Miranda #2

The cold winter night made my parachute oil frozen to it’s soul in the bottle. My fuzz was in the air dancing in party mode. Today there a party in Bold Sphere street, Mr. Airbus was so excited about that it. I wish to make a night walk. I love night walks. Night time is the glorious time of universe.. She walk with a moon in her hand and there is something haunting in the moonlight.

Mad Boingus is not a hedonistic pleasure place of bikini girls dancing on the beach and partying the night away in a psychedelically lit disco. But’… yes the city is round the clock nightlife with vibrant live music scenes.. singular cuisines.. And the mad people who say “you could never buy the music in the store”.

After a pleasure walk I stepped into the pie – diagram area, that girl was sitting right on there at the point where my eyes first blinked!

announcement :

Nearly 25 years after the release of it’s eponymous Blue album, Weezer is still enjoying the success and rocking the crowds.. Currently the band is touring behind it’s eleventh audio album…

Woo… Yeah… Wooo yeah.. Weezer!! Weezer!! Weezer!!.. “

Every one is on their feet. Cheers, whistles, colour papers, champagne… But the girl look calm. I thought she must be in some sore, sitting, non-moving. She is like wearing a mixture of weird cloths and mix of different fashions together with a cup of champagne on the table, unattended. No wonder!! If she is a cynical too.

I wish i could talk to her, little awkward though. I take a glass of white sparkling wine just for the heck of it and moved to her.

Nice dress” I said.

Rainbow bowler hat yea!!” She sound like a punk rock to me.

I feel like you are carrying a beautiful name” I heartily exclaimed.

Miranda!! My name.. ” she mumbled.

Haha.. look around there’s so many Evans here” I said. “Look at that bunch of Aussie backpackers… Pretty cool guys

Yea true! Just some load of emo shit” she bellowed.

Ohh? So sonic! You could call it youth” I said while taking my seat.

We laughed and she move her cup of champagne towards me – offering??

“Cheers!!!”

She take some sips after making that tling sound with my glass. Uhhh.. so finally i managed to lick at the edge of glass.

So you don’t drink?” She said grimly.

I smiled. She nodded and grab my ugly mustache, twisting – twisting – twisting and tangled it. May be boingus way of punishment to temperance, I guess.

“Why won’t you join the party” I said.

” Ohh do you want me to join. Mmm..Mmm… ” she improvised.

I nodded be like i want see what you are going to do. She then stand tall on the chair and raise the quarter filled cup in the air.

“Uhhu-hhahha-hhoooh!!! This isn’t old weezer, this doesn’t sound like PINKERTON!” She nearly barked there. I slowly stand up from the chair and stared at her. She bounced from the chair and tapped on my butt.

“Hhaa.. when it comes to hitting chicks here, it does matter... when you are brown” she giggled and immersed in to the Tsunami of vibrants.

Airbus was wrong. She is not a waster. She is flamboyant, an exuberant girl..

Miranda #1

Today as usual, I’m searching in another city to get some shitting papers signed. I live like a damn auto corrected word in the world of android phones. Peoples often come to my life with a rally of opinions. But all I just want is to remote myself from every human I know. The truth I know is nobody can love you as much as you. But’ you can’t live loving yourself alone for a long time.. What should I do??

This is City of Mad Boeingus. My first morning here, far better than usual. No busy people living here. Happy and beautiful. Embodying their festive spirit, I remember Maradi gras, the late – winter carnival famed for raucous costumed parades and street parties. But sometimes it is gay and sucks!

Gentle breeze, a carafe full of coffee, me and Mr. Airbus. We were sitting at the terrace of the quarters. Mr. Airbus is twice older than me, a family man. He is arranging the things here for me. The best part about him is that he doesn’t talk much – A very best part. We were whirling around a decent silence and that happened!!

How do yu reckon yur mo&* feels wen people say stuff like that? Hey yu fat ba#* come here

A murder scream hit me, I’m standing at the top of my phone. I just whatsapp how good my morning is and that bipolar female high pitch just spit at my wisdom. Then I saw a girl, she is quarrelling around bulky guys.

Is she is a FEMINIST??” I asked.

Phe-Men-Ist” Airbus wondered like what kind of word is that.

Umm.. nothing nothing!” I unbiased that talk.

I’m actually a quasi – normal person. Not an antique, but too old to be considered as modern. On the other hand, she seemed to be the other pole of mine. “Waster” – Airbus referred her like that, I don’t know why. She carries a air of more bohemian style. I saw her for couple of times, but every time when I encounter her today, my mind was like RUN don’t just walk away hehe..

bohemian

However i was like choose not to met with people, prefer to have a freedom of physical distance. It’s not that people are very oppressive. I usually not make friends. More often than not I’m adopted by another extrovert friend…

I am grateful for them, and for their feeling of being connected with me. My gratitude is nothing spiritual, spiritually my mind is a dump. Putting me in someone’s focal point and disappointed of being not focussed is damn thing. Ugly.

