If Vision Is The Only Validation, Then Most Of My Life Isn't Real…

If Vision Is The Only Validation, Then Most Of My Life Isn't Real…

By- Adrija Gupta

I’m going crazy. My head aches, my legs are injured, I feel gross and I’m confused. I don’t know what to do at all. My mind is playing games with me, dirty games, once again…now what does that make me? Where do I stand then? Why do I have such a swinging mind? Why can’t I like one substance forever? The only thing that has been constant with me is Music, nothing else has been…I’m so confused. I don’t know what to do. Maybe I should believe my mind when it says that I’m still very small to think too much and give myself and mu mind a freaking break. But I’m not able to do that either. I’m screwed, in short. Confused state of mind is what I have, and my brain is in agony, and it’s so much that physically I feel that I’m drowning. I’m trying to blame myself, but somewhere in a dark corner, a feeling is not letting me do that too, telling me that it’s not my fault that I’m designed this way.

All I need right now is a heavy dose of psychedelic music, hat will help for sure. I need to take a break from myself. I’m thinking too much and that is the problem. But there is no one physically around me to stop me from doing that. It’s like there’s a whirlwind inside my brain and it hurts. I can literally feel it when I close and shrink my eyes. I hope that when I open my eyes it’ll all go away like a nightmare, but it doesn’t. I’m confused with my own self now. I don’t know what my own feelings mean anymore, I need a break…aaarrrggghhh!

Wish I could shout out, scream to the core, maybe then I’ll feel good, better…

If vision is the only validation, then most of my life isn’t real…

BLOOD LUST…Vampire’s point of view…

BLOOD LUST…Vampire’s point of view…

By- Adrija Gupta

You’re alluring me towards

The crimson glow of your eyes.

Seems like you’re the only one emitting

In this dim lit room.

I might just come so close to you

That you might feel shy.

But you still don’t know that

I might take you to your doom.

Oh, you’ve been my victim from

The first light that I saw you.

Your aroma, so luscious that

 My head feels light.

Everything’s going the way I want

It to go like, you’re trapped.

You’re still smiling, I might

As well tell you, next moment’s not bright.

You’re walking slowly with

That swift swing of yours.

Cutting the swarm so graciously,

Looking straight into my eyes.

You move right into the tavern for

Some more red wine to pour.

You might think that I might

Take you to heaven, dear, I lied.

You seem not to have taken your

Eyes off me; neither have I.

The closer you get, clearer

Becomes the lust in your eyes.

Oh, I can see your cheeks turn red,

As you stand right in front of me.

Lust has overtaken me too,

But for your blood not body, I wouldn’t lie.

If only I was human, I would

Surely fall for you dear.

But right now I don’t have

That desire nor that feeling.

If only you could open your eyes

And see the real me, things would be clear.

It’s funny how I don’t want

To see you naked, but bleeding.

By the end of this night

You will be mine.

Lust is in the air, only it’s

A bit complex for me.

You can still save yourself if you want to,

But your eyes are still closed.

I’m craving for your blood not

Body, it’s blood lust you see…

The Shell

The Shell

By- Adrija Gupta

There are clouds in your eyes,

And there’s the bright sun you can’t see.

There is a grave volume right in front of you,

But there are words inside that you can’t read.

You only hear what all the birds tweet,

But the emigrated robin you don’t believe.

You just see it’s red breast and brown wings,

Very few of you know that it also sings.

You see a little girl weep by the street,

You see blood streaming from her knees, you console.

Your job is well done here, you are satisfied deep,

But you’ll never know that it’s the cry of acceptance from her eyes she bleeds.

Black always isn’t evil just as white always isn’t the holy light,

Thump goes your heart and so does everybody’s hearts beat.

Sharp-cold ice can cut through your flesh and make you bleed,

But if you see, it too can melt with a bit of compassionate heat.

It’s funny you understand the worth when things are gone,

You are not ready to accept things for what they are.

You always yearn for changes and see the wrongs,

But when it’s gone, its return is all that you long.

Character is something you can point out easily,

Seeing that little girl sob and blue makes you happy.

All the tears she sheds in the dark night,

But the fake smile on her face in the day light is all you see.

To tell the truth,

It’s the shell you see,

Not exactly me…

Confused State Of Mind- Weird Me

Confused State Of Mind- Weird Me

By- Adrija Gupta

My head couldn’t be heftier,

But what can I say? It’s the usual me.

Well, normally, obscurely,

I am the weird one you see.

I can sense the change coming,

It’s going to be gargantuan I know.

Everything seems vague,

Feels like I am standing still from a decade or so.

Words aren’t pouring out so easily this time,

What should I do to get what I need?

Shedding saline won’t help much,

I’m walking even though I don’t know where this path leads.

Here’s the funny part, I don’t know what I need,

I want to cry but I don’t have a particular reason for it.

I didn’t know time is slower than tortoise!

I know I’m going to remember every bit.

Wish I could jump off a cliff and feel the thrill,

Sleeping at queer time would be good too.

Stuffing me with ice-cream doesn’t help either.

