abhijitupasani - Tumblr blog

[abhijitupasani]

May 16 midnight, trying to get it back by pretending to be motivating others while trying to get out of the bed every morning.

May 14, 1915 The Diaries of Franz Kafka 1914-1923 [May 8. Lost all regularity in writing. END ID]

[abhijitupasani]

Awakening

"life, it doesn't come at you, it comes out of you." when was the last time you felt happy for a genuine reason? not as a reaction to something around you, but something within you? i curled in the bed for a few more minutes today, i wrote a poem on the topic i was waiting so long for, i felt the joy of talking to the wind while learning to ride a bike, i was able to cook the most perfect noodles at home. nothing, in this world forces you to be embodied to a shape, prisoners don't feel they are trapped until they see the wrapped chains, birds in a cage feel it's criminal to fly outside, people earning on a desk job call it growth, even the birds are fed regularly in their cage, but the ones who take the leap and get the food, tasted life in the sweetest way. most people don't accept they can be loved, or if there is someone out there for them, until they experience the warmth of love. you do have a face worth calling beautiful, you do have a fantastic body worth calling attractive, you do have a talent others fail to identify, you do have a potential to achieve milestones people find unreal, the only missing piece of the puzzle is the 'awakening'. you are in a prison, and sadly, one thing is sure, no one is coming to bail you out, it's only you. hoping to see you flying out of the cage soon.

[abhijitupasani]

there rules a singular fate,

leaves rustled maniacally before falling off,

the blue flame did a dance before blowing out,

so did our hearts,

before we pulled them out and squeezed them, trying to find love.

[abhijitupasani]

a stupid organ starts pumping vigorously, making the skin around sweat, the bones around weak, and suddenly there are broken men, writing postcards written in blood, in the clouds of smoke emptying the bottles in booze. reading them are crying women, with dreams shattered as the kitchen glassware that they threw at the dark walls, finding a rope long enough and strong enough to play a last swing. there rules a singular fate, leaves rustled maniacally before falling off, the blue flame did a dance before blowing out, so did our hearts, before we pulled them out and squeezed them, trying to find love. infatuations were mistaken as affections, and desires were, as love, you were mistaken as a half, and ended up as a nothing, with dry flowers over the coffin. ---inspired from Bukowski's 'alone with everybody'

[abhijitupasani]

i haven't written a good poem in months, i have been listening to all kinds of music, songs do many a times help paint the exact shades of your pain. i have been giving my best, trying to find the right train, but on the wrong station. sunsets seem incomplete, you see, the crimson hues don't appear to be magical, if seen from a window everyday. there is something i am trying to hide, but there are a lot of things i am struggling to show. it's almost mid-summer in my eyes, it's too dry for even a tear to drop down the land of cheeks. there are many things that i am failing in, which coincidentally are the things i thrive for, but there are some people along, trying to pull my buried head out from the ground, i am fighting for them

[abhijitupasani]

i have seen the faint echoes of woes turn into the loudest noises in my brains,

i have seen my most transparent glasses turn into mirrors which show me my face,

with "fool" written on my forehead,

for certain days, i battled fiercely with myself to wipe them off me,

and spent the nights crying, waking up from the mirror nightmare's grasp.

but now i have resigned to despair,

i live in a house of reflections people around have about me,

i sit on a chair comfortably with a pen in my hand and a rock in the other.

[abhijitupasani]

Carving out some lines on my palm so destiny makes you love me,

I am tired, maybe it wasn't written after all.

[abhijitupasani]

a gloomy heart's crescendo, arises when i try to interrogate with my heart, it always hides under a veil woven from intricate threads of fear which make my voices disperse and keep hitting me back.

each time i try to collect the pieces of my broken spirit, asking the rationale behind the state of these pieces, i only hear a word "fear". fear in owning the emotions and losing the beloveds.

the soul shivers from the discomfort of losing everything i have, the limbs tremble with each day passing anew and seeing myself get buried under layers of dust and still at the end of the day i come back only to find that i have no shelter to hide beneath.

so now take me into your shelter god, for i know you are my eternal source of power. take my fear away, please.

[abhijitupasani]

It's hard to write on what you don't believe in, "God?" they asked, "Love."

How love feels to me sometimes

[abhijitupasani]

4th Mar 24

it's midnight and i realise, i am the soul of a poet trapped in a mediocre, pale body draped in the garments of a hunter,

"your pen won't bring you food, the spear will."

they try to mould me into being one of them, and every time they do, the poem remains incomplete

[abhijitupasani]

i still see fog in my eyesight, i can naturally take only one step at a time. i can only work on the present with the things in my control.

one step each day.

[abhijitupasani]

life and time filters out people for you, you just have to wait. head down, get shit done.

i am leaving things, people behind me. i am running away from the crowd, not even to see who will follow.

it feels bad at first, it feels as if we are missing out on something, but believe it, it's worth sacrificing.

[abhijitupasani]

i read a quote today: to make you great, first god isolates you from everyone.

and something happened which made me experience it. i am now away from everything, hope for some good reason and result.

[abhijitupasani]

could i be a poem some day? because being a poet is formidable, right from putting on the beholder glasses, to find the grace in someone's ruins, to empathise with a dead soul, to cut a piece of your heart and give it out to them to resuscitate them, but end up being walked over, i am tired to again start over.

being a poet is formidable, i come back with the roses you reject, deciding that's it, I'm done loving and then i, open my diary and read my own poems, still finding your essence in each word. you can kill down a thousand loves but they still breathe in your sonnets, thus become immortal and then haunt you in those nightmares.

but being a poet might be riveting, because you see, the afterlife of the romantic poem i wrote, is to be a mnemonic apparatus, jogging my memories up, i just take away your name from it, and enter the realm of imagination, where someone accepts my roses.

[abhijitupasani]

reminding myself that i am up for running on the days i don't even feel like standing up. the trembling hands and wobbly legs have a story to tell, and this story doesn't end tragically, it sure lengthens because of the hurdles, but it's the tough ones who get going. my story demands me to not lose might, even on the darkest nights, i need to be the light guiding myself through. and as Ved says, "pasand nahi aayi ending? toh badal do", it's not the end until it's how i want to be.

[abhijitupasani]

14 years and the entrainment theory still did not ring a bell in my heart, or even if it did a few times, i never resonated with any other sound since. but i still believe, because you said so, Rizwan said so. Mandira struck your heart even before you barely saw her.

rizwan taught me that even the world is divided into people that are either good or bad, choose to be good everyday with courage. it takes a man to risk his tenability to keep the promises he makes with the people he loves. it takes a man to have courage to accept what he is and be unwaveringly proud of it, love in spite of all the troubles that come across.

"jab bhi darr ka ehsaas hota hai, sajade mein sar jhuka deta hoon"

and i do, too. a man needs to be gritty but at times of distress, he needs to believe in that one power which makes things go the right way. even on the days it's all dark for you, believe in Him, the light at the end of the tunnel.

[abhijitupasani]

i have a song,

or two

which reminds me of you,

of us, perhaps

so to make myself feel good,

i assume you still hear it,

and sometimes,

miss me.

i remember how you

forced me to

listen to this song,

and how you liked this

one particular line,

how love has no colors

but only white,

selfess, tranquil, unshakable

as it should be,

a homogeneous mixture

of all the colors

like you had,

an army of personalities inside,

which i fell for,

everytime.

woah! memories refreshed,

happens everytime

i pull that string,

maybe you should try it too,

or maybe...

you already do.