Posted in Originals, Poetry, Reflections

Confusion and overthinking | The mazes of our making

Confusion
Confusion
Confusion
Confusion
Confusion
Confusion
Confusion
Confusion
Everything
Confusion
Has been in smaller versions
Of
Confusion
Con+fus+ion
Con+fuse-e+ion
What is it
Confusion
That i am missing
Confusion
Is it weakness
Confusion
Is it faith
Confusion
Fused are the roads
Confusion
I don’t understand what’s up
Confusion
Lawyer’s office
Confusion
To lobby for a truth
Confusion
To win based on logical arguments
Confusion
To make no sense
Confusion
To follow no logic
Confusion
And yet to establish what is the truth
Confusion
To take a side
Confusion
To be called out
Confusion
To run a lap
Confusion
To get shit done
Confusion
To be right in
Confusion
To be wrong in
Confusion
What does it mean
Confusion
To know yourself
Confusion
To do what you can do
Confusion
To know what you can do
Confusion
To know what you cant
Confusion
How do you know
Confusion
How don’t you know
Confusion
Beauty came out
Confusion
When someone else
Confusion
Pushed you through
Confusion
The squeezings of life
Confusion
The first instinct is to resist
Confusion
To push back
Confusion
What do you do
Confusion
What do you want to do
Confusio…

Sometimes the mind is locked up in loops of thought. So much so that it loses track ofwhat it was trying to think. It falls into loops of confirmation biaseswhile contradicting itself in the same breath and in a dissatisfactory kind of way.

Posted in Extempore, Originals, Poetry, Reflections

On biases in pop culture: Is the human mind incapable of letting go of its biases?

TV series: Castle; Season 5 Episode 9

What the heck. This episode showed how a white man who took the decisions to steal away poor people’s homes and lands, ruining their lives forever, did all this for a money-hungry wife. And that this man ends up dead because his wife cannpt give up her lifestyle and so she kills him. I mean what the heck. Of all the things they could have shown, it all came down to hiw greedy women are the reason men do not become santa claus and give away gifts of life. It is because of the women that these men do what they do.
I mean seriously, this is infuriating.
I mean i get how greed has no gender but this series seems to follow a constant pattern of showcasing the women in its stories, in very poor, hysterical, dumb, stupid and unjustifiably stubborn light.
It is only furthering the bias existing in the society of how greed and everything evil, finds its roots in the women. Does it really?
We have this concept of how jobs and money can get men sex. That’s pure prostitution. Women sell their bodies and have sex, the most impure act humanly possible (according to their religious and moral institutions at least) for money. For comforts. For peace and relaxation.

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Women’s want for peace and relaxation is seen as a luxury for ages now. It is still believed that standing still and lying quiet in one place, is practically inviting danger. That is how the mind is trained in tbe wilderness. To forever be alert.
Stealing a moment’s peace in the woods is indeed a grand luxury. Because you could end up dead anytime soon. People are so afraid of death. Of dying. That they forget to live quite literally.
They reproduce, hope to live vicariously through their children and grandchildren, even after they are dead. Surnames start from one human, first. The founder of that particular culture.
In India, we are obsessed with living forever and extending our lives so much so that we believe i life after death.

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Enters philosophy.
While there is no killing of energy, more and more people continue to be born. The more the life, the more the death. They kill, roast, or fry, and then eat. This simple dichotomy is too difficult for the human mind to handle. And so it gives into singularity.
A single good. A greater good.
And while they are busy trying to maximise life and win against the death, the darkness, they forget how they are creating more life to die. For life is defined by death, by what it is not.
And so the mind hopes to feel at peace after creating as much life as possible. Forgetting that it is looking for peace against a perception of death. Winning against the dark. But it is creating the concept of death as it goes alpmg creating life. Like creating more reasons for its anxiety while seeking peace.
And i think it is because the concept of non-existence is too much for a mind to comprehend.
Accepting death as it learns to accept life, is too much for a mind to do. Why is that?
Mind you, this has nothing to do with being a male, female or somewhere in between. Gender is just an act. The mind is what drives the act. This was just a disclaimer for those willing to overlook this what i have her, as some feminist rant, just because it seems to have started there. While the truth is i like to see that it started from questioning biases.
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My work here is becoming more and more frequent. This is me trying to put an evil eye on this immense productivity. Anyways, you can enjoy this while it lasts, a day, a week, a month or a lifetime.

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Listening to — https://youtu.be/JoO55ElYrJg

Cover art courtesy — the stoned storyteller

Posted in Artists, Extempore, Originals, Poetry, Travel Stories

Zombies in the night

It feels like the bottom has suddenly disappeared. Like solid wood has turned into liquid. So much heat and so much energy has been summoned for god knows what. What is it i feel? Am i threatened? Is this how it feels to be in a fight or flight mode? It’s just a stupid office drama. Everyone here playing office-office without any clue as to what is the big plot. What are they dreaming of. Why did they start out with. We are just in it for the play. No longer care for the director’s chair. Who sits. Who leaves. As long as they is a play with roles for us to slay. As long as there are dialogues and moods and method acting going on really good. We are suddenly not who we were but someone who we want to be. Smog is setting in. Visibility decreasing. Because the liquid is now evaporating into smoke and filling up our eyes with tears. We can no longer see ahead. We walk blind in the future. Reacting when something touches us, threatens us, almost by instinct. We no longer see. Blinded by so much energy, so much light. We walk on. We walk on. Zombies in the night. Too much heat in sight. Dead man walking, right.
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What do we do? What do we do? We are blinding fast into the dark night. We are forgetting fast what got us into this mud fight. We are losing grip over our realities, the past, the present, what the future looks like. In our eyes. In our dreams. Our eyes are closed but we still can’t dream. Our eyes are open but we still can’t see. What do we do? What do we do?
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Now we are afraid. Afraid to open our eyes. So we create more smoke. To keep ourselves blind. For a bit longer. For a path longer. Putting off reality for a bit longer. Holding our eyes shut just a bit longer. Just a bit stronger. Keeping our eyes closed so long that real is now imaginary and imaginary, real.
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Trying sincerely to capture every moment when i feel something. When i am stirred and moved. Into reality. And out of it. Join me on my journey. Evey once in a while. Follow the blog and once a momth maybe a poem i pen sill ring with your insides. Because i primise i am being as honest as i being honest is possible. So that when it does ring you, you wish to create something yourself. And then i will consider my life well lived. (How will i know? Trust me, i will) so keep in touch. Hit the follow button 🙂

Cover art courtesy — Instagram handle @the.whitecube