I find there is much joy in dim-light-darkness, my mental to-do lead me to the morbific thoughts in black and white existence. Yeah… Once i led myself to some of the deepest and most consuming feeling of happiness..

“She hold my hand, take me to the garden, we smiled listen to the birds, she always hugged me, i always told her my love”

Things never be the same again. Somehow I have able to taking all the pieces with me and no matter why i carry them. Bohemian?

Let me die – Letter to good friend

Dear good friend,

I still remember your old last words. Now i am going to say that again… “I should change this sadness or escape it before that”. I feel like you won’t wish to come to me again. You will never again pretend to have forgot to love me. It’s okey.

Now.. Every single day, it become a fight. Do i want to live? I don’t know! Life is not fair, a bad dream. And death sought of wake me up. Why do i fear death? She is a wonderful phenomenon. The end of many…

I’m loving her, will embrace her tomorrow if she will not come in me. I go with her to the world of peace or let her die with me in my world. Haha death is dead too for me.

Then.. then there is nothing! Memorize my name. Forgot who i am and my damn memories. I may meet you again in any of your dream. Have a night out of your sleep.

Let me sleep. Light the candles and burn the incense around my bed. Cover my body and eyes with jasmine and rose..

With love

Your less-good friend.

I make no memories

Life is a long story about how you died. My story has started already.

I born. Then came to do all the hard work here on the earth to make thousands of memories. Die one day.

The weird thing is that i hate all this labour toil under the hot sun. The sun has burned my skin. I am so dark. Unlovable… Mine is a life in the life of the hailstones of the hailstones. All the thousand memories seems so empty. Blossom beyond blossoming i saw no flower, no spring..

Some souls never saved in memory. They are to be remembered everyday. They are loved and admired everyday. May i held on; hug you tightly and not let you go. But’ turn your eyes away. Just overcome me. Do not stare at me, i am so dark. Unlovable..

She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes
– Lord Byron

Anbe Shivamagum

For obvious reasons it is no wonder the planet and it’s people are written in pain. You’re one of those people, who believe in some fictional friend in the heaven and his invisible advocates.

Suffering has human form on earth. Suffering is seen as a part of living until we reach moksha.

Aham is the supreme i awareness!

Shivam is liberation!!

Shivam is patron of death and destruction. Truly nothing is destructed, but reincarnation of the state of mind. Between the end of one thought and beginning of other, Shivam exist as a female silence. Shivam embodies her existence.

She is Shivam. She can’t condemn me; supreme Shiva doesn’t believe in heaven or a hell to put me in. In her elegance, my life shine with pure calmness. In her devotion, I reach moksha..

Shivam is love…

Anbe Shivamagum..

Rastafarian

I drink water. I get sunlight. I am just a herb with complex emotions..

Gloomed dreadlocks. Soot of cannabis. My kind of war-everywhere philosophy. But everything is not fine. I choose to smoke the weed simply because it is black man’s faith. I do respect my body and what it is.

God, the cause of all, is one. I saw my god in red-yellow-green stain. The symbol of martyrdom of past rastafari

Africa… my version of Zion. She is my paradise on the earth. I still remember her in a essay of poignant smile. One day i return to her, holding our emotional warmth that they take away from us.

The corrupt Babylonian system down pressed her. Colonialism separated us. One great love is killed diplomatically. Life being a total fear fest choreographed completely in a downward Oscar slavery.

One day everything will be fine. One day she is going to have so much of self love and i never settle her for anything less than what she deserves. I’m a crying cub. Rastafarian!!

Your wound is probably not your fault, but your healing is your responsibility

– Denice Frohman

I Feel Grey

I constantly aware of an absence. Each and every thing i write is revolve around that absence.

Absence may be an inactive sadness or an indolent wish. Some how it triggers my senses and live again with the bygone. The presence of absence control me as long as it stays as a secret. It’s dark energy galvanize me at times. Thus we co-exist in peace..

I love to be in this alternate reality. No season getting colder here… No sun is ruling here.. I feel grey!! Depression is torn on my table, half-attended.

“No matter where I wander I’m still haunted by your name

The portrait of your beauty stays the same

Standing by the ocean wondering where you’ve gone

If you’ll return again

Where is the ring I gave to Nancy Spain?”

– Christy Moore [Nancy Spain]

My Obnoxious Calmness

Life happen without warning, without rhyme or reason. We all lock on to people. Some… dearest.

In a less beautiful and meaningful vein, she reminds me our love. Hair touching and those compliments. Those days we had was zero gravity.

Sometimes.. you need a cup of solitude just to take a breathe, just to take a nap or to read a good thought. We find same love. Then we use our devotion to fuel the sick mind-games. But still we both, candid.

We are unseen, yet connected by same melting sky. We still share same rain, we have cried over the same book. I simply watch my world destroyed and created and destroyed again!

I want to know when you last cried? and why? I want to know what drives you now? I want know why you chose to kiss me out of seven billion people in the planet?, I never asked. In the end i can only smile at nothing..

In a world of much love-less labour, I find myself as most unlovable!