Death is strange. It is irreparable right ? It seems powerful than Life just because it can put an end to Life.
Strange - something that kills the other gets the power on it. Anyways, death annoys me. It seems so clear and easy way out.
Death comes as an achievement to those who want to stay away / run from Life. It brings some irreversible changes in what we do , what we feel and the way we think. Witnessing a death is just so damn painful. It kills something in you. You thought you know it all and have lived great way. You believed you are going to stay forever to caress all your ambitions to cherish every thing you love. But then suddenly you meet a dead man walking in the street!!. You had no idea of his Life or whether he too is mortal. You are humming your tune and are sweeping in the multitudes of dead people, not at all aware of it. You know you are alive becoz your lungs are puffed with air, heart with feelings and mind with a lot of dreams most of them being impossible ones ;) .
Wow how lively is that. You don't know any other ways of living than dreaming. You were dreamy from the time when you were just a dream of your mom. So on one of the impossible dreamy days ..you flow like casually written poems into the journal of Life and then the shit happens to you.
You try to share the Life with someone around you as - to Live is to flow to unknowns.
You carry on talking to people and what flows in your ideas is music, beats , beauty, love and heart. You expect these are the ingredients of blood that keeps us alive. You presume that blood flows through all.
But no !! they are not real baby.
You think they smiled on your casual hi .. oh sweetie .. they are the mechanical devices programmed to act this way. You know what .. they have an exact set of behaviour for every act of yours. They look as human as you. You know what they said ?
they do not like music, every melody sounds boring and sleepy to them .. they don't understand most of the beautiful words. They can't take the poems .. its a riddle for them. They are in a constant rush to proceed ahead in their journey to absolutely nowhere. They do not paint , feeling colors is beyond their psuedo intellectual traits. They call it getting hands dirty. Their laughs are as hollow as their chase of nothingness.
Stories .. ah .. they are such a waste of time.
Watching the stars in the sky on a breezy night under the moonlight .. that's weird to them. I have no idea how to handle encounters with such people in streets. And you know what they think of themselves ? Bloody unique, special and different. They are just so sure and proud of their hollowness that it scares me to depths. They would make a casual remark on your lively Life ... with stoned eyes devoid of any emotion or knowledge about anything and you feel like punching them in the face. You feel like shouting, telling them to just fuck off and carry on with their dead programmed stereotyped Lives. Tell them to Continue cribbing people , saying stupid things with little knowledge about reality.
Reality ... excuse me ? that seeks a level of honesty , that needs an eye of insight, an introspection , a thinking which is less infected by pseudotypes , hypocrisy and show off.
They can be anything but real. They are the materialistic dummies, the fake painted infectious zombies .. the evil zombies. They are just everywhere.They are in people who prefer being on a smart phone than in a smart company, who are too busy on their way to office to notice a plant which started blooming this spring, who give absurd impossible ideas in the meetings just to show off that they are more dead than other deads in room :-D.
They are the ones who don't know Gulzar, those who don't listen to music, who don't know what Sufi is, say they rate Rock music, don't like Euphoria/Strings/Coke studios and claim to be great programmers.
They are infectious beware !!! They may try to suck Life out of you by their material traits and ambitions, remember how they feed on blood (Life). They are great manipulators. They may make you fall in intellectual trap.
They are the dead people and I can't handle dead people.
Strange - something that kills the other gets the power on it. Anyways, death annoys me. It seems so clear and easy way out.
Death comes as an achievement to those who want to stay away / run from Life. It brings some irreversible changes in what we do , what we feel and the way we think. Witnessing a death is just so damn painful. It kills something in you. You thought you know it all and have lived great way. You believed you are going to stay forever to caress all your ambitions to cherish every thing you love. But then suddenly you meet a dead man walking in the street!!. You had no idea of his Life or whether he too is mortal. You are humming your tune and are sweeping in the multitudes of dead people, not at all aware of it. You know you are alive becoz your lungs are puffed with air, heart with feelings and mind with a lot of dreams most of them being impossible ones ;) .
Wow how lively is that. You don't know any other ways of living than dreaming. You were dreamy from the time when you were just a dream of your mom. So on one of the impossible dreamy days ..you flow like casually written poems into the journal of Life and then the shit happens to you.
You try to share the Life with someone around you as - to Live is to flow to unknowns.
You carry on talking to people and what flows in your ideas is music, beats , beauty, love and heart. You expect these are the ingredients of blood that keeps us alive. You presume that blood flows through all.
But no !! they are not real baby.
You think they smiled on your casual hi .. oh sweetie .. they are the mechanical devices programmed to act this way. You know what .. they have an exact set of behaviour for every act of yours. They look as human as you. You know what they said ?
they do not like music, every melody sounds boring and sleepy to them .. they don't understand most of the beautiful words. They can't take the poems .. its a riddle for them. They are in a constant rush to proceed ahead in their journey to absolutely nowhere. They do not paint , feeling colors is beyond their psuedo intellectual traits. They call it getting hands dirty. Their laughs are as hollow as their chase of nothingness.
Stories .. ah .. they are such a waste of time.
Watching the stars in the sky on a breezy night under the moonlight .. that's weird to them. I have no idea how to handle encounters with such people in streets. And you know what they think of themselves ? Bloody unique, special and different. They are just so sure and proud of their hollowness that it scares me to depths. They would make a casual remark on your lively Life ... with stoned eyes devoid of any emotion or knowledge about anything and you feel like punching them in the face. You feel like shouting, telling them to just fuck off and carry on with their dead programmed stereotyped Lives. Tell them to Continue cribbing people , saying stupid things with little knowledge about reality.
Reality ... excuse me ? that seeks a level of honesty , that needs an eye of insight, an introspection , a thinking which is less infected by pseudotypes , hypocrisy and show off.
They can be anything but real. They are the materialistic dummies, the fake painted infectious zombies .. the evil zombies. They are just everywhere.They are in people who prefer being on a smart phone than in a smart company, who are too busy on their way to office to notice a plant which started blooming this spring, who give absurd impossible ideas in the meetings just to show off that they are more dead than other deads in room :-D.
They are the ones who don't know Gulzar, those who don't listen to music, who don't know what Sufi is, say they rate Rock music, don't like Euphoria/Strings/Coke studios and claim to be great programmers.
They are infectious beware !!! They may try to suck Life out of you by their material traits and ambitions, remember how they feed on blood (Life). They are great manipulators. They may make you fall in intellectual trap.
They are the dead people and I can't handle dead people.
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