Fun things happen when you decide it’s time to declutter your room & your life. I stumbled upon a lot of interesting stuff & I have a confession to make. I’m a sentimental hoarder, and it is bloody hard to part with some stuff man! Some of this stuff truly is the equivalent of a time capsule. I kid you not, I can see myself transported back in time to that moment or instance I sat down and wrote whatever it is that I wrote. I wouldn’t call it regrets, but I do wish I’d figured some people & things out sooner. Anyhow, through the course of going through stuff this poem was inspired. I hope you all enjoy it, and like always, feel free to share your thots in the comments section down below!
Through Archenemies, Half-truths and whole lies, I survived. Through fearful phases, And memory hazes, I’m alive and all revived. Through gossip columns, Strewn across many page corners, And blank spaces, On word crammed pages, Back in time, To safer and happier places. A smile restored, Wistful and wise, All to aware, Of the battles and journeys, Waiting up ahead To remedy and redefine, The purpose of this life.
Halfway through May & sunlight & warm temps seem to be sticking around a little longer than the last few months. With Spring finally making it’s presence known, I hope it’s been just as inspiring & refreshing for all of you as it has been for me! Thanks for sticking around & reading!
Measured & Weighed
I can’t breathe; Every breath weighed and measured. Sleep, no longer a sanctuary, But a canvas of dreams, Painted in hues of fear, and shades of anxiety.
Title: The Subtle Art Of Not Giving A F*ck
Author: Mark Manson
Rating:4/5 F*cks given
Well this is the 1st book I’ve read this year, and there’s no better way to kickstart one’s reading list than with a self help book. After all, we do strive to be better versions of ourselves on a daily basis, don’t we? So, the first time I saw this book, the biggest thing that got my attention was the title & I was curious about 2 things.
1.What it was about? And,
2. Were people reading it?
So I checked to see if the book was available at the local library & guess what? I was #82 when I put a hold on this book. 3 months later, after I’d forgotten I was on the waiting list, I got a notification letting me know the book was ready for pick-up at the library. All that previously forgotten curiosity came rushing back to me when I picked up the book. Anyway, now that I’m done with the book, I thought I’d share a few of my thots.
Overall, this book was a fun read. I found it to be very practical & logical for most part. Sure there were certain parts of the book & examples used that had me quirking my brow, but I just attributed it to the author being a man-child about certain aspects of life. Here’s the best way I can explain it, sometimes writing about certain subjects or issues takes a certain level of maturity & sensitivity. And in order to be able to do so it takes time & a little more experience. But to the author’s credit, he eventually gets to the point (with regards to those particular sections) despite floundering. But for most part, the brow quirking parts either led to an eye-roll or a chuckle.
Something I absolutely LOVED about this book was how it didn’t keep forcing the ‘Power of Positive thinking’ on to the reader in every chapter or page. If anything, the concept is acknowledged & then left alone. There is a greater emphasis on the ‘Power of Negativity.’ What do I mean by that? Well there’s a great emphasis on how it isn’t just the positive things in life that we should look to for inspiration. We should examine, evaluate and embrace our failures, as well as our negative experiences, because they too create, build & remodel us. I loved the emphasis on embracing your failures & not to disregard them, or weigh yourself down because of them. They aren’t metrics that define or describe you as a person.
So here’s the bottom line, if you asked me, ‘Hey do you recommend reading this book?’ My answer to that question is ‘I HIGHLY recommend doing so.’ Like I said before it’s practical & logical, and most importantly it’s light hearted & entertaining, so really, what do you stand to lose? Worst case scenario, if you don’t like this book at all, you can just embrace the spirit of the book & exclaim ‘What the F*ck was that?!’
Breathe easy, stay still. Their words, their actions, Cuts, burns and stings, Absorb it all, breathe it all in. But most of all, Stay firm, stay strong, stay still. For, this too shall pass, And all that will last, Is you, and your strong and firm will.
Another day, another poem. Thank you dear muse for coming around & inspiring a few words outta me, it’s been a while, but it’s good to have you back! To everybody else, happy reading!
In the blink of an eye, Life will pass you by. In the blink of an eye, You better be ready to say goodbye. In the blink of an eye, Wars are won, Empires crumble, New life stumbles, wobbles, And makes itself valid and present. In the blink of an eye, Hearts beat, hearts break, Hesitation creeps in, And hasty decisions are made. In the blink of an eye, You’re on top of the world, In the blink of an eye, Gravity is your best friend, While your free falling nightmare never seems to end. In the blink of an eye, Poetry is written, In the blink of an eye, Inspiration stems and grows deep within. In the blink of an eye, You’re the nobody, Who unknowingly stumbles into the limelight, To become a household name. In the blink of an eye, You’re the centre of attention, Who fades into the background, And falls from grace. A distant memory, Faded to gray. In the blink of an eye, You may wonder how and why, It all came together, And wonder and ponder, At how it all fell apart. In the blink of an eye, Who you were a moment ago, Is no longer who you are anymore. So stop to smell the roses, Celebrate your victories, Embrace your failures, Feel your tears, Salty and bittersweet. For in the blink of an eye, When all is said and done, Be free, be liberated, From bitterness, from animosity, From the chains and weight of regret.
