Invent yourself and then reinvent yourself,
don’t swim in the same slough.
invent yourself and then reinvent yourself
stay out of the clutches of mediocrity.
Invent yourself and then reinvent yourself,
change your tone and shape so often that they can
Reinvigorate yourself and
accept what is
but only on the terms that you have invented
And reinvent your life because you must;
it is your life and
and the present
belong only to
~ by Charles Bukowski
“If your heart is a volcano, how shall you expect flowers to bloom?”
Loosen up. Even if you cannot get out of the insane asylum. Tell them I am insane. Allow yourself to be mad. Mad enough to live, mad enough to die. Mad to laugh, dance and cry.
Allow them to hurt you, demean you. Allow yourself to lose all your respectability. Go beyond all the definitions created by psychologists amassed on your heart and look at the life as it is. Once again.
Be mad enough to refuse everything that insults your soul. Mad enough to forgive everyone. Mad enough to be who you are no matter what!
Everyone needs a healthy does of madness to make life worthwhile. Madness is freeing. It’s better than becoming like all those dormant volcanoes walking on the streets, carrying overwhelming amount of supressed pain, misery, fears piled up on their souls wanting to erupt anytime.
Your soul cannot be demeaned. Everyone is constantly looking for an outlet. They will either respect your revered madness or envy it. Because “normal” is to be profoundly inwardly sick. It’s better to become a child than a hunter.
In an upside down world, true sanity appears as dangerous and strange.
” When we remember we all are mad, mysteries dissapear and life stands explained.”
Do I belong to those who fall in love with my smile or even scars?
Perhaps I was awaiting those who don’t. Who never do.
To whom do I belong?
Life heals itself in the bestest possible ways
If we just have a little faith and remain true to ourselves.
Possibly I adore those who fall in love with my happiness
Leaving behind their insecurities.
But I look for those who don’t. Who never do.
Life’s funny in countless ways.
Ones who are far from being strangers
Ones who think somehow you belong to them
Who tear you apart and fail to acknowledge the pain they inflict upon you
Who gift you newer lacerations and leave you disoriented
When they only want to help you.
Sometimes life’s far from making a sense.
A part of me will always belong to those who stood up for me, my protection
Whom I have alienated. Who hugged the scars I rewarded them with
And still hold me dear.
But I belong to myself
And what is life without a handful of wounds, a little pain, a speck of joy and your shared sky?
A feathery brush of Dandelions against your skin
or a hushed pulsation shunning in a quiet corner
sometimes cloaking a secluded reply
a shy smile in a genial demeanour
You can never fathom
the truth they undeniably live.
And if you catch a glimpse of the fulgor
oozing out of the corner of their pure misty eyes
you would witness how tiny droplets of moments
Ripen into the rarest of invaluable
like morning dewdrops
trickling down the blade of grass.
Image Credit: Google
When enforced on someone,
Imaginary idealism loses its meaning
That awaits voyagers to take it.
Voicing opinion on ways others hit it is often rude,
When you’re oblivious to the journeys of weak seedlings
And it becomes bestial when you know their struggles and scars.
Life begins to lose its meaning when we don’t stand up
Against the crime done to an innocent soul.
We allow a part of our soul to die each time
When we choose to follow the same rotten practices
That kept it veiled in secrecy;
Giving it the sky to proliferate.
Keeping the life light and fun is life-saving,
Not just to some
Rather becomes a must to each, at one point in life.
Politics submerged in fake imaginary fights gets distorted
That catches some meaning only when the ground is laid
To nourish the innocence, beauty and divine creative forces
And let it burst forth, soar newer heights.
Let the soundness of the system protect the rights and choices of each.
Rise, bring out the rebel in you that protects humanity;
Directing it, letting it make and break us
Letting it discipline us,
And the touch of emerging grace kindle our souls.
Let us see how life quietly creates itself.
Let it thrive.
Let life lead.
Running my fingers along the shelf, while doodling through the dust, I quiver slightly as asudden I am awakened from torpor.
It throbs somewhere in the middle as I feel it cracking. I take my faith pulverizing gradually. Puzzled for a while, I begin drowning.
The awful stink of rot and blood suffocates. I surrender to the pain enduringly sinking to my innermost nub, forsaking all the torn up exterior.
This place is alleviating and comforting. The soft core hardens while I find my nerve again. It flashes onto the dark. Relieved, pacific I apprehend.. it’s all justified.
My faith is here intact. Preparing me. Lightly holding my hands. Leading me to the path which only I have the rightful claim. The path which is only mine. Making me what I am meant to be.
The justice has been delivered. Not visible yet. My faith has found me.