Friday, February 26, 2016
Monday, January 26, 2015
Humility
“Stay hungry, stay young, stay foolish, stay curious, and above all,
stay humble because just when you think you got all the answers, is the
moment when some bitter twist of fate in the universe will remind you
that you very much don't.”
― Tom Hiddleston
― Tom Hiddleston
The only thing I look for in people are a sense of humour and their humility. I don't seem to have the patience anymore to deal with or bolster ego's. Sadly, this has meant the end of some dear friendships that spanned several years and has made me contemplate what I desire out of a friendship. My advice to anyone reading this blog is that they stay humble despite their background or social status. As Dostoyevsky once said - "The soul is healed by being around Children". Which to me means that in order for us to find true happiness we need to be around people who do not conform to norms, those who are secure in their innocence and those who see no difference in man - no colour, no background, no religion. Those who think very highly of themselves are the worst influence to have in one's life, because they corrupt and torment the soul. They fill it with greed, anger and hatred. Such Pride is poison and until it dies, nothing of heaven can live within you.
Sunday, December 14, 2014
The Muse
She walks
in beauty with her Mona Lisa smile
Taming even the most wildest of wild
Their hearts fall victim to raging fires
That burn and burn till midnight hours
And I am one of those that show the symptoms
I am Picasso, I am George Byron
In matters of love I remain silent
For my work of her bares the roar of a lion.
If I described her, you would not believe
how her hair flows like poetry down her cheeks
Or how her lips are where the ocean and the shore meet
Or that her eyes, encompass still water than runs deep
Yes, Because of her many men have lost their sleep.
Taming even the most wildest of wild
Their hearts fall victim to raging fires
That burn and burn till midnight hours
And I am one of those that show the symptoms
I am Picasso, I am George Byron
In matters of love I remain silent
For my work of her bares the roar of a lion.
If I described her, you would not believe
how her hair flows like poetry down her cheeks
Or how her lips are where the ocean and the shore meet
Or that her eyes, encompass still water than runs deep
Yes, Because of her many men have lost their sleep.
She is
the proud evening star, admired from afar
Mid
planets are her slaves, her beam on ripples and waves
Her
reflection on the Rhone, is for what Van Gogh is best known
She has
drove many to madness and plunged some into greatness
I am one
of those inspired by her soul
I am
Edgar Allen Poe and she is Helen
Decades
of history weaved into her fabric
No place
is big enough for her beauty not earth, nor heaven.
I do not
speak merely of her looks; I speak of the prose within her book
Her
compassion is unmatched by any mortal I have met
She is
selfless and gives her all without regret
Her drive
and her spirit can wake the dead
For she
is life itself and the unknown that lies ahead.
Friday, November 14, 2014
If a writer falls in love with you, you can never die
If a writer falls in love with you, you can never die
"When a writer falls in love with you, you become immortal.
When a writer falls in love with
you, you become the unwitting inspiration of a whole mess of spilled ink. You
become all nine muses to a lone typewriter.
You become the lyrics to a melody, the syllables of iambic pentameter,
the plotline of a fantastic adventure. One day you will be reading and you will
find yourself trapped in the middle of pages. When a writer falls in love with
you, you will find yourself in lives you never lived and characters you never
knew. The writer won't always intend for
you to be there, but you will find yourself in the little things... a
background character with a similar lisp, familiar flecks of green in the eyes
of a hero, a stupid joke you once told now immortalized in ink. The ring you always wear on the middle finger
of your right hand will suddenly appear on a character who shares no physical
attributes with you-- but you are there in the subtleties. You'll discover
yourself in narrators and scapegoats and irrelevant side-characters: all
characters who aren't you, but whose hair bears an incredible likeness to
yours, or who love the same absurd Swedish rap band, or who cry at the same old
Disney movie, or whose third tooth is chipped just like yours. Sometimes you
will find yourself blushing at an obvious reveal-- a love interest that could
not bear more likeness to yourself, or a poem that so directly describes your
situation that you can't help but assume, or a character that sounds like you
except a thousand times better than you ever thought of yourself. Other times,
you won't even recognize the subtle characteristics that relate this character
to the love the author feels for you.
