तेरे शहर का मौसम
बड़ा सुहाना लागे
मैं कुछ बरसात चुरा लूँ
अगर बुरा ना लागे

izzy's playlists!

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Jules of Nature

@theartofmadeline

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Xuebing Du
Sweet Seals For You, Always
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JVL
Game of Thrones Daily

roma★
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda

Kaledo Art
cherry valley forever
Show & Tell
YOU ARE THE REASON
todays bird
occasionally subtle
sheepfilms

seen from United States
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seen from Bangladesh
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seen from South Africa

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
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seen from United States
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seen from Malaysia
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seen from Bolivia
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seen from Singapore
@schoolkillsart
तेरे शहर का मौसम
बड़ा सुहाना लागे
मैं कुछ बरसात चुरा लूँ
अगर बुरा ना लागे
My love for life
is little red rose
blooming into dystopia
watered poison ivy
my love for laugh
roots deep in me
dead in the eyes
silent by the roaring sea
but my love for love
my love
you know
you don't
my love for love
is van Gogh to his ear
cut off from him
but still worthy to be a gift....
Pour cubes of ice in my glass
it's not cold enough
for one to savour the spirit
the one that hits the spot
get me something dry
he's wounded and might die
'don't fall asleep, fight it'
may this cold be gone
bring me my coat
and light up a fire
let me stop this tension
it's time for war
let the men know
that we want them
their motherland calls
let belongings march past them
bring me a coat
it's too much to bear
or put me out of misery
just one bullet, i swear
let my motherland know
i never let her fall
please light a fire
this loss has to stall
one ordered to attack brutally
one failed to comply
one was a bureaucrat in parliament
one followed a war cry
in war there are no sinners
truly, in war there are no winners
The more we speak
the less we are understood
the less it's talked about
oh, the triviality
casting its essence
mirthing in the corner
silent in every way
cutting your soul from inside
smiling as you say
haste, love is fragile
and there's not much time
hinder there just for once
she lies in her grave
with tombstone painted gold
engraved with words-
Here or nowhere
laugh all one could
cry as you should
blunt killers everywhere
luring behind the woods
live as you love
love all your life
the world is a slaughterhouse
prepare to be the knife...
Illustration: Someone anonymous to you but not me
BEAUTIFUL PERSON AWARD! Once you are given this award you’re supposed to paste it in the asks of eight people who deserve it. If you break the chain nothing happens, but it's sweet to know someone thinks you’re beautiful inside and out !! <3
Thank you.
I don't know 8people to tag, so in retrospect I mention @thewindandthewolves ×8
There's just something vivid in these pins and rings and other shiny things
they kill you
without an ounce of mercy
just like a finely aged wine
they posses you
they crawl in your thoughts
dopamine falseness
instant addiction
the moment you observe them
they ignite a fire of indecency
luring you
baiting you once again
ardently but steadily
they soak your gaze so much
that you can't imagine her without them
allusions, and interpretations
all fall in disgrace
you seek banality
you find visual poise
mind paints stars
you get dirt
fingers feel empty
as a painter with nothing on his canvas
he could paint heavens and angels
still chooses a man
face devoid of soul
deserted cities of gold
and as the trident of kailasa
the enigma it holds
folks and follies
myths and fantasies
all rest uncertainly
as hellish havoc it brings
there's just something vivid
about these pins and rings and other shiny things
she possesses my soul, which she carries gracefully in her nose pin
I still am mad
and at this point who isn't
as I lay my eyes in a thing
it starts growling with agony
a scream of insanity
which shooks me to my core
livid and sly
dead as a corpse
lays my soul
on moors far away
where once roamed the greats
who are now mads
forgotten from every page
erased from ballads
neglected in commotions
feared in hostility
they once were heroes
still are
but no one claims them boldly
social disgust eats them
in a world
where shoes are placed in showcases
and books sold on roads
what's more that's not thinkable
glued and hooked
devoid of freedom
my fingers talk
and tongue is useless
why do I speak
to whom I convey
what's my story
why am I so weak
still holding respect
to the forgotten Kafka
the devilish Van Gogh
or the dame Agatha
when I can preach
a godess of seduction
