"And so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees, just as things grow in fast movies, I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer." // F. Scott Fitzgerald // sad that these are the last few days of summer. there's still so much work left, so little time...
But, dear heart!
It's okay to love with all you have,And still end up in pieces,
Broken and shattered,
Piercing through your soul.
It's okay to be wrong,Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious brain,
Cuz no matter,how much and what it takes,
Priorities always, find there way.
I know, I know,
How much it aches to be a forlorn figure, everywhere.
Room,bus stops and all those places,
So full,so full..
But you still stand,lonely there.
And well people do talk about something,
Something called grey.. But well,aren't priorities,js a black and white affair?
Either you love someone or you don't!
Why keep them hanging all along?
You are either there for your friend,
In the darkest hour, in the time of dire need.
Or you js abandon them and flee,
Cuz you have better things, up your sleeve.
The game of priorities,
So fair and square.
And still people pretend,
Like they care.
Well it's a good thing then,
Little children are taught fabbles too.
Because to survive in this world of hypocrisy,
We should be armed and prepared too.
No wonder,actions speaks louder than words.
And when something better comes along,
Who would remember,
The times so blue.
Who would actually fight for people,
Who always stood for them.
Baring the ego,love was all they gave them then.
But then when they need love,they need care,
The world suddenly turns a deaf ear.
Yes everyone has there priorities up their sleeves,
So mind you,
Accept the fact that, you never as important as you thought ,you were.
Cuz dear child,
If you were,
You wouldn't be a forlorn figure.
People would have fought for you,
And bomabared you with why's and how's.
Cuz when you really care.
Love defeats ego,everyway.
And you don't just give up,
No matter what it takes.
Cuz the person walking down that lonely road,
Is your own, your own to save. -Purnima Gupta
They say home is where the heart is,
But I'm not sure yet where my heart is.
All I know is I thought my home was with you,
Until you said you wanted nothing to do with me,
After that sunny day in June.
After that I lost myself all over again,
Because of that I didn't want to do anything.
I thought my life was over,
Until I found a glimpse of hope.
Not in you but in myself.
I knew that I was not in the wrong,
And I finally realized you played me.
You were never meant to be my home,
I was supposed to be my home.
Now I found peace and home within myself.
I had waited for the moment when everything was clear, but as I sat simply waiting and waiting and waiting, I realized - my life wasn't like the movies or a miracle story. I had to get up and do something. we have to stop living behind a nonexistent screen, there's no audience to please and our drama is not one of entertainment. let us keep miracles and movies on the big screen. let us live.
it is the year 1966
we are plunging the war
tips of our sand-strewn
toes with all the hotness and
fine angst in
into and into the sand.
my father warned me
about the airships,
unlikely at a promenade
about how they would
drop love bombs
so you feel that you are
carrying all of the skies
and all of your woes
backpacked to you.
no you aren't,
no you aren't;