Do you love writings?

                                         Who wouldn't want to become famous? Not you? Well, I'm dreaming of becoming one. "Dreaming" , that makes a perfect sense. I dream of becoming successful, but then I find myself on my bed, clock shows 6 A.M. in the morning, my friend pulling my sleeve with an angry look on his face " Wake up man, I hate that alarm tone on your phone." . You google " how to be famous" and open wiki how and first thing it suggests is you need to be confident, passionate and what not. And I'm like WHAT THE HELL!! Then, an idea struck me. Ek idea jo badalde aapki duniyaa. The stupid idea was, creating a facebook page and becoming successful. At the first thought, I was like HAHAHAHAHA!!! But then I said to myself ; " Bill gates too must've had pretty stupid thoughts. Go create a facebook page, become famous and hang out with him like brothers from another moth...

                                  https://www.planetdeadly.com/human/incredible-nuclear-explosion-photos Lost in the wave of destruction, Lost the way of deduction, Expanded, exploded, Ants are a couple of glocks reloaded, But Nuclear elements make elephant. Lost in the wave of destruction, Lost in the way of destruction, Won that way of destruction. Unknown that, Man, Lost in the way, Lost, in the grave, graves. Losing, the great, The great, losing his way. Using the grape juice, spill on the eyes, It hit the wrong place. Was it a plan? All but those human hands do wrong, But what's controlling is brain. Soldier dies, They watching his grave, Hiding behind are Great, Lost in the way, Lost in the grave, I eat the soil 6 feet deep from underground. A zombie, Posing as great, Possessing the greats, The REAL ones. Bombard the explosion of love, killing the hate....

Saw a man dead pillow red "We won't allow your raid" the extremists said. "Who says pen over guns? Guns paint rose red. Red dead great." the extremists said. "Life gives you lemons. Lemons dead." the pessimists said. I write this book of rhymes. Books, no feeling,books not feeling. I feel the book. But books not feeling.Abstract. Personification at the finest, it does not speak yet, abstract. Open up your top, mo:mo:, your flour but no filling.Abstract. You see yourself on a fast lane, let me walk slow on fast track, still abstract. Sky is tumbling, guns with red hand falling, pen with red blood falling Blood tastes like lemon though. I gave them my book to read and they remarked, "This book spoke though." "You're the one that makes me"; mo:mo: barked. "You're leading them, so be careful, walk slow" , you know who spoke.

Was brought back to life, by blissful orthodox, Then foresaw this society Robot cops Government  dogs I'm ignorance, I'm paradox No food stamps, feed lies flavour of variety Overflow of passion, or ridiculed with suicidal thoughts, lack of compassion, and they're your boss Strive for the conquest philosophical contest All these human lies Is philosophy your food, when you're this kid from Africa? My problem's never serious Your stupidity should die, it never could. Maybe you'll stop crying When you're country's a Syria GET IT?? YOU'RE SERIOUS? But ... Let us all be Buddha.

She asked me what art of seduction was, I swayed my lips across hers, hers were bleeding. Zillion bars, were falling down as a million stars. Vulnerable as she was, I could mislead it but understood her holy texts, reading, without her speaking. They say, patience dwells on silence mine dwells where she's missing, vulnerable as she was, fell down a million stars, a million stars, vermilion stars, blood dripping, word behind bars. I swayed my lips across hers, hers were bleeding, I gave her my last kiss, goodbye, a poor man taken by the war, run dear, guns are near.

                  Picture credit   http://wallpaper.imcphoto.net/phoenix-pictures.html "Rising up out of the flames like a phoenix." A phoenix keeps on flying, having lived for hundreds of years burns and is reborn from its own ashes. But he, he was just an ordinary bird lost in the path of life, a bird who wanted to fly high and would envy the story of a phoenix. When they met, phoenix would impart immense wisdom on this miserable creature. The phoenix was wise, but he wasn't. He was trying to conquer everything, it wasn't. Having enlightened thousands of souls, it was an exemplary example of a thin air hiding gems, an elixir, a wisdom, but the ordinary one was lost in the thing called life. Millions of souls changed, but he didn't, he just kept on burning. For he always had one wish : for his ashes to fly high, the highest. He was a story of the bird that flew away. Being a bird of an an unknown species, he still looked same as...

Oh man I'm writing this. All the laziness that had taken over is being gradually exorcised. "Wake up , you lazy ass"; my dad scolds me, "You're so damn lazy" ; my mom frets. Couple of months back ,when I asked my friend for suggestion to put this laziness into dump , he was like; " Man , can't you see me relaxing? Making my brain work on this boring topic. Laziness is so cool ,so stop your whining ". The same guy was asking me as of why he couldn't get a girlfriend. Ok,  I don't have one either. Some of you don't. But why the hell am I bringing up this topic? Ah man, my chest hurts.   *remembers he has no girlfriends, cries in the corner* So this is me Atmajyoti (my name is wierd all right ... but I'm over it already) from Nepal. I was thinking of writing something since ages. The tomorrows'd been increasing day by day. But I was unable to write, not because I was having a writer's block but because I was too lazy to ...