Journal of a stoner

My senses tingle, as I get deeper into my trance,
Eyes open wider and I feel cold
The moment I close them, the room seems to spin,
A smile breaks out as I get stoned.

I take a deep breath,
I exhale it slowly,
Seems like forever before I stop,
Time seems to lose,
in it's competition with relevance,
Slowing down, until it all stops.

I don't worry anymore,
I don't think it matters,
Social maturity ceases,
Time slows down,
Focusing so hard,
But reality seems to be out of my grasp.

Thoughts, they levitate,
teasing my existence,
Saying, I think so I must be, is that true,
Never back down,
Rolls the windows up,
and fold your blanket with fruit roll-ups too..

I feel half my face warming up
while the other half, stays cool,
I feel one earlobe and start laughing,
Can't stop even if i want to.

The room gets dark, and then brightly lit again,
I try to speak, my lips are dry,
Unintelligible words,
form coherent sentences, not..

I take another drag, really, how stoned was I?

 

A Con and a Thief

Stagnant fears fill my head,

inadequecy of the self,

questions asked,

the answers elude,

not even at the tip of my tongue..

I am a con,

I am a thief,

of time and will,

of myself and everyone around..

I hope to make right one day,

atleast by the ones I love.

My Experience - Leh

Opaque brown mountains,
Deafening green rivers,
The raging sunlight takes rest,
Nothing but C sharp in my ears.

As the night desends,
and the lights go out,
the dogs with their antlers,
seek solace in the darkness.

A slight breeze,
whistling through the leaves,
disturbs the trees,
as they try to sleep.

But yet the bliss,
is untouched, unhurt,
for the cold wind at night,
beckons the snow at first.

The brown tipped mountains,
softly turn to white,
with only the stars as it's witness,
the cloud covered moon tries to peek.

The night comes to an end,
the horizon lights up,
the river wakes up the town,
as the people fight the light.

With generators abuzz,
and breakfast being made,
the smell of fresh bread and coffee,
overpowers the senses.

A little boy just woken up,
steps out and feels a chill,
looks up expecting brown mountains,
but is thrilled to see them bright.

He runs and yells across the town,
he runs as fast as his little legs can,
the smiles as the towns people talk,
and he runs and jumps..

... to catch the first flake of snow...

Am i sleeping?

I don't know how they do it..
Artists, musicians, writers, the whole lot..

How do they visualize.. or rather how do they translate what they see, hear, feel, imagine into a physical tangible and beautiful work of art?

Its boggling.. i try and try.. but all that i do is step into the universe of the experience and then i can't share it..
Its like going for the most beautiful holiday to an exotic location, but forget your camera, or if you have a camera then your battery is not charged.. and even if all of it is in place, it's raining and you cant take your camera out..

Its frustrating..

even words don't seem to be coming out..
But Im transported more often than before..
Its like my mind wants to get lost..
but doesn't want to share where it's gone..

Dreaming has its perks.. you have an excuse..
but it's almost like all of life is a sequence of dreams..
no memory of the minute that has past..

Well, i suppose that it's because it doesn't know either..
skipping from reality to reality..
trying to make sense of what it's all about..
Where, why, how? crawling through..

Crawling in..
Bathing in doubt,
and no consistency..

how does one learn moderation, if there are only extremes?

And how does one return to our reality, if one doesn't even know awake from sleeping?

Or does one just enjoy the experience and hope never to truly awake?

From the ashes..

One doesn't think, but feels,

One doesn't know, but hopes,

One doesn't stop and does,

One knows the love is near.

One doesn't care and continues,

to a goal that is never revisited,

One doesn't consider consequences,

What is experienced is passion.

When disappointment is a fear,

When the feeling is getting lost,

In a crowd of so many, too many to count,

One knows they are burning to the ground.

From a lifetime of hope,

From the throes of passion,

rising from the ashes of oneself,

A true writer is finally born..

Hope..

There comes a time in everyone's life,

When confusion and deceit of the mind,

Rules over the judgement of the right..

But the time passes and the sun emerges,

from the west this time,

Against the thread of nature..

When this dawn comes,

And the horizon is no longer dark..

The hope that you had lost in warmth,

Comes gushing right back..

The sun envelopes everyone,

All colour, race, gender no bar..

Life regains it's old meaning,

That time is not far..

for once hope is back,

and reason and clarity restored,

everything has a new meaning,

even if it's the old one you had kept in store..

Wanderings of a Thoughtless Mind: Chapter 21

I don't understand it.

I honestly don't understand how people think.

Unilateral, not capable of non linear thought..

Closed and unfathoming of anything beyond what they know or can think.

How can people think unidimensionally, when the very basis on which they survive is multi-dimensional.

People are multi faceted.. and hence thought and understanding should be too.

People are many things at one time.. hence thought would be too..

Focussing is a task which one does after they have explored till the end of the world and beyond and upon reflection of this vast array of knowledge and experience can one focus.

How do people pass judgement or think they have the right to pass it too.

If one THINKS.. how can there be confusion.

How does one tolerate close mindedness.

How does one cope with it.

Maybe i just don't understand it.

Maybe im frustrated by people who claim to think.

How.

How.

How.

And here i write to feel better.. but im not feeling better, because i know that i have to dive back into the water-tight thoughts which people enforce everyday, every hour and every minute.

I want to just meet someone who doesn't pretend and just is.

Maybe im just reacting out of intellectual arrogance. Seated on my pedestal and looking upon the world, frustrated, lack-lustre and disillusioned.

Do i submit and go with it.. or remain and refrain and be frustrated.

Maybe i'm not getting my answer because the question is not clear.

Or maybe just tired of the gross misappropriations of this pretend thought.

Or maybe im just hungry.. and am surrounded by malnutritioned thought, immature patterns and indistinctive voices.

Maybe..