who has never failed to glow
in a world
where everyone have screens
let's kindle life
for freedom is choice
and war is peace
I've sat here infinite times
ate here too
got drunk over memories
and rinsed from bottled elixirs
but how could I
have not noticed once
that the food here was vapid
non savorable
stale
the drinks here were diluted
with poise and agony
more than enough to kill man
how I never noticed the stains on the tablecloth
the slight creakiness of chairs
the long waits after ordering
the astringent water
and how I suddenly notice now
that everything is messed up
and never was this place special
it was all you
you and just you
you made this place
this food
this very chair
special
you and only you
the salt of my life
you
Why rains sound so romantic in movies and poetries and fairy-fictions?
If rains are romantic, why wuthering heights suffered every time a thunder ruffled over its moors?
Why rains are romantic if you cannot just light your cigarette while walking through one of your favorite paths, and listen to 'cold/mess' with headphones on?
Cause romantic rains are made up stuff. Poets and writers deluded the whole of humanity, into loving things that are undesirous and blunt.
The rainy puddles, creaks of forgs and toads, muddy offtracks, slump sounds, birdless skies, parks with empty benches, childrens eating ice-creams, elders reading newspapers and discussing politics, and everything that rains prevents us from reliving.
Simply that, or might it be that we need condolences, at every turn, at every bit, after every attempt, either condolence or appraisal. Humans are weak. We seek motivation from some dumb made-up characters rather than the great warriors, compassion from lyrics of artists that might not even qualify to that term but the auto-tuned voices of them singing really the obvious makes us feel special about their talent, love from some wilting petals of flowers rather than grandma's morning tea routine for grandpa without fail for the past 57 years, empathy from influencers who posted a black-box in protests of racism and murders of George Floyd and Breonna Taylor pretending to stand against racism and on the next post posting how to apply a lotion properly to look fair, insightfulness from people who Di Caprio portrayed in his movies rather than himself from his Oscar winning speech about the Arctic defreezing.
Rains are just that bright pandora boxes, camouflaged nicely by poets and writers and artists, so that we continue to ignore it, even when it occurs that it portrays life-defining roles.
Rains are not merely romantic, yet some people romanticize it, pluviophiles I guess, but writing it as a status on your social media profile, and being it, is as vivid of a difference as a concussed man distinguishing a bee and a sparrow.
Rains aren't romantic, people are, so stop putting out weather statements, and start loving a little more, no matter what, just a little day by day.
And as Jane Austen said-
If I loved you less, I would have been able to talk about it more
reach that level of unconditional love, undeniable and truest.
Women are the salt of earth, everything possible and anything real, is a woman.
Why women?
Why not a man?
Isn't the world strong like a man and not sensitive like a women?
Then why women?
Why the goddess of war, is a goddess, if war is such a manly thing, it brings glory to a 'man' and 'his family', then why worship a women?
Why soldiers patrolling the snow-clad peaks of the Himalayas chant "जय मां दुर्गे" (Jai Maa Durge- Hindu goddess of valor and protection), if the entitlement of protection of his house belongs to a man, why chant for a women?
Why a nation has men as their 'father' or 'guardian', but the nation itself is a women and called 'motherland'?
Why is it that every time we curse, we curse a women, but the language we curse in is our 'mother tongue'?
Why women?
Everyday, we worship, pity, pray, fight, envy, caress, lust, love, curse, seduce, a women, everyday.
When the world was created, the focal point was evolution. It was the driving force, particles of dust changed thier course to form stars, moons, earth, galaxies, and what not. Heavens, hell, enigmas, mysteries, everything came to existence and evolved continuously, or as the universe states- 'Change being the only Constant'.
And as evolution laid her eyes on the fortune of humans, being the most complex yet the most fragile of its creations, we failed to adhere change as a part of our system. We nonetheless evolved too, but rendered the need of a strong, never-changing, fixation point, and thus women were born.
Everything a man could think, crave, thirst, fantasize, see, taste, smell, touch, became women. Attributions layered the cores to form to form vivid deviations, but the centre retained the same, being a woman.
All things, a man is, is of a women's origin.