Everything’s so bizarre; I don’t know what to do!

If I scream I’ll get big ‘Shut Up’s!

But do I really care? No I don’t.

Many want me to change and be the way they are,

But will I ever? No I won’t.

No particular reason, don’t know what I am frustrated about,

I want to shake and break a lot of heads.

I am lost, I am clueless,

There are many I want dead.

I see dreams that I can make no sense of,

I wonder at times if what I see is real.

At times I start thinking of old times,

Times when I couldn’t afford one time meal.

Am I happy now? Yes I am,

Then why am I breaking my head over nothing?!

You call me crazy, mad, I don’t mind,

If I say I’m not human, you’ll probably say I’m bluffing.

I’m not afraid of the change that’s coming at all,

I have done this more than a dozen times before.

I’m really confused; I don’t know what to feel,

And this feeling less feeling is eating me to the core.

Are the roses really red? Am I really me?

All that we see, is all of it real? Even what we see?

All stupid questions coming in my mind,

Told you I’m screwed, are you laughing as you read?

The situation is rough with roving like this,

I am sick of it now and want to stop.

I don’t really know what fate has in for me,

It all makes me stronger as long as it doesn’t kill me.

As time will fly, I’ll sweat, I’ll bleed,

I am not regretful of any of my deeds.

I look in the mirror and this is what I see,

I see me, and I promise I’ll remain the same weird me.

The Dark Encounter

The Dark Encounter

By- Adrija Gupta

The sogginess, and the mossy smell,

My feet feel wet and go deep down the earth.

The chill in my bones and my thumping heart,

I quite like this place, this I can tell.

Heavenly good or ruthlessly bad,

Can’t choose one for this place.

I am a bit shaky; it seems like a game,

A maze of mind and I don’t feel clad.

It’s very intimidating yet dark,

I can see the sun streaming down.

Rays making its way through the trees brown,

If it’s a dream, it’s leaving its mark.

The scars I’m getting from the sharp shrubs around,

It’s kind of nice to feel the stinging pain.

The taste of my blood and the smell of it,

All of it makes me happy dizzy, I might just fall on the ground.

I am starting to feel the auras around,

Even the footsteps of the witty squirrels seem too loud.

Though the sun’s streaming down, there’s more of clouds,

I can hear faint bass far away, I like the sound.

I keep striding but the woodland doesn’t seem to end,

It’s twilight now, and oh! How breathtaking it is.

The verve is too much for me to take, how am I supposed to react to this?

The pain in my heart, seems like it’s healing, but is it suppose to mend?

I take a deep breathe and smell the damp air,

Feel smaller than a dot in comparison to the universe.

Though this place is sullen, it isn’t a curse,

The positive darkness I feel, it’s something I can’t share.

There is something alien inside me, can’t sat what it is.

It’s kind of painful, but in a good way.

And this twinge is so desirable; I want it more as it may,

I am out of my mind and am in a state of bliss.

This feeling is so inky, very deep, very rare,

Only a handful gets this, God’s children you may say.

The ground feels wet on my back as I lay,

I might warn you, yet if you want to come, do dare.

If it’s dream, don’t wake me, it feels so right,

Though there’s not a single human soul around me, I am not alone.

It’s a dark craving and I am prone,

Feels like I have finally found the mighty light bright.

TWINSHIP OF LOVE…The Panorama of Today

TWINSHIP OF LOVE…The Panorama of Today

By- Adrija Gupta

A very enthralling juncture of entry into this very special world dwelled by today’s so called lovers is the bewildering fact that they usually don’t say “I’ll always love you” but easily say “I love you” in what were once called love affairs. Another thing is that when couples break up, they have it the clean and easy way, no damage, no fault, at which they are adept. This is supposed to be rectitude, respect for the so called partners’ freedom. But remember, this is not how it has to be every time!

Conceivably many people don’t say “I love you” because they are honest. Maybe they don’t experience love; they confuse it with sex, with their minds too obsessed with their own fates to be victimized by love’s insane self forgetting and selflessness, the last of the authentic fanaticisms.

People today are afraid of making commitments, but the fact is that, LOVE IS COMMITMENT and so much more. Commitment is a word we usually use in our intellectual modernity to signify the absence of any real motives in the soul for moral dedication and unconditional things. Commitment is motiveless, unasked for, because the real passions are all low and covetous. A person may be sexually attracted towards the other, but that does not mean that it’s going to generate sufficient impulse for real and long lasting concern for that person.

Too much gravity on authentic things has made it impossible to trust one’s hunch, and too much seriousness about sex has made it impossible to take sex seriously.

When marriage takes place, it does not seem to come from a decision and a conscious will to take responsibilities.

Usually the scene is this way. The couple lives together for a long time, and by an almost invisible process, they find themselves married, as if they have just entered their nightmares. But then again, it does not have to be this way.

