With no

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Raabta

Why do we chain our legs to the speed
And fall in love with everything on the way?
Why do we jump from heights with no fear to be alone
And look for some feathers to fly the the skies for company?
Why do we derail from the tracks you engine your train on
And still run straight with a fear of being lost?
No one is lonely
As long as they dream
The thoughts will make you
Slave though free
Weak though strong
Surrounded though alone
Like those marsupials
We grow odd with bags on
Full of dreams and desires.
No wonder I see freedom as illusion
As the very thought of being free is carrying a desire.
So is everything.
Ours is to evolve not to grow old
Move one but not to survive.

Why do we chain our legs to the speed

Aroon Che

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Toys and

“Children, who like toy animals, love them to an extent that they breathe in air into those toys. They bring the toys to life. The toy cat starts mewing, the toy dog starts barking, the toy horse starts running, and the teddy begins smiling. Is that love? Or is it the power of imagination?

And when these children grow up to boys and then to men, they live enough close to this scenario. They create an imaginary world, which they dreamt last night, modify their body languages to bring smiles around, impress people, flaunt something that’s unnecessary and many more , that the sum total of all this bring their imagined world of being centric to life. The world is the biggest toy they handle. But dynamic enough to respond , unlike the toy animals , the world shows them its original face, a real face, which these grown up children, I mean the adults , get confused to accept it, spending most of their prime time to discriminate the original and imaginary world. It creates a lot of pain. I know, I face this every night.

They grow old soon, get angry very often, hate friends for they aren’t suiting to their imagined features, feels depressed because they feel no one is helping them, never shares their new ideas, tries to be isolated  and die very soon unhappy. This is the biggest suicide of the mankind. Killing oneself very slow that one can’t even detect the spreading of this poison. This is a harsh truth. Now that neither you nor I started this game, we are helpless but to follow its rules, diplomatically making trends.

This is where inspiration begins to come around. A small thing, but could make a big difference. Nobody sells it, it’s made from within. We can find it for ourselves this inspiration which guides us to stop playing with this big toy, the world, and breathe life into ourselves. That’s what real life is. Are you searching for happiness? Then, you better stop searching for a reason to be good to yourself and the world around. Toys actually can be bent. They surely need us, not vice versa.”
-Aroon Che

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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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