What Mary is when she a little smiles I cannot even tell or call to mind, It is a miracle so new, so rare.
Percy Bysshe Shelley, ‘Lines scratched by Shelley on a window-pane at a house wherein he lodged’ (1815)
Awww 💓
Sade Olutola
🪼

Kiana Khansmith
One Nice Bug Per Day

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roma★
Cosmic Funnies
Show & Tell
Not today Justin
almost home
taylor price
d e v o n

tannertan36
we're not kids anymore.

Product Placement
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
sheepfilms
Jules of Nature
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
Game of Thrones Daily
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@whiteruminations
What Mary is when she a little smiles I cannot even tell or call to mind, It is a miracle so new, so rare.
Percy Bysshe Shelley, ‘Lines scratched by Shelley on a window-pane at a house wherein he lodged’ (1815)
Awww 💓
William Wordsworth’s manuscript of “I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud”
I WANDERED lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils; Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze [...]
Victorian edition of John Keats’ poems.
Oh my god. Gorgeous!
Lyrical Ballads (1798) by William Wordsworth & S.T. Coleridge.
“I had formed no very inaccurate estimate of the probable effect of those Poems: I flattered myself that they who should be pleased with them would read them with more than common pleasure: and, on the other hand, I was well aware, that by those who should dislike them, they would be read with more than common dislike. The result has differed from my expectation in this only, that a greater number have been pleased than I ventured to hope I should please.”
- William Wordsworth, Preface to Lyrical Ballads.
Feeling not so great. I am up against a rock. It felt like a bush. It's dissapointing. It's ironic because It's the day of LOVE. Lets imagine Her hair Her eyes Her beautiful mouth. And the evening collapsing In with the stars in my arms. Let's remember. The happy fairy tales. LOVE.
Clink, clink, clink and thud The blacksmith does his trade, Clink, clink, clink and thud, He works on the burning spade,
His children all look up to him, Look up with awe-ful eyes, Sweaty beard and glistening arms, Tremendous respect rise!
His good ole’ wife with the bulging belly, His dad with the thickety beard, And the unwed women all hover around, The blacksmith clinks the spear!
He earns, good sir, he earns em’ bread, With arms as strong as stone, Don’t scorn him for his tattered clothes, Nor frown upon his bleeding wounds, For after driveling throughout the week, He thanks lord for the little he owns! -26/1/2016
When I came to Delhi sir,
Tu tu ru tu ru,
I got so very smart,
Tu tu ru tu ru,
I learnt now to swindle sir,
I learnt how bark.
Now I am so cunning sir,
I’ve learnt to count my notes,
I kick dirty homeless sir,
I trick wealthy blokes,
And my good old rags sir,
People laughed on them,
This Delhi is a marvel sir,
I sold my soul and
Bought these gems.
(For the city loves these gems)
- 23/1/2016
New piece, hope you like it! xo Lang
…………….
My NEW book Memories is now available for pre-order via Amazon, BN.com + The Book Depository and bookstores worldwide. Official launch is October 2015. Yay!
THE BLANKET MEN
Recently I read an article published by Al Jazeera which said that the world is not producing enough intellectual-thinkers. Thinkers of such prowess that they become very dear to a country’s civil society. People have immense respect for their opinions, so much so, that the state can’t touch these men without fearing absolute mayhem on streets. These people, are not afraid to ring a discordant note in the smooth rhetoric of the state, rather, they consider it their responsibility to break down intricacies into simpler words, and pass the knowledge to public.
I’ll try to explain this with an example. Let’s suppose there is a furniture-maker, making tables and chairs for a living. A small business. But where is the wood coming from? If he thinks this through, then he is a thinker. But let’s move on with the story. If he is taking the wood that is being sheared off illegally, then he surely wouldn’t buy the wood. No one in their right mind would. Now, for business, this is problematic and has to be dealt with. For this, the wood-seller invests in a company. This company takes care of the conscience issue. It invites the furniture-maker to their office and tells him -very smoothly- that they are running an NGO for children from the profits they make. And, of course, that is a side detail -the thing that matters to him is that the wood is of good quality and available cheap. Sweet deal. Now that this buffer zone has been created, replete with grins, handshakes, coffees and some discussion of the country’s social problems, the furniture-maker goes ahead with the deal hoping to make a difference to the country’s poor. A clear conscience maintained. Perfect. A whole forest wiped out at dirt cheap cost, the wood-seller makes a fortune, pays a crumb to the advertiser, throws another to the “NGO”. Still a hefty profit. Perfect.
Only if the furniture maker thought where the fucking wood is coming from! But to come to think of it, it’s not difficult to realize why we do not care of it at all! We are poor people, and when middle class tastes money, they want more and more of it. It’s addiction and with a few masterstrokes, they can be rich. Dirty rich. Secondly, most of us don’t know what is happening. We are gullible people. And in awe of money. We worship entrepreneurs and put up Bill Gates’ poster in our rooms, wishing to be like them some day. “Hard work is the key,” they said. Thirdly, the blanket people -the people responsible of keeping our conscience clear by advertizing, marketing, promoting products- are too terrific at their work. The thought of enquiry into the grassroot level simply leaves our mind. Everything is available at competitive prices, we want everything, all the time. It leaves no time to think.
When this happens, the furniture maker’s is not the only case. It’s a free market economy, things grow on an exponential scale and the snow ball grows bigger and bigger and bigger. Either you are a part of it, or you will remain poor. Enter the mainstream or die with lesser friends, constant criticisms and of course, poor. The ball is largest- just before collapsing and wrecking havoc all around.
