Skip to main content

The slow decent

 Nope this is not a philosophical one
or maybe it is, but I think I am done
with trying to explain everything, it's not fun
but wait I don't do it for fun and you know it son
and oh! my hair is falling I wish I had a man-bun
I love butts so you see that was a pun hun
what confused? Why does it makes no sense after the first few hums?
well this is just a what the title says, read moron
this is what insanity feels like, it's fine one
day and the next day it is less fine, not gone
from sanity, like you are there yesterday and all of a sudden
BOOM! you are insane, you see there is no fun
in that, there is no fun in shooting yourself with a gun
but there is fun in going for a run 
and being eaten by bears like nom nom
shit too dark I guess but you get the point hun
so remove that shit in your mind and see ya cunt
see how it feels like to go insane through my poems
the process slow decent into insanity and supersanity is still not done
well not technically mine but I am ranting so it is my home
turf as well but you see, this ain't just a stunt
Ignore this corner in the interweb and you may loose someone
think about what I just said in this  Poop rant
It is a long process not a one day event
and insane is something you slowly become...

- Yakaa: Jujaan


Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

memor....hallucination

that cute little butt of hers those beautifull brunette curls that flows across her face yeah the same one with button nose and her smile the one that goes all the way to her heart it was nothing but a lie oh why did i had to lie??? why did i had to break that promise i made her yeah i cried but tears stopped right before they reached my eyes i had a reason for ending it and she knew it every bit so well: even more than me that she could tell what i had to say hello miss cuddles! well you ain't there thats just my hallucination please don't stare at me i can't bare to see you go, where are you now??? nowhere but in my brain -yakaa: jujaa #felicity (i wrote this one some two years back. back then i was called eklo yatri. meanings the same it's just a matter of language. dedicated to felicity. she meant the world to me. n even though we have drifted apart i still hallucinate her voice)
3 comments
Read more

when a writer dies

A lot has been said  a lot had to be said that's what we do, we the word warriors that's what we do, we the hurt worriers that's at times all we have that's at times all we can slap others with, our mode of expression that's the skill we have chosen to hone after years and years of jolting down useless lines after days and months of thinking through times through times of worries and through times of stress word has been our last line of defense the things written but unspoken the lines written from the heart that is broken yes, that is the only thing we have at most times the only place where we can safely whine but there comes a time when all of it stops, There comes a time when the pen drops and that is what we consider our death when all that needs to be said has been said or when the last hope of hope has been laid to rest that's when we have lost interest not in our craft but in our lives that is when a writer truly dies and writers block is not the death ...
Post a Comment
Read more

lie

i act but that's all i got left to keep myself same from my own emotions, i don't want no help from anybody but i'm getting them from everybody but i feel no shame cause i haven't asked them from anyone and now i ain't got no home and my hearts turned into stone and after years of hone- ning my skills I've finally succeed in letting my head taking over my heart cause once broken and hurt heart only gives bad advice so we should only listen to it in trifle amount I've learned to ignore the sounds the voices in my head that speaks of hatred I've learned to lie so high that even the sky despises me, i like to hide the monster in me the one no one must ever see -yakaa: jujaa   
Post a Comment
Read more