People tell such rational things about possessiveness and jealousy and so much about their dreams about the future. But when it comes to dreams about the future with a partner, they have none. They all look so sensible and seem to live in harmony with a liberal society, I feel that this planet’s full of robots without any tint of emotions. This conviction, only works for people who have had no experience of the true feelings, have never loved, have abstracted from the weave of life. There’s a huge lack of passion, hope, sense of the twin ship of love and death. Many couples who have lived together throughout their college years, leave each other with a handshake and move out into life like it was some kind of a deal. What happened to the phrase “Kill for Love”?!

Women love freedom and their capacity to chart an independent course for themselves, But they are mostly dubious that they are being used. Distrust gradually spreads through the apparently easy commerce between the sexes. There is an awful lot of bearing up, surely disagreeable, though nothing earthshaking.

They say they are in a “Relationship”. A relationship as a deal without love is what they have. Love suggests something wonderful, exciting, positive and firmly seated in the passions. They relationship that they have is gray, without a definite shape or form, without a given content, and tentative. You work in that sort of relationship, whereas love takes care of itself.

Most people wan to be wholes, but they also long to be parts. This is the reason why conversations about relationships turn out to be abstract, useless, with its whole content stored in a jar labelled “Commitment”. But again, it doesn’t have to be this way. When it comes to pure love, a person accepts the other for what they are. Many people give absentmindedness as the reason for their breakups. Here’s the twist, if it’s really love, the person will take care of the partner even more because he’ll know that his partner is absentminded, he won’t run away, and the reason behind this would be true, pure, unconditional love, because no matter what, he knows that he loves his partner anyway.

Talking of possessiveness, it is to be rooted out. It is this that becomes the root of many fights.

The phrase “He won’t respect you or marry you if you give him what he wants too easily”, turns out to be the truest and the most probing analysis of the current world. Yet, everything still remains so shallow, with the meaning of real love, lost.

People can say they don’t care, but everyone and they best of all, knows that they are being only half truthful with themselves.

In the end the fact remains a fact “True Love Conquers All”…

      

The Metaphysical Postulate

The Metaphysical Postulate

By- Adrija Gupta

Has anyone ever considered the abstract question, “Why do most forms of art moves us so strangely, be it music, dance, art, fashion, and etcetera?”

It is very much possible but not certain that a piece of art moves us intensely because it expresses the sentiments of the artist. Conceivably the tune of a song tells us the mood of the composer, or the elements in an abstract piece of work of a painter shows his state of mind. And if this is the case then material beauty such as the beauty of a rose, does not move most of us the way a piece of art does. Though it is beautiful, but it is not eloquent. It does move us, but not aesthetically. The word, “Aesthetics” derives from a Greek word for perception, and is typically used to refer to what is valuable about experiences as perceptual experiences. It is most commonly used to refer to what is visually and auditory pleasing.

The difference between the “expressive art” and “material beauty” is that expressive art imparts the emotions felt by the artist and that material beauty implies nothing.

So from where and how does an artist feel the emotions that he expresses? Sometimes material beauty plays its part here. The observation of natural beauty is the immediate cause of artists’ sentiments most of the time. Then are we suppose to assume that an artist feels or sometimes feel for material beauty what we fell for a work of art? Is it possible that at times for an artist, material beauty is somehow expressive that is capable of evoking aesthetic emotion? Does the artist see a whole new thing behind it as we feel something behind the forms of a work of art? Should we assume that whatever emotion that an artist feels is an aesthetic emotion felt for something significant which usually escapes our naked eyes?

We usually believe the artist when they tell us that they do not create works of art to gain attention, but only because they materialize a particular kind of feeling. And what is this feeling particularly; they find it hard to explain, because every experience differs from person to person.

From time to time, when an artist, let’s say a painter, looks at things, he infers them as pure forms in certain relations to each other, and feels sentiments for them as such. Now these are his moments of inspiration, which is followed by his want to express what he felt. The sentiments that the artist feels in the moment of inspiration is not for the object seen as means, like if an artist views a wooden chair, he isn’t seeing it as an furniture to sit on, but he sees it as pure form, that is, as ends in themselves, like he views its angles, curves, sees it in lines and colors.

To see objects as pure forms is to see them as ends in themselves.

Everybody I suppose often gets a vision of material objects as pure forms. It is even possible and probable that we see them with the eye of an artist. Most of us, once in our lives have had a sudden vision of a landscape as pure form. For once, instead of seeing it as fields and sky and trees, we have felt it as lines and colors. And in that very moment, had we not won a tremor indistinguishable from what we feel for art? And if this is the case, then it is clear that the tremor we felt for material beauty is a thrill that only a piece of art can give, just by seeing it in lines and colors. We can say that having see that in pure form, having freed it from all casual interests, from all that could have been acquired of its commercial value, the artist in the end sees it in pure form instead of means.

We are profoundly moved by certain art works because the artist can express his feelings through lines and colors, music and etcetera as an emotion felt for reality which reveals itself through the mediums of art.

The sentiments that an artist feels in his moment of inspiration, that everyone else feel rarely when we view objects artistically, and that many of us feel when we admire works of art, are of the same kind. All would be sentiments felt for reality, revealing itself through pure form via medium of art.