That’s why I think the thinkers would have to be people who know the system, who know the system inside and out. Who are financially independent and do not fear starvation if they abstain from the scam, or the “inside”. These thinkers will have to be very courageous, because the snowball is big and lethal. They will be of immense understanding and who can communicate complex and apparently –special vocabulary of corporates– to the poorest people. These thinkers would bust the blanket-factory. They’d passionately believe that a people of a country has the right to understand for themselves what is actually happening. They will have to replace the current role models of the young and inspire them to think originally. The exploiters fear when the employees think. It is most pleasant to them if the workers just do what they are required to do, and repeat the routine the next day. And epithets such as “hard-work”, “my role”, “my karmas” are used to guile him into being complicit with the functioning of the establishment. It suits them perfectly.
I think it’s about time we start thinking. It’s about time for everything to not be so pruned. Some wilderness is good. It’s healthy. It’s natural.
*Please repost if you found the article making sense.*
-Nishant
A Letter to Delhi University from a graduate of Delhi University
Dear University,
First of all, thank you. These three years of graduation have been the happiest time of my life. I met some of the nicest individuals here, shared amazing memories, laughed my stomach out with them but do you know what I loved the most? Securing a front bench every morning to study English literature. After studying Science at school in 11th and 12th, and having gone through a disastrous phase with it in college after that; restarting my graduation and studying B.A. (H) English turned out a brilliant decision. As someone who had hit rock-bottom and had nothing to lose but his terrible self-esteem, I started going to college. And whoa! How I absolutely loved Pride and Prejudice, Hard times, The Mill on the Floss, Jane Eyre! Before I knew, I was spending far lesser time with my friends as I’d scud off to the college library after classes and in between them. Not just to stay ahead in the texts, but because I derived pleasure and felt a certain transformation happening in me. The literature, especially the language of the Victorian literature fell like herbs on my still open scars. My past was still too vivid for me to take this second chance for granted. And in this way the semesters rolled on and I fell deeper and deeper in love with the English language, which has now spilled out into Hindi and Urdu literature as well. Now I write poetry on my instagram account in both English and Hindi. All because of you.
Like many others, I had also planned to do M.A in English and I was excited like hell. But that was not to be. I fell short of a few marks and now I shall have to settle with IGNOU even after scoring more than 1400 marks in graduation (MM 2200). While some people I know, who are far less deserving and scored more than 200 marks less than me have made it, through reservation. Some people who had multiple backs, and start calling me when exams drew near and who never read texts but hiccupped on by reading guide books will now plod on through MA. It is excruciating for me. I am not the only victim of reservation. I know many others who have done a lot, besides being good at academics, to bring prestige to the English department of my college. Be it competitions, film festivals, fests, debates, they’d stay back even after dark and work. They may not be as raged out as I am but they do share my grief.
Why is there reservation at MA level when they’d already got the benefit in graduation? Did we, the ‘higher castes’ have extra classes? Did the teachers come to our homes to teach us? Were we offered leniency in exams? There was nothing which was a prerogative peculiar to the General-Category. We shared the same class, food, bench, teachers, working ours in the day (everyone had 24 hours only). All of us were, so to say, evenly poised. Yet I scored more marks than some and in turn, some achieved better results than me. But in the end, it didn’t even matter as some of our mates got through easy.
Where will this stop? When will reservation keep out and everyone get a FAIR chance?
Dear DU, I have not got admission in the Faculty of Arts, and all my hopes are now dashed. I have accepted that by now. I am even beginning to look at the brighter side of the mountain. By studying via correspondence, I will have free time to gain work experience. And though the rage in me is ebbing by the day, I wish to tell you, that this establishment has denied admission to someone who truly loved literature and would’ve brought accolades to your name. I know this is decreed by the constitution and I am paying for the misdeeds my ancestors did, but it hardly pacifies the pain. This letter is an effort to catharsis-out some of that without offering a solution to the caste problem present in the country. It is indeed very much visible in rural India. But presently, I am just frustrated.
I will study the twelve books of Paradise Lost, I will also study classical literature nevertheless, and persevere to study further as I can. My only lament is, it shall not be at Delhi University. This is a loss to both you and me. And a loss to this nation, undoubtedly.
- An ex-Delhi University student.
- 8th August, 2015
Sorry, I am not able to post more often these days, my exams are going on. They end soon and then I'll read alot and travel alot and post alot more. I would love to hear from you all. DM me where you wish to. 😊🌄 #poetrycommunity #poetryinmotion #poetryisnotdead #poetryofinstagram #poetryslam #poetryofig #writersofinstagram #writersofig #writerscommunity #nishantwrites
17.5.15 | If you see anyone feeling lonely, please talk to him. There is ample of love in the world to fill in the vacancy in the bosoms which live on the shadowy side. •my eternal friend• #poetrycommunity #poetryinmotion #poetryisnotdead #poetryofinstagram #poetryslam #poetryloving #poetryporn
I think everyone should speak to people who appear to be in distress. Even little conversations help, having been through a particularly hard phase of life, I have learnt never to take happiness for granted. #poetrycommunity #poetryinmotion #poetryofinstagram #poetryslam #poetrygram #nishantsharma #emotionalwreck
I hope you'll understand that I am not the one for you because I am not what you see. I live outside my skin and sometimes even steal deep buried secrets in people's souls. Why would you want to spend your life with such a condemned person? #poetrycommunity #poetryinmotion #poetsofinstagram #poetrygram
That's why I love sleeping. :) #poetrycommunity #poetryinmotion #poetryisnotdead #poetrygram #poetsofinstagram #poetsociety #night #sleepless #nocturnal
And then playing video games always helps me. #poetrycommunity #poetryinmotion #poetryisnotdead #poetryofinstagram #poetryslam #poetryoflove #sadness. #unfulfilled
And then I'll keep thinking about you. #poetrycommunity #poetryinmotion #poetryisnotdead #poetryofinstagram #poetryslam #poetryloving #poetryporn