It's YOU

I maintained my composure,
but you aroused the passsion in me.

I followed my path,
but you made me traverse your path.

I maintained my elegance,
but you made it sound preposterous.

I never encountered a fall,
but your persona made me all the more vulnerable.

I was always confident,
but you made me conscious.

I trusted my inner sense,
but your sixth sense triumphed over my inner sense.

Your sixth sense knows everything,
but you gave way to the real senses.
My eyes said it all,
and the result is inevitable.

It's YOU; you made me say this at last

Cheers!!!

A prostitute's life

There was a time when the world was created with two souls behind the creation. There was a time when curiousity culminated in all the problems. It was the time when Pandora's box was opened. Though a triumph over nature's laws, it presented a world denuded of peace. The problems galore that the box created multiplied and the world sounds a misnomer for a happy abode. In a world created by god, we happen to be a drop in the ocean ever on the look out for peace. Quite fortunate are some who stand to make a living out of what they received, but a few are destined to live a life that they would not have dreamt of.

Not many prefer that way, but for a few it is the spoilsport played by the destiny. Preening herself, Madhubala peeps out of the window looking for her friends to accompany her for her night's work. She starts her journey filling her mind with lascivious thoughts and teaching her eyes the furtive glances. Looking for lechers in the streets is her daily work, but soliciting people for the right bargain is a tough ask, as amorous relations salvage her spoilt stomach. After a hard night's work she awakes in the morning to see her dreams rent asunder in the backdrop of a lustful art. The sun sets and the moon peeps out making the girls solicit openly in the streets.

Everything is destined is a known fact, but what life has in store for them is nobody's concern. A life out of bed, and a life asking to prostitute their talents in the bed, not often do people take it this way as the loss of libido is not a frequently heard phrase. A prostitute longs for a Platonic relation, but she is known for illicit ways. She craves for true love, but succeeds in prostituting her talents in its making. She dreams about love, but lust inextricably linked with all her dreams. She knows it's a misdemeanour, she knows it's a felony. She wants to come out of this, but she has no one to salvage her wrecked existence. She wants to lead a life of a recluse, but she has a brand attached to her and in this lustful society only brand rules and so do men.

World on the move

Primafacie, everything is predestined, but to an extent everything is predictible. Imagination at its best, reverie behind a thought and a spark propelling an action, these seem to be the food for thought for the phantasmagorical world. Each day I wake up to the chirping of birds, indicating a new world in the making. I may not have dreamt of everthing, but the dream is already in practice in some part of the world. I fantasize about illusions, but only to see them changing into reality. I write captions about the illusory world, but the next moment I awaken to see them really existing. I stop writing for a few days, but my thoughts never allow me to do so. I start a new blog on the developments on earth, but people are already planning to develop the moon. I plan to move towards moon, but people have started exploring Mars. I plan to visualize something that had never existed, but people already propounded theories about the never existent till now. I want to create something new, but the new may not be new the next day. I see the phantasmagorical world, but the world sees me as an amateur new to this field still learning to accept the fact that it has a lot more to offer which no one would ever visualise.