You see, when a writer falls in
love with you, their words will reveal you in ways you had never imagined
yourself. When a writer falls in love with you, you may sometimes find yourself
at the end of a loaded pen; you may find yourself holding a piece of paper on
which your writer has inscribed the universe in a few lines. You may find
yourself with words that overwhelm you. If a writer truly falls for you, you
may become the unknowing recipient of hidden love letters composed of stars and
light. You may even be lucky enough to be the knowing recipient of a love
letter in which you are painted in shades of sky. The writer won't intend to
make you so visionary, but they won't really be able to help it, because
suddenly the words they treasure so dearly cease to be enough. They'll write to
you and about you, over and over-- on pages full of scribbles and crossed out
lines, because in their minds, they will be repeatedly failing to do you
justice.
If a writer falls in love with you,
they will begin to see you everywhere.
There will be obvious comparisons in the writer's mind between the two
of you and the couples in every book read and movie watched. But more than that, your writer will start to
find you in day to day moments. You will be thought of as autumn leaves are
gently lifted into the wind. You will be remembered in cool breezes on hot
summer days and warm fires on cold winter evenings. To the writer that cares,
your laugh will be present in the pitter-patter of spring rain on dry earth.
You will be remembered likewise as the ribbon of the typewriter spins. The
front of the mind, the tip of the pen-- that's where you will be. Even if your
place in the life of a writer is ephemeral, if you are loved, you are
eternal. When a writer loves you, they
cannot help but write about you as they discover you in the universe around
them.
When a writer loves you, you can never
die, because long after you are gone, those words will remain, and in them,
you-- immortalized in ink."
Repost from The Memories of a Gemini:
Repost from The Memories of a Gemini:
Saturday, November 8, 2014
Shots fired
"Shots Fired." "Officer Down"
The Navy Yard is a killing ground.
High above the Atrium floor,
The first person shooter
wants to run up his score.
I enter the atrium and dive for the wall
as singing death pays my partner a call.
"Officer down, building 197"
He's a lucky one, his Kevlar vest saved him.
I crawl on my belly towards the stairs.
Will he add to his total ere I make it there?
I pass the corpse of a pretty girl,
with a puzzled look upon her face.
A red rose blooms from her white blouse.
Fear flees as anger takes its place.
The swat team enters and exchanges fire.
I make the stairwell and start creeping higher.
I remove my shoes and in stocking feet
I silently climb toward the deadly sounds
I stumble upon a security guard
Who nevermore will make his rounds.
What happened next, I'll always remember
about this deadly dark September.
A deep breath to calm me,
I chambered a round.
Was it my shot that brought
the mad murderer down?
There were many shots fired
That terrible day
As hunter, become hunted,
was brought to bay.
I checked on my partner.
I called my wife.
I am more than happy to get on with life.
The shooter is on the coroner's table.
I write up the incident as best as I'm able.
I left out the part about the girl
Who has gone, we hope, to a better world.
She gave me courage, she banished fear
She is probably the reason that I'm still here.
The Navy Yard is a killing ground.
High above the Atrium floor,
The first person shooter
wants to run up his score.
I enter the atrium and dive for the wall
as singing death pays my partner a call.
"Officer down, building 197"
He's a lucky one, his Kevlar vest saved him.
I crawl on my belly towards the stairs.
Will he add to his total ere I make it there?
I pass the corpse of a pretty girl,
with a puzzled look upon her face.
A red rose blooms from her white blouse.
Fear flees as anger takes its place.
The swat team enters and exchanges fire.
I make the stairwell and start creeping higher.
I remove my shoes and in stocking feet
I silently climb toward the deadly sounds
I stumble upon a security guard
Who nevermore will make his rounds.
