I like my coffee deep, not dark.

[iamfullofcoffee-blog]

White dress with black stripes or black dress with white stripes?

There she was standing aloof from the crowd of goofs. Fearless, half drunk, long braid and louder than the emcee’s mic. 

From a distance standing hidden from the lime light, he’s peering through her like an arrow smashing through a skull. He couldn’t stop himself from making it obvious that he will not let lose that bow nor the arrows. 

Unaware of the storm uprising at only few steps away from her, she was busy hurling it, unknowingly. 

This was just the beginning of what they call an epic end. 

There she was standing aloof from the crowd of goofs in a white dress with black stripes or a black dress with white stripes...

[iamfullofcoffee-blog]

An above average hero.

I remember the time when the peer pressure overcooked his fragile desires. It made him a sodaholic and all he did was burp, worse than he farted. 

Samosas and chutney lured him in the corners of life’s precinct and the only secrets indigested were about the horrors of being a leftover or a bump. 

It’s not a sad sob, but a story of the failed ego, who appeared for retests and thrived as an above average hero. 

Legends say, the stench of his brylcreem could still be sniffed in the same corners where once the samosas munched this epic fail. 

He is out there wearing a mask over his face, covering his steps without leaving any trails for tales. 

He is there, somewhere, doing something above the average of us all.

[iamfullofcoffee-blog]

The circle shaped box.

In the beginning of this futile revolution of revolving around the Sun, Earth became a mindless muppet of time. Even after decades of decades, the habit of wagging tail in circles hasn’t changed. 

As a by product of the Earth’s incompetency to break the circle, we came into existence. The so called succulent piece of evolution, where we breathe what this planet breathes out, eat what it throws out and drink from where it leaks out. And we are so, so proud of surviving on the leftovers. 

There is no room left for us, we breed like bacteria and plunges into death like it’s the only way to live. The last time I checked, we were still feeding on the future our offsprings. 

Like a blowdryer, our purpose of this life is also to keep our dreams high and dry. Plugged into the matrix of mechanical mimicking, is what completes the circle of this life. 

[iamfullofcoffee-blog]

It doesn’t always have to rhyme.

It’s been a while...

said the man sitting on the aisle.

He was reading a file

while creasing a boil.

It still burns, as he rubs oil.

The flight skipped mile after mile...

and the half eaten sandwich goes in the foil.

It’s a new start for the girl, as she carries a smile.

She looks at the man with a boil...

he looks right back her and presses the boil.

And so the smile fell with plane.

[iamfullofcoffee-blog]

HERE TO MAKE A STATEMENT.

“Look at your shit before you flush it and make sure the next time you shit it’s not the same.”

-Coffeeman

[iamfullofcoffee-blog]

I WON’T RUN OUT OF INK.

For my words don’t stink.

Sting, it will every time you  blink.

I’ll make you shrink,

Don’t forget your girl makes me wink wink.

Go look for democracy, it’s not your drink.

Sit tight and hit the link.

Just exist and think.

[iamfullofcoffee-blog]

HELLO DARKNESS!

How are we doing today? 

Struggling or strangling the life out of light?

Frowning or framing someone for his own death?

Screaming or making someone disappear in silence?

Dancing or drowning the world in desire?

Fucking or punching the last man on the earth?

Escaping or invading a young couples privacy?

Resurrecting or dehumanising the unborn?

Discovering or destroying the only hope?

Anything, my old friend?   

[iamfullofcoffee-blog]

Prey to God.

I’m here to address the pink monkey in room, who has been struggling with finding his bananas and beans to brew. 

The jungle is green and also blue, but alarmingly wild, no mercy, no shrine only struggle, dare you defy. If you can, you must always hunt and leave no trace of white blood.  

To be devoured by the idea of ruling the unruly Sun, is all it takes to be the victim.

[iamfullofcoffee-blog]

I asked for her chewing gum and she said, you must.

It wasn’t love at first sight but a contingency to take place in a coffee shop. And so the opposite of it happened because when life gives you bad breath you can’t really do much. 

[iamfullofcoffee-blog]

Tired of getting tired.

It rings a bell, from a distant land where working diligently doesn’t rhyme with the weekdays. The calendar has no deadlines to meet, a marker has no reason to bleed and I have no purpose to leave, the seat.

