Perception

There is this bizarre concept called Extrovert and Introvert.

Extrovert is someone who is considered as a socially confident person. A person who knows how to leave an impression etc. etc.

Introvert isĀ  someone who is shy and cannot gel up in the crowd with ease.

Pish Posh!.

Adjectives are only good when used in a sentence to describe things, not humans.

To be honest, every extrovert is somewhat of an introvert and vice versa.

It is all about the time and place.

Extro-Intro-verts

The crowd is engaged as the desired one speaks,
Everything that is being said is simply magnificent.
Who cares about the content, just see the techniques,
Extroverts, blinding all the critiques.

But wait, who is that standing in the corner?,
And why is he not saying a word?
Maybe he doesn’t understand, poor foreigner.
Introverts, know only the art of murmur.

No doubt extroverts are great,
No doubt introverts often wait,
But that is all, there is no other difference.
Extro-intro-verts have both shaped earth’s fate.

Look beyond the skills of presentation,
Extrovert is more than charms and smile.
Look beyond the silent hesitation,
Introvert is more than a closed file.

 

~Ideas and content matter the most

 

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Words are the best secret keepers as they never spill out any secret.

Well, until you read them. After that they are like those drunk people who ramble on and on about everything they know and have stored inside their heart.

Seriously, Words!!! Learn to be a good friend for once.

Okay, however here I want you to do what you do best…misguide the world.

This is the story of a 6’1″ tall, narcissist who knows only one thing properly… his heart.

Stubborn, egoistic, determined, charming etc. many adjectives have been associated with him but what is he really?

I hope you help me to find out…

the_solo_gang

Oh! dweller, who is looking for self,

Funny how you know everyone but you.

Like all the books that stand in your shelf,

You think you have read everyone you knew.

Oh! dweller, let me know then,

Who am I and what is true?

For all I have heard time and again,

My different versions from many different view.

Let me tell you what is known to a few,

We are what others want us to be.

Oh! dweller, without any further adieu,

Do convey what you actually see.

Temptation leads to an act of action,

Action comes with certain deeds.

Good and bad co-create junction,

Oh fool why don’t you limit your needs?

Enough itself is never enough.

A concept relative to every being.

Our unnecessary necessity synonyms tough,

Fallacy is all that I am seeing.

Age old stories are being treated ill,

All for the comfort and purpose of some.

A game where end is peril,

I found a sage of ageless term.

White clothed with a smiling gaze,

Has no money or possession of his own.

Yet his wealth is beyond our chase,

Answering all in his calm and soft tone.

Simplicity, truth, non-violence and kindness,

Are principles to break the cycle of Karma,

Harbors the flame which ends all blindness,

Ageless Sage’s definition of Dharma




Be it any country, religion, race or identity, core values all remain the same. In the end we are all but a name.

It says, human did not know how to lie. It came to us as well started settling in this world.

What/who taught us this unique ability?

What/whosoever it was, changed the shape of the world we know today.

Twisted

Lie-ability

Act of concealing what we label as truth,

Comes natural to most if gazed up close.

Tranquil tunes wrapped with fallacy,

Are being administered at a regular doze.

Tricks are quaint and treats seem heartening,

Masking the gloomy road ahead.

An act that never ends but keeps circling,

Even after the lie has spread.

Some are necessary, noble, and kind,

While most seem innocent with a deceitful glimmer.

Precarious are the stones on which,

Lie makes promises to a desperate winner.

Necessary evil whose chains have broken,

Commands even the noblest of us.

Since the beginning only truth has spoken,

Impeccable amidst the liar’s fuss.

Follow The Poet and the Pen for more such works. Poem #96


Every city is like a maze,

Plots with various turns and twist,

Towers of age old touching skies,

A glimmering jungle where we exist.

Each one has it’s own character,

It’s own story and speed of life.

Unique language persists in each,

Concrete jungles where we strife.

Seemingly similar yet not the same,

Something makes these cities alive,

I have played my role in many,

Just like every other who reside.

As I stare at these glimmering jungles,

I see a game unfolding by me.

Funny is this show of light,

Different despite being similar, irony.

An art which appeared long ago,

Is perishing with each passing day.

The profound game of words and phrases,

Ironically is lost for words and way.

Literal sense of what literature means,

Is perhaps the one that comes last.

A set of rules which were meant to simplify,

As per whims and wishes are changing fast.

Take it at its true value,

A deal to deceit one called life,

If you must, change your actions for good,

Leaving the literal literature alive.

And the walls of the old house were strong,

Standing and steering for generations now.

Each mark on them had its own story,

Each pillar kept secret the family vow.

But one picture caught my eye,

A portrait of someone long-lost now.

An unforgetful face, even if I try.

Bold, beautiful and righteous frau.

So many emotions did the portrait portray,

A genius for sure, who played with colours.

Some saw her happy while some grey,

“Life”, wrote the painter, “every single day”.

It is only as beautiful as you believe it to be and only as dark as you see.