On being a Genuis

While this is not the fist time i have thought about the issue of born genius vs made genius, today i found two delightful articles on this same issue. Although you may basically know the entire crux of the articles with a bit of logic, its worth reading as its neatly explained with science and facts.

Many have fallen in love with the idea of innate talents, hundreds of years of literature glorify these themes to set few common men apart from the rest. When I showed my nephew an article of how a teenager built a spectograph from $300 worth of off the shelf equipment, he promptly replied " God must have spent extra time with these kids". So needless to say, it is also a common excuse. Somehow, I think i will remember these articles for a long time as there are important lessons here that one may apply in life (like when bringing up your kids).

New Scientist article

Scientific American Article

examining contents of a Mind vomit

Come a day, when we may shed our sins like clothes. Not ripped, not torn, just sliding away and dissolve into the ground around your feet. Come a day when gravity may repel you, and lift your feet inches from the ground for you to wonder what what it feels to be truly removed from the world. Come a day which is not a day but a mix between seven sunrises and a moon, and we may loiter among the shore with crabs senselessly zig zagging sideways. We may look at the waves and bring out that sexy wide angle lens to capture the moment when the image of all seven suns are stamped on three single intersecting ripples of your morning tea with your officemates cleavage in the off center. Should anyone suddenly forget-no lets all really forget where this notion arrived from, just that it exists stark naked in the glaring sun blocking rush hour traffic, gracefully dodging all and any available justifications. Nobody cares if some crazy advertisers committed suicide having painted the town lavender green to promote their dying seaweed based nasal hair remover product that day. We were all thoroughly engrossed in hating ourselves the day before, and were looking, scavenging rather for anything that sparks that little engine in our brains so that we can justify that hate by appropriate responses. like writing truthful nonsense. Or trying to see if a single oxymoron can insult three world religions at the same time. Someone, somwhere must find this remotely amusing. I particular love listening to people talking from their hearts, amazing the lies that they force themselves to believe just so that they can wallow in their self imposed corner crying foul on thier existence to have been created so bleak. Yeah, right on! Who cares about truth when everything crumbles in the face of your very unique and particular "situation". Yeah yeah, who am i to talk? Thats exactly the spirit, don't ever let anyone destroy your mental stability, the miracle that is your backup plan needs extraordinary faith to be kept believable and its best you divert your creative abilities to serve this cause.Have you seen that beautiful ball of fire, where well rehearsed soldiers danced in the backdrop of the giant spume of algae? Its amazing how beautiful it is (x 10), to see the meeting of glimmering circles upon a ball of pure energy, pushing out the fabric of space around it and dispersing clouds like a celestial hiccup. How come i love watching nuclear explosions? What is crazy, isn't it all relative? Relativity is about quality, like the basic principle behind Google search. Dare we bother with the world when scientists are blending elementary particles like orange juice, in immense blenders called cyclotrons which, if not built could have provided the entire world with an years supply of blockbuster movies? Where are you Basho when i am 5-7-5 ing? Had you infected me with your spirit like i had asked, i would gladly sacrifice my buttocks in endless contemplation while capturing the essence of a butterfly's wings, a glowing ember, and a time worn cliff draped in vegetation like the fallen hair frozen at the moment of revealing a smile underneath.

Reaper, know this

When you come for me
Let it not be when i have forgotten you
reclining in splendor on laps of rosy maidens
come for me in winter, lost among lonely wolves

As you fix your stare upon my heart
Let not your wings beat upon an aged man
lost in a maze of reality, when my dreams no longer hint
of the promise i made before i was born

Do not vanquish my spirit with your scythe
until i have tamed it to an earthbound Pegasus
Come for me when it is only I, no other
who create the bars to my own cage.

Let not my arm slide to my side
creating wealth for its lovers
sprite me away, scaling the Kilimanjaro
let my last look be towards the blinding sun

Let not men of knowledge dissect my worn body
and clean it of disease to let me live