What happened next, I'll always remember
about this deadly dark September.
A deep breath to calm me,
I chambered a round.
Was it my shot that brought
the mad murderer down?
There were many shots fired
That terrible day
As hunter, become hunted,
was brought to bay.
I checked on my partner.
I called my wife.
I am more than happy to get on with life.
The shooter is on the coroner's table.
I write up the incident as best as I'm able.
I left out the part about the girl
Who has gone, we hope, to a better world.
She gave me courage, she banished fear
She is probably the reason that I'm still here.
This amazing amazing poem was shared with me by a former co worker of mine. When I first read it, I could relate to every word written and it reminded me of Zimbabwe. Because this is such an unusual poem, I wanted to share it with everyone.
Apart from bringing back alot of haunting memories, this poem brought a couple of songs to mind, that I used to listen to, to give my soul some peace. These songs are dark and morbid but at the same time they are about achieving internal peace.
Let me die in my footsteps (Bob Dylan cover)
Trevor Willmott also did a cover of Radiohead's Videotape, which you guys should look up. Also look up radiohead's videotape song in reverse, it is agonizingly beautiful.
Friday, November 7, 2014
Pages of a book
"Do you think the universe fights for souls to be together?
Some things are too strange and strong to be coincidences."
-Emery Allen
I wonder if there will be a morning when you’ll wake up missing
me. That some incident in your life would have finally taught you the
value of my worth. And you will feel a surge of longing, when you
remember how I was good to you.
When this day comes I hope you you will look for me. I hope you will
look with the kind of conviction I’d always hope for, but never had from
you. Because I want to be found. And I hope it will be you - who finds
me."
-Lang Leav
"A gentle reminder that your heart is a
muscle and so should be exercised regularly,
love often and love deeply."
-Beau Taplin
"The loneliest people are the kindest. The saddest people smile the brightest. The most damaged of people are the wisest. All because they do not wish to see anyone else suffer the way they do."
-Unknown.
I got a book from a friend, a belated birthday gift to help inspire me to write again. These are some of the quotes that I found beautiful, that I wanted to share with you guys.
Sunday, October 26, 2014
The Cycle
Oh I struggle to believe, baby
That I was in love with you
Well I was humbled by your beauty
They said you’re a lot to loose
Yes, every time you kissed me
I would get dazed and you'd be amused
You’d linger on my lips
Like raindrops on a roof
Every drop I’d succumb
I was weak to your wicked moves.
Oh I struggle to believe, baby
How I could have been with you
Well I was humbled by your spirit
And how you play by your own rules
You knew what you wanted
Wouldn’t settle for any less
You were perfectionism
Did everything to impress
Nobody could have you
because you’d play with the hearts
Of those you choose
They lost everything
And you had nothing to loose
But you ain’t having my heart
No, no you ain’t having mine
No more.
You better believe it, baby
I’m stronger from being with you
And now I play by my own rules
Those rules I learned from you
There used to be a time
When my heart was easily bruised
But you broke it so many times
That my mind told my heart it’s through
There was only pain in loving you
And now you ain’t having my heart
No, no you ain’t having me
No more.
Oh I struggle to believe, baby
That I was ever in love with you
You stuck me with a bitter taste of love
That will linger on to those that come
after you.
I wrote this about a friend's heartbreak. The idea is that heartbreak is a cycle, when you get your heart broken sometimes you inadvertently end up breaking someone's heart, and that person has no idea what he/she has coming.
P.s. - Just wanted to share this song, it's pretty good. Romantic and empowering, G-Eazy is sorta like the Beyonce of rap.
G-Eazy - Alone
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xZz6OEK0icM
P.s. - Just wanted to share this song, it's pretty good. Romantic and empowering, G-Eazy is sorta like the Beyonce of rap.
G-Eazy - Alone
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xZz6OEK0icM
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