Visualize this color. Think of what it makes you feel. What it stands for. What the story hidden in it could be. Then create a short story, drabble, one - line story, poem, anything that takes your fancy.
If your version of religion or political or social ideology or culture is against basic human rights, then why are you supporting them? What is your damn excuse?
We live in a complicated world. No, I'm not talking about the COVID-19. Let's forget about the coronavirus for a second and think about the hardcore reality of our society. We are on the verge of collapse. From the social and economic inequality to climate change that's about to disrupt our world. We live in a world where the entire social hierarchy is rooted in patriarchy, racial and gender discrimination. Yet, the majority of the population chose not to care too much about it. It's not generalizing when I say majority, because when you look at the world political spectrum, you can definitely see a trend towards the conservative political ideologies.
When there is a clear discrimination based on color, race, gender, and sexuality exist in our society, we shouldn't say "I see no color or race or gender or sexuality, I see a human being suffering". No, the problem is far more complicated than that, the real question we all should be asking is, "Why that person?" Of all the other people, why that person is suffering the most?
If we really want to change the world and its obsolete ideologies, then we need to accept the fact that there is something clearly wrong with our society and it runs so deep into our "culture". We can debate and argue about our political, cultural, and religious differences but that's not going to solve our problems. You can support any political/religious ideology that you want but at the same time, you have the responsibility to criticize it when it's against basic human rights.
It's such a sad thing to see when some parts of our society cannot live freely. So, if your ideology is against basic human rights and it's discriminating people, then it's time to change your views. Because if you don't, it'll collapse eventually and you'll go down with it. And I hope one day we can co-exist in a world where different ideologies aren't trying to kill each other.
Had to say this. Okay bye. Hope y'all are doing good.
That day, the adamant me surmised, Mahogany was the getaway, I yearned for, No, it didn't provide ayurvedic cure to my camouflaging dogmas, Neither to my aching voodoo doll, it had already burst off the agony. Didn't lend solutions to Math problems
Yet, an Oracle, that sprinkled life in this dead and delphic conscience, The bed of shed emerald leaves, loaned some sleep to swollen eyes, bereft of sweet lullabies, Dendritic, umber roots, reach out to my soul, Bringin' to surface the stifled identity, Holding it intact, an adhesive to the pieces.
Swingin' on branches, never cracked When I held 'em, Taught me how grief is To be dealt, how leaves fall each Autumn, And emerald blooms again, every spring. How it firms its bough against the zephyr's Punches, bargains with Sun's heat. Few people are supposed to leave and Let gone, like several twigs that fall off it.
Today, there I stood, watched my comrade Bleed, incessant pain, I felt, My cicatrix was fresh again, black-blue, It was cut, to fulfill man's oozing greed, It's fallen petals, reminiscence of our bond, Like Naphthelene balls, spread its aroma and Vaporized away, fell on knees to the man's Avarice, after surmounting the sun and wind. _________________________________________________ Picture from Pinterest @despair@sereiin@seyfert@soulfulstirrings@jeelpatel#ceesreposts @_hessa_@__aurora__@lily_love
Those tangerine skies slowly fade into the darkness. You look forward to the silent goodbyes of the Sun. Maybe a part of you knows what it feels like to spread the warmth of happiness in the darkest of hearts and not expect anything in return.
Few words, this world calls poetry, never seem to heal the sinking feelings these poets gift one another. Sometimes, and mostly at all times, it effortlessly carries a poignant moment or two. The ones that are too small for the world but eternal for them. You are that poetry, which everyone holds onto but never rereads.
The sinking feeling carried by the borrowed light of the moon, is merely a reminder of how quickly we forget the good days while waiting for another one, hoping that it would be better.
Some memories are like the waves of the sea. Trying to kiss your feet and pulling you close. You can spend a lifetime collecting the shells of nostalgia, yet nothing will ever change.
The cold wind that slowly touches your face, slowly lures you back to where you belong. It carries the sweet smell of Fleabanes, reminding you of love.
Few pages of your notebook need to be dedicated to the stories you hold within you. It wouldn't hurt to let go of few feelings, the ones your eyes keep narrating.