ColdPlay -Miracles

This song, for some reason, is taking me off what I feel sorry for what I am mainly in the way I see the odds of the world. This is awesome, more, when you pick up the music and muse these lines. I am going to share some of the music stuff other than my poetry that really keep influencing me to be alive, all time.
 Here we go. -Aroon Che

From up above I heard
The angels sing to me these words
And sometimes in your eyes
I see the beauty in the world
Oh, now I'm floating so high
I blossom and die
Send your storm and your lightning to strike
Me between the eyes
Eyes
Sometimes the stars decide
To reflect in puddles in the dirt
When I look in your eyes
I forget all about what hurts
Oh, now I'm floating so high
I blossom and die
Send your storm and your lightning to strike
Me between the eyes
And cry
Believe in miracles
Oh hey, I'm floating up above the world now
Oh hey, I'm floating up above the world now
Oh yeah, yeah, yeah
Uh, uh, uh, yeah, yeah, yeah
Uh, uh, uh

Written by Anthony John Martin, Guy Rupert, Jonathan Buckland, William Champion • Copyright © Universal Music Publishing Group

Watch it on youtube 

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Of love and liberty

No one digs their own skin 
Deep to find a timid angel
Hiding from plays what the body run
To the mind in the race of survival
The caves that our best 
Go dark all the day 
And bright all the night
As dark as what your poems say
Stop by the space between the hands 
Of clock and measure your life
To why we run always
Pumping the greed beyond its size
Give a chance to self
Be the angel that brings you out of this grief.
Be the angel, of love and liberty

-Aroon Che

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The Fearless

 No wonder where you walk in
And who you walk out from
The fear that struggles inside you
To kill itself looks at the world outside
Through the glassy skins of yours
Tells me one thing,about love.
That no one is free
But good enough to be free.
And that no one is a slave
But bad enough to be one.
It is where we are now
Where the mountains want to flow
Like spineless rivers
And where the dying rivers want to reborn
As those ageless mountains
Its not who you are
But who you fear to be
That cuts down most of your smile, inch by inch.

-Aroon Che

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Survive to Win

" With bone sticking physics, and burning eyes as red as some setting star , he spoke his last words of our journey.  We werent big philosophical throughout this last meeting because we knew we are failing, right from the inception of these aged ideologies and meaningless rebel attitude. We burnt down a  railway station last week and a post office the other week. We didnt know the force that chased us to do these things. I was twelve then and now I am thirty.  He was lying before me with a pain of dying truth. He began to resonate his last lines into my mind.
" The one and only truth is survival. Survival is like drinking nature with tumbler made of hunger and rights. Everyone will have one. Now thats where many of us complain. Why do some drink more and why the rest less ?  You have to dig into nature , fight the odds and then dip your tumbler to get this nature. Many of us stay forever poor because they sell their tumblers to the clever and stay lazy the rest of their lives. They sell and work day and night helping the rich to dig nature. They die poor.
Never ever sell your right and your hunger to anyone. It will cost you a revolution.
He died and I left for the town in last bus before it dawned.
The forest died."
- The Wednesday Girl
   Aroon Che

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The Showlight

There is this small guy who , I see daily,  plays the game in the best way anyone would imagine to. But from a little conversation with him I sensed not a trace of happiness. He talked about his ways and norms he created for himself to play the game and what he said is what exactly made him different from other players and this difference or lacuna stuck me point blank when he pointed to me a far away structure, I believe,  which is a stadium.

He sighed that he could never get into it and he had reasons. He said his play is unacceptable.  He constantly contributed himself to street plays and training guys he meet there which, with no second thought, fetched him nothing but those little smiles he never fakes.

Asking why he never tried to play for real audience, all I could get is a good volume of silence from his face with smile still hanging on.He asked me to define audience.

By the time its evening, he left me a note which I got to read in the evening bus,
that said in plain words, " When you move out from your own self,  the world is then ready to lecture and becomes your audience. And you will need to play for them more than what you want to play for your self. I dont need that kind of audience that chase me beyond my dreams."
I folded it back to my diaries and looked onto the setting sun. The guy is there somewhere in the narrow lanes, playing with the street guys and when he finishes it he goes back to sleep smiling.  But isnt that victory? But what is real  audience he is talking about?

Lastly I learnt, a loser is not when he doesnt know the answers but he is really one when he himself doesnt understand the answers he is writing. And a winner is not when he completes his answers he is expected to write, he is really when his answers give rise to new questions.
I just couldn't get him answers.  I feel some make their way to graves too early, too sober.
May be their life expectancies are far shorter than their breakeven points.
Or may be there is never a thing like Audience.

The bus hit the highway and I got into sleep.

- Aroon Che

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