The Irony

Upon sensing somebody’s listening, I shut up.
When the coast is clear, I pour my heart out.

-名前がない男の人

Smouldering Visions

I lit the darkness of my soul –

Not with the friendly glow of reality,
But with the consuming fire of what should be…

Writers hold on to tomorrow despite the lack of assurance that they will ever see it

Not everything you write will rock. A lot of them won’t even make sense in fact. It doesn’t matter though. Because the only thing that counts is to embrace the fact that your writing will inevitably suck sometimes and there’s very little you can do except to get on with it and keep on writing.

And because some of a writer’s toil of sweat and blood will suck, he is not immune to heartaches and frustrations. But instead of succumbing to them, he musters his courage and strength to thrive on them and coexist. Sometimes, he gains the upperhand. Sometimes, he makes a cookbook out of hordes upon hordes of heartaches and frustrations and makes them his nourishment.

But a writer’s comfort lies on the thought that he can keep on writing even if what he wrote today sucked. Because tomorrow is a resemblance of hope that what he will write tomorrow will finally make sense.

Tomorrow.

Hope.

Another chance.

That’s the way I approach writing. I just hope I can approach life with the same hope and enthusiasm especially in times when nothing seems to make sense.

Life-giving death

"Like plants, we do not acquire our nourishment solely from the sun and rain, but also in every part of us that dies." - 名前がない男の人

“Let’s fix this”

Consider yourself lucky if you find yourself a leader who will say “let’s fix this” when things go wrong rather than someone who will leave you hanging in the air, waiting for you to spectacularly fail in order to give them legitimate reasons to throw you under the bus.

 

 - 名前がない男の人

Me vs Social Media

I’d be waging war
on my mobile’s social media

For instead of transcribing
my unadulterated thoughts
on the blank page
I instead
browse one post
after another
up until
I wasted an hour
an eternity
meant for a good story
an hour
of my time
my precious time
my life
a part of me
liking
sharing
scrolling
stupidly
mindlessly

There, I finally nailed it
my undying commitment
to limit and refrain
from allowing my mind
to be subdued
by social media.
And to make myself
accountable,
I’ll post this in Facebook,
Mewe,
Gab,
Tumblr…

Old McDonald had Diarrhea

When the kid messes with the lyrics of his nursery rhymes while trying to learn to speak:

“Old McDonald had a fart
Eeyaeeyayoww!
And on his pants he had some sh*t
Eeyaeeyayoww!”