Maybe one day, Some day, You’ll burn the same way I did, To learn the lessons I learned. Maybe one day, You’ll feel, The cost of actions, The weight of words. Oh who am I kidding, You’ll never learn, You’ll never feel that fire, That raged and burned, Smoldered, smothered and snuffed out, Parts and pieces of me, Unto the point of no return. You’ll never see the scars, Thickened and branded, Upon this tainted soul and heart. Oh indeed, Who am I kidding? For you’d have to be human, To learn, to feel, To rise above it all, To heal, As opposed to the sorry excuse, Of Carbon, Hydrogen and Oxygen, You’ve come to be.
I thought if I spoke the devil’s name, And cut my losses, I could set myself free. Only, The devil I thought I freed myself from, Is ever omnipresent, Smirking, leering at me, Whilst celebrating life and free will, While, I keep running, Sprinting from dreams, Ever haunting, And a broken reality, That never fails to remind me, Of my shortcomings, my weaknesses, Of all that’s broken within, Eternally hunting those chinks in my armour, To forever incapacitate, The fighter, the warrior, That breathes within, The dreamer, the optimist, That never ceases to find the light within. One day the devil will get his due, And while he pays his dues, I finally get to live, A life of exuberance, innocence and freedom, Once stolen from me.
Train tracks, Paper stacks, Life keeps piling up. Overworked, Underappreciated, Nothing seems enough. Words… They build you up, And raze you to the ground. Never enough kind words, To make a day, to help find a way. Not enough silence, To hear yourself scream and shout, At the injustice of it all. The voices and noises, Of all those around, Drowning out, The most important voice and sound of them all. The one that lies within. In all this confusion, In this ever growing haze, In this deafening din, Filled with chants in the guise of advice, Telling you how to live your life, You’ve lost all evidence, Every single trace, And have become yet another countless face, That’s lost the way. Forgotten the promises, You made to yourself along the way, Of never compromising, Never relinquishing control. All you remember, Are the harsh words, the scoffing, All the days and ways Your dreams were scoffed at, And mercilessly squashed, Your morale crushed beyond recognition, You relented…you don’t know how or when, But, you let them naysayers win. And now every day is just another mundane one, A scheduled day of activity and events, A routine, a cycle, With no room for spontaneity, No spark of ingenuity or creativity fueled within. All is not lost though, You still feel it within, You hear it calling, deep within. Faint as it might be, it’s no hallucination. Don’t lose your grip, To your individuality. In this world of bots and followers, Don’t forget you can break free. Let the haters and beraters unleash, The bitterness that lies within. You were built to withstand them all, You were made to be better. Hold on to that voice deep within, That you hear ever so faintly, Ever so often, Because you have a mark to make, A few lives to change, And a legacy to leave behind, For some to envy And for others to follow.
Journeys begin with the smallest of steps, Infinite, countless tiny steps. Lives are spent chasing down dreams. Most settle with the barest of dreams, On their wishlist. They believe they’ve reached their destinations. Shortchanged? Premature? Tunnel vision? Lost? Guess we’ll never know. Just because you reach a destination, Doesn’t mean the journey is complete. Then there are the wanderers, Blending with time and space, Uprooted, displaced, Thrown off the path, They set out to carve and mark their place, Only left turning in circles, Eyes wide open taking in the sights, No longer certain if they’ve fallen or risen, Questioning their purpose, their very existence. Feeling like the Universe’s exclusive jester, Entertaining the whims and fancies, Of a world blinded and deafened, By the misery that’s torn it asunder. Where hope is a rare sight, but a cherished one. And so the wanderer wanders, Where all the sights and sounds, That once was home, Is nothing but a fading mirage, Slowly and steadily pulling the welcome mat, Out from under the wanderer’s feet. How do you find your way? When the only way you’ve travelled, turns foreign? Wanderers make the best storytellers. It’s not their wisdom, But the strife they hide behind twinkling smiles, And in long strides, and supposed blasé attitudes, That makes the tales of their journeys, Timeless and worth the while. They belong nowhere and to none, Yet the world belongs to them.