MAGIC ***

Magic***


Magic***


Your heart pulsates; your heart is not able to keep the pace.
And then he rigs another of his rhythmic strokes.
Is it a sound of guitar or lull mountain echo?

Magic***

Magic ***

I am witnessing one miracle. A band called U2 in front of us.
He took upon the chord, he alters his uncanny pitch, he sang it like there is no tomorrow and he amplifies my soul.

Magic ***

Magic ***



He lowers his mic, He lay upon the stage, he put his hand over his own chest.

Crowd went crazy, with everyone yelling his name .The sound got lowered, the drums started fading. I thought its like the end is coming …….with my heart started aching.

Suddenly lights splashed…and there was his voice, like a roaring lion seducing his lioness. I just look around it’s like an illuminated high. The music is rising and I know this is the only night!

Magic***

Magic***

I can see females running over their side and guys smoldering upon their sound bytes.
My hands are uplifting upon their each chord….How crazy I can become when they play their songs with their heavy notes.

Magic ***
Magic ***





He strokes, he bowed and then he looks straight into my eyes. As if he is saying I hope this song reaches to you as I really want.


Explosion, delirium … Molecular reaction ....hybrid theory… whatever … perhaps it’s a nuclear blast in my heart ... I am on high!!!



Its U2 live in my eyes!!!!

Jack Narcissism!

I love Jack Nicholson, I just want to be like him, I mean the way he walks, the way he talks, even the way he grits his jaws and adjust his sunglasses. I just want to be like him!

I always feel it’s upon us, the ‘Guys’ to make a woman feel real special. In a manner that she relish the fact that she is the only female around. Correction! The only beautiful female, walking around.

I just want to get back to compliment’s the way Mr. Nicholson do, the real compliment where you are actually pouring a soft fragrance upon a women who in a manner is actually unaware of her physicality .

C’mon understand the beauty, the undeniable beauty of women eyes, when she realizes that here is the guy who is totally and enormously in awe of her. And your compliment is actually a cold vibrant air near her soft ear buds. Embrace them with words, the poetically brilliant words, these exuberant words are actually there to tribute them.

So imagine,

Here is Mr. Nicholson, all dressed up, no fake glances, only dark shade glasses and one undeniable smile telling one beautiful lady that

‘You my lady is one beautifully deep breath. A breath which is actually breathtaking and which can make my pale heart goes breathless’

The female try gulping it first.

‘With this scent of your body and the color of your eyes I find myself taken away. Taken away to the mountain from I can see only one cloud. A sculpture of your face’

Here is the time when she started feeling that he is high on flirting and this is the part which makes me a fan of Mr. Nicholson.

Leaning over to her side, the guy smiles and the rest is Jack Narcissism!

‘So Baby do you really like all these words or you prefer me being just a Real Man’

;)

Stuck up!

I never have understood the anatomy of mine, about how I am overcoming and growing this thing called ‘writing ‘in my life.



Off late I realized, that I can not write. I mean writing in cluttering manner, thinking that this is some metaphors I am creating is of no use .Not for me anymore.



Now writing I thought was an easier thing, while constructing a thought on which my writing will stroll was difficult. But again as I grew old, walking with thoughts became easier, while penetrating those pensive opinions on writing wire became thornier.



I think differently, is actually the excuse I started putting on in my writing when I started scuttling away my mind on different lines from the genuine point of views and opinionate words from learned people. Not because I am intellectually brilliant but because I can not help being vividly numb about the thoughtfulness of the most important instances of life.



I don’t want to be stereotype, was again my attempt to sway away my own stereotype. What is stereotype? I mean I am stereotype when I say, my writing provoke abstract thoughts about the simplest situation in life. What are these abstract thoughts? Now here I fall, I fall deeply in my own stereotype, which is my inability to define things in simple beauty and symmetric prose.



Also, I realized the meaning of impassive expressions I had for the situations which can leave rainbow exuberance to other but a reckless prose in my mind. If you can not understood the last sentence you can actually understand the entire context of this self sympathy blog.



‘Writing thoughts can be more vigorous if you discuss your view with the other highly considerate thoughtful minds’



Can you take this theory? I can’t because with each interaction I realized that though I understood their views, their anatomy and their diagnosis of life, I can not mint their thoughts in words. Or you can say I have rebound thoughts which can not shape into words.



So how can an expressionless, thoughtless or wordless writer write a blog which should not be surreal?





Ans: Use you mind to conceive a thought and your heart to prose it.