Tragedy of Wanderer!

Scribbling:

Tragedy of Wanderer:

“The romanticism of masochistic self-destruction could be tempting, but only to them who have not being subjected to the sadistic rituals of being destructed carefully. They must be naïve, for the reality of being destructed by someone is much more than a mere revelation, it is as if you are put on a trial you did not expect and even before you realize you are pronounced guilty, only to be awarded the honor of being at receiving end along with irreparable consequences, bonus? One that turns you into a ghost, presents you with a paradigm of nightmare, while you find yourself dumbstruck trying to regain before it’s too late, knowing you would never; after-all it was you who wanted it, no? Imagine watching yourself being torn away, piece by piece, in cold blood, without showing a least of emotion, while you are unconscious perhaps, or drunk, may be even sedated, does it matter? While you are in an orgasmic adventure being stomped, spit upon, abused and raped, your conscience killed, you turned into a living zombie having no soul. Soul? Would you even remember having any entity of that sort, for being declared morally bankrupt you are supposed to be as hollow as those words spoken for the victims of a disowned genocide who could not find a place in the after-math report being filed by indifferent officials who appeared rather in hurry to finish off before its noon.

Though at the end of both the difference isn’t much perhaps, leaving aside the bits and pieces amid leftover ashes of a burnt identity and a drunk solitude.”

The Will…!

“Left-right

Up or down

You could walk in any direction

Or stay still

Having a right

To live or got for a kill

For what else

Could give you the thrill, but

The ability to will

Only until

You realize

The mirage

of being in a circle

of infinitesimal diameter

centered around nothing

but its own

as if a mighty black-hole

swallowing it all

Or just another recluse

deprived

and forlorn?

while you watched yourself

in horror

of being torn apart

under the weight

of abyss, filled with

what you considered, collected

as if rewards

of being

the master of roster

Alas!

Sooner or later

The force of gravity

Was bound to prove

too strong, to continue

while stumbling

beneath the weight

of all the will

you could not will

and yet…”

Praveen Parasar

03/05/2018

Tragedy of Wanderer!

Scribbling:

Tragedy of Wanderer:

“It is when the immortality of reasoning takes over that you feel a sort of incessant insistence for the mortal faith, for the vulnerability of your physical existence was ever too much to ask to be a companion on a journey which claimed to take you beyond the filthy shades of survival, the rotting ritual of daily chorus whose ever so nauseating smell corrupts your lungs and leaves you hallucinating while you prayed to be rescued, to be taken away, and offered a glimpse of a glittering world of intellect which claimed to offer a sense of salvation, though for some reason it continues to be a private affair for some of intelligent vagabonds trying desperately to portray themselves as savior over and above the shadows of all those struggling to survive, while their own survival remains non-existent beneath those so-called light of reason. Hope is ever so tempting that one sooner or later falls for it only to find himself being a victim of a sort of betrayal and yet faith continues to look after the ceremony of burial while the reason offers a bleak condolence; could one rest in peace? We could only wonder and wander…”

Unseen…!

"Every drop of tear

Which decided

Not to roll down

The face, scared

Ended up

Wearing down the eyes

Which were already fragile

Off the weight

The night carried

And yet, as if

Intimidated

Of being caressed

It surrendered

And sundered

though

It was a mere touch

It was more than

The weight of

All the vulnerable

identities, collected

Over several nights

And days too

Bits and pieces of

Screams

Broken down

While passing by

The frail trail

Of insecurities

Echoes of it

Crouching beneath

The skin

There lied one

Naked,

ashamed of being

Seen

Or just afraid

Of being there

Forever

Unseen….

Alas!"

Praveen Parasar

13/4/2018

Tragedy of wanderer

Scribbling:

Tragedy of wanderer:

“What better way to destroy yourself than to find a sense of pleasure in watching yourself destroy yourself, probably with so much of ‘yourself’ that the destruction is rather a cold follow-up routine than being a surprise or otherwise. The masochistic urge is rather appealing and no wonder if it succeeds often and without being tagged as grey as the sadistic counterpart, perhaps as it is about a mere solitary confinement, but is it? Probably turning away from it all was starting point or maybe it was just when nothing else seemed to make sense, or possibly it was just meant to be destroyed, an overwhelmed sense of self drenched in reason of why and why not, bogging down to weight of what-ifs while it could be nothing more than a mere narcissistic urge to narrate it all in a certain cosmetic language but what does it matter for it never makes any sense once you settle down to take a look of reason and find it all being a heap of mess, confused of its own identity, questioning its own existence. Being vulnerable is never meant to be an option and yet he came to believe he was the one who was the author of the script, or so said the narrative that ended on a rather familiar way. It all follows down the same path, gravity of impulse is too strong to carry the glittering picture of survival beyond the boundary of solitary night, or could it be just the loyalty of being faithful to one’s agony. Berkeley said, ‘it was all just mental and nothing existed physically’, Some moment when one wishes it to be true more than anything else. Alas!”

Decree…!

"What could quench the thirst

Inflicted through the journey

Of seclusion, and mortification

Of being greedy

For a few droplets

Of tear

Mixed with blood

Drawn incoherently, yet

A sedative of rare properties

And grave

Ramifications

That would belie the silence

Left behind

For ages to come

An eerie void

Is bound to appear

At the bottom of

The chaos, and

The screams

(rather a chasm)

Which continues to echo

Through the insubstantial frame

Of utilitarian prison;

Perhaps disguised

As an obligation

Rather than a blunt ignorance,

Constituted solely

For the purpose

Of confining

The cries

Of one

Demanding salvation

Alas!

Sooner or later

The thirst consumes itself

And leaves behind

a trail

of dried blood

and dead teardrops

That leads nowhere, but

To the fear

Dictated upon

the shreds of

very skin

One had attempted

To cut through

And to escape

Perhaps…”

Praveen Parasar

03/04/2018

Incoherently…!

As uncertain, uncertainty could be

Certain of its certainty

as random, randomly

puts forth instances of randomality

as anonymous as it remains

of being diagnosed with

conditions of anonymity

and it between all such juxtaposition, of

to be and not to be

there lies one, surviving barely

holding on to those flashes nightly

and yet the night slips across

and the day marches on

and one still remains

carrying forward the bits and pieces

of self, nothing more than bits and pieces of

you and me, and the dangers of

incompatibility of vulnerability

that lingered within, insistently

unable to explain

and hapless as it would be

destined to lose

and to earn no more than a pity

yet the ferocity, of emotions

and their ability

to grow way beyond

a mere void, or

even an abyss, though momentarily

enough to destroy one

forever,

permanently

leaving behind nothing

but bits and pieces of lingering

darkness,

rather orderly

as if a consolation reward

for one who chose to fail

and fall

 such spectacularly

Alas! Perhaps a mere possibility

Of going beyond

Or growing vagabond,

drowning

incessantly …”

Praveen Parasar

30/03/2018