- Heavens with angles to make us believe that death too, is rewarding.
- Love is a women, that men inject in them to survive this world.
- Food we eat is pity and blessings of a women (Demeter/ अन्नपूर्णा)
- The lord we praise for everything and life is a women.
The air we breathe, the water we drink, and everything and anything a man, constitutes from this universe for its existence, is a women.
Thus, women.
//
Women of love
may I meet you
as I did to the hollows of my heart
where darkness resides
along with many mundane thoughts
women of trust
may mirth resides
as I've for my home
as I lay across the floor
no heaven safer than it
women of truth
belong to me
as Plath did to her very poetry
beautiful yet doomed
but etched forever
women of beauty
let me see you
see what you hold, see through you
as you'll be ice, chilly and melting
and the spirits too, to appreciate you
women of the world
may I interest you
to have a look at me
that I'll finally meet some of you
and then rest my life in heaven with you
Happy Crême Brulée.
Tired Milano Cookie
Hopefully exhausted chocolate
Sleepy donut
Humans are merely destitute, nothing to protect and nothing to provide. We were rich as we trace history back to the roots of origin, no money but rich. Now we have democracy, economics, republics, philosophies, fiction, folklores, feasts, and all the words we now consider mundane, that comprise our daily selves, but we are not rich.
Destitutes are more aggressively cornered, justice could be brought, you cannot hunt an elephant now but can buy licensed ivory, cannot kill anybody but self defend a death, cannot cry at life but you could suicide to make people regret for some time. We have reached a point where every thing we've learnt from history is just a myth or a manuscript rendering no use.
Rich is now more a bank statement than a mental state.
Health is now just an escape from the society, a man seeks home only after he is tired of being a creature of Aristotelian diplomacy, and we consider him as an healthy individual. Wealth is health now. Pride is money. Power is power. And you and I with the power to read are just devices that earn puddings.
You are very good at writing beautiful things full of feelings 💕
Thank you, your words mean a lot
All these lovers and no love at all, the guy standing fourth in the line with a bag of groceries in one hand and crutches in other with balding hairline, the girl at Target with curls and slight hunch in her shoulders, the veteran army man who has now spent sixty infinities alone with the same song of bullets running through his head and not even one through it to put him out of his misery, the literature professor who is the most passionate about Austen and Brontë than whole of the universe single-handedly struggles to find a perfect place to have her coffee where she could find someone to talk about it, a high school boy just reimagining his prom night once again overthinking each and every possibility to go after her. we all must be brave enough to endure the reality that not everyone gets everything no matter how hard you work. sometimes we just fail. we know that we are surrounded full with people yet the solitude when we reach home and fail to find a single soul to have a conversation about our day demolishes every ounce of hope and rendition. the world indeed is full of lovers and yet some find none, and is cataclysmic
Quietly went off the rain showers
For there's was sun again
but too bleak to mark himself
just bringing dawn late and dark early
and lo! September's here
rain some bliss
and make me fall in love with earth again
Schooling wasn't about just 6 hours of study
It was about tiffin boxes, last pages of notebooks, paper planes, friendly curses, canteen escapades, running in corridors, mimicking teachers, trolling the lazies, discussing whole dreams, innocent love, creepy watchman chats, washroom tours, vibing together to a song all at the same time, lingering through benches just to jam with your homies, chalk-fights, wall graffitis, stepping on each other shoes, borrowing pen for taking notes and never returning them, heaven like PE time periods, classroom hootings, crying when failed to clear sems, and boasting while topping classes, cheek kisses of pure bliss, made-up games just to punch each other, group projects, admirable chemistries, and everything I felt, you felt,
just blissful
Most of our childhood is not stored in photo,
it resides in certain biscuits, the morning tv cartoons, the afternoon naps, textures of walls, puddles on grounds, raindrops from roofs, branches of tree, running through corridors, happiness when someone shook hands instead of running their fingers through your hair.
and it probably ails each one of us, constant itchy sensation, at a place one could not even scratch, just suffer, and wish to get over it, somehow....