Then I came across something that changed my life.
Life and writing aren’t about that subordinate clause we read in our school. It’s something dark & unpleasant that makes us the ‘writer’ we are.
But, in real life:
We see many talented writers, and we envy them (all year long). We knot their achievements with black magic, fake leads, bogus publicity, and whatnot. Ever done that?
Everybody does. We forget that writers’ painful background still exists (even if we don’t know it yet). Two things make a writer:
Are you satisfied with what you write?
It seems like what every writer wants is to “write as much as they can.” 50 words? 200?….no, write until your fingers hurt.
Is this your blueprint of success? Ever thought?
A YES or NO question followed by either a sigh of relief (or a panic sweat.) What you do after, matters.
It’s not normal. It’s not healthy. It leads to repeated rejection and lousy writing. If it contains writing so that people will fancy it, you will not succeed elsewhere- not only Medium.
As it said, think before you speak; from today…
Does death affect you, or you affect your death?
I lit a candle
In lightroom full of darkness
In a room without a way to go
To a place with roads but no hope
I see the seasons of grief
And all the dead shattering leaves
I knock on the door of my memory library
Moving the candle until I find my past
I’d be grateful for just one more day
I told my angel of death
Wishing it was right there, to say
I’d be grateful for just one more chance
The signature of your love came with a…
An immortal icon when paired with nature.
‘Hope’ is the thing with wind
That gulps down in the soul
And sings the tune without the words
And never stops — at all
And sweetest — in the gale — is heard
And Darkness must be the storm
That could abash the tiny hope bones
That kept us warm — all day long
I’ve heard it in the chillest land
And off the strangest tress
Yet, never, in Extremity
It asked a crumb — of Me.
A biscuit’s will to become a moon.
Reminiscing how I used to denote a biscuit with a moon
As a kid, in the kitchen, making it in a perfectly round shape
Now that my cookie maker is long gone
And I’m grown up
Each day I see the moon
And transgress the souls hidden
A twenty-year-old memory creps up on me
As I had a moon cookie dunk up into my tea
Like it’s swimming inside the foam
Chatting about the thing they don't get to see
And sadness came along hand-in-hand and hugged me The moon cookie buries memories…
If it’s meant for you, it will make you glow.
Seeing the world through ears
The glittering soul demerged
Humans plodded unmoved and biased
Shattering those heart pieces
Which arose that day.
The hunger for malice raging louder
The door banging on the hell’s Hodor
The heir of clouds stopped shattering light
To the faces of those who are elegant.
Earth’s light-filled dim
The Nur of the time propelled its right
The power omnipotent than the light
The light of the sun and moon as a whole.
Through the window between heart and face The outer layer of powder puffs…
This will change how you write.
Writing articles fast is an art form I’ve spent some time perfecting. See, I don’t really want to spend more than 20 minutes a day writing a story.
And here’s a trick that I use: Bookmarks
Lately, I have got to a point where without Bookmarks, I can’t form words on the page. Bookmarks have become my dream catcher — or in other words; idea catcher.
Yes, bookmarks… you heard me right. Don’t judge me!
I have collected bookmarks from all over the world. All my life. Since a child. Umm ya, and unfortunately…
Wipe the dust from the mirror because they’re never coming back.
The steps neat to mark
The tour getting blur and poignant
Birds coming back to the momentary trance
To follow them to the lost souls
Stolen hope by the sunny evening
We ride into the dismayed caskets
To get the illusion of our mistakes
That only darkness can teach us
The clouds mock and mirrored
The melody stopped humming ballad
The moon is here before it should
The moon weeps but as dew
We shovel at the center of the garden Our feet engraving our energy in the soil…
What if you could live for free? It may sound like a dream, but it is really possible.
I live for free.
And only pay around 25% of my mortgage payment.
How? I catalyze (up) ways to have other people pay my housing costs. Side hustles save you to grind in a 9–5 job — enrolling in a House Hacking doesn’t even require a job.
Welcome to 2021.
Here’s everything about house hacking which I used to reduce my housing payment to an unpleasant memory.
The short answer is yes. It is 100% possible to live for free with the…
If it doesn’t melt inside, it won’t mold you.
The window squeaked open
The air leaping with the drippings
A candle reminded me of the sorrows
Saying farewell to all the lost days
and fortunate new
I ran, skipping the pebbles to the river
I sat down with a handful of water
Wanting to drink it, swallow it
Not letting it blunder of my hand,
Saluting it to let all the sadness melt away
I swung the air with pleasure I see a boat nearby of a titanic I sat on it; we chatted for hours Until wood glazed with…