Tired of trying to be tired without satisfying the need of being hungry for the crime to become divine. The meaning was not never to be found in the relics of “old man’s guide to light” but in the journey to find the “old man’s guide to light”.

So, here, there, everywhere I am walking without a map and cape.

[iamfullofcoffee-blog]

When Ted Talks.

“Stop talking already, will ya?

You all come here with a past, present and the delusional ones with even future too. A stage is burdened with your heavy feet, a mike is filled with your shallow words, a hand-full of empty claps and that’s not where you put a period

The mad house of lies is then wired online and it continues to multiply with its false preaching. The end doesn’t have to be near because it thrives on mushrooming like hope and leaving us with a reason to reason with truth.

Also don’t forget to Like, Share and Subscribe.”

[iamfullofcoffee-blog]

I am writing to make it right.

The last time I used my pen, to scribble some words of wisdom was few hours back in the light of creativity and ache for fame. But to the scratch, my “cat in the bag” is intrigued enough to know, which force helps me to lift my pen and pushes me over the edge to blot the white souls of trees?

In my alter ego’s response, I believe it is the “ask”, the need of every hour and the desperation to make every word ring right in the temple of sonnets and rhymes which enthrals me to take the jump. 

I am still light years away from claiming to call myself a writer but when I’ll be ready to become the keeper of pen and the knight of the ink, the world of writers will bend the knee.

[iamfullofcoffee-blog]

The necessity of being inhuman.

Not today not tomorrow, the necessity of being inhuman is now. Borrow my time machine and you can travel the distance only to find mortals who survived on their elder’s genes. 

The argument is not about survival of the fittest it is just an extension of a futile exercise of excretion and perspiration. This mortal life has a reason to thrive even when it’s not in the lime light. 

You can’t be a human to write a tale of all time. You can’t breathe like a social animal because you have to, you can’t eat, drink or sleep only to be tagged as an original copy. 

Discard those leaking emotions and scrap the remnant of your splattered brain across the wall. Leave the ordinary for the text book, write your own poetries and theories. You can pick a pen and still make the world, bend the knee.

Question exists, a human like this does not exist in my stories. 

[iamfullofcoffee-blog]

I landed on my feet.

"Hi, I am not from here or anywhere, to be precise. I usually get smuggled with my dreams and pen. Though I have been visiting this wet city only to find it to be the most virgin of them all. And that has left my dreams aroused. I've decided to borrow ink from the blue sea and have made a deal with the clouds to leave no trace behind. So, for now I am somewhere where I want belong. Also, where can I find a good coffee shop?"

[iamfullofcoffee-blog]

You are in control.

You can turn off the lights and still see things. You can give an excuse and still be an excuse. You can have lunch and still think about last nights dinner. You can have a major heart heart attack and still be a major. You can follow me on twitter and still pretend to be a stranger. You can be a pirate and still pay for your ticket. You can have a burrito and still be hungry. You can learn a lesson and still make the same mistake. You can be a superhero and still be a gay. You can be a dog love and still live in China. You can be here at this moment but you can’t hear. You are in control but are you?

[iamfullofcoffee-blog]

Stop at the right spot.

You’ve been touched at the right time, at the right place on the wrong day. It is next to becoming a nightmare but it is also close to a sweet dream like a cool breeze flowing carrying the smell of black sea. 

The blanket is the only wall between you and my dreading escape route. It is easy to breach a fortress with a day dreaming and night slumbering army. They are paid a fortune to stand straight with an arched back only to enjoy sugar dough. And here is my fortress on the verge of getting vandalized by a not so foreign creep. 

The attack was uninvited but was well accepted with a lot of struggle and snuggle. It is not the end of the invasion just the beginning of an addiction, it is going to be epic almost legendary and will leave the most of us asking for more. 

Terror of temptations. 

[iamfullofcoffee-blog]

Hello from a creep.

Excuse me.

Don’t be a weirdo if you get a hello from a creep after all it’s a just a harmless hello, which is not trying to get inside your pants. 

A heart-broken hello who has never been helloed back.

A hefty looking hello from outside but so meek from inside.

A hungover hello just trying find a coffee partner.

A handy hello looking for a quick handshake.

A hungry hello who has been fed only with byes. 

A how-you-doing hello just eyeing to hear all good.

A humble hello from the other side of planet X.

So, let me try again and say hello.

Ok, bye.