be careful with our hearts? Why can't we just get the one we love? Why they don't love us back? Why we are nothing for them? Why it happens? Why do we fall in love with the red-flag people and ignore the green flags? Why? Isn't it weird? With all the love we have, do we have to just sit silently and let them slip away from our lives? Sigh! 

  Design by Author (Copyrighted Content) What a stupid question! Of course, poetry matters. But, the question is why? Why does it matter? Why it is essential to have a literary personality - no I am not talking about self-help books. Poetry is the way to heaven, it is done when we can't describe feelings in words - not even in fiction.  Can Poetry Matter? It can matter if you have the right mindset. It liberates people. What life would be like if there was no poetry? Isn't the world would be so boring? People like me rely on the beauty of words. Words that tear us apart, words that would kill us, and make us think about our whole existence. But, why does it matter? Why does poetry matter? Ever wondered how a few words can shake your whole world? You whole perspectives of the world? Of thoughts, of opinions? Of everything you believe? It might not be making sense to you if poetry is just poetry for you but for me, it is a doorway to a whole new world like Artificial Intelligenc...

"Was I just dreaming?"  Was he? His mother was repeatedly screaming over him– screaming and screaming, in that voice of hers. God, he wanted to shut her down but he was not his usual self in this dream– or maybe his usual self wasn’t him here. Who was he? He could barely pin anything down. She screamed and screamed at him to get out of bed, so he did. He got up and out of bed, and he stared at her. His mother went silent.  He went downstairs and ate breakfast, but as he sat eating, he realized that he had no idea who he was. He had no idea about his profession, age or anything. He didn’t even know his name.  It occurred to him that he might ask his mother who he was– but no. Somehow, he was sure that it would be no use, asking her. Then, a strange thought wriggled into his head.  He wanted to see her dead body.  The body he loved the most, but never touched. He knew he was in a dream but he also knew something else, in that strange dream-way– something more magi...

Screams in the Night He was losing his mind.  He had already lost it.  But that night, oh that cruel night! How could he forget that damn cruel nasty night!-- when he lost everything! His ego, his attitude, his life, his dreams, his parents– everything he worked for. Even his job.  Just because of that damn crow. Suddenly, this crow here before him became unattractive. Suddenly, crows were no longer his favorite. Suddenly, he lost the will– the determination to kill this crow. It would have brought him no satisfaction.  He was indecisive. For the first time in his life, he was indecisive. He wanted to kill that damn crow but at the same time, he wanted to protect it.  What exactly did he need?  He had no clue.  "Am I just being insane? Or the world has gone mad?"  Suddenly, a new urge– he needed to make a coffee. Yes, he needed to make a coffee. So he went to the kitchen and made a cup of coffee, delicious and hot. But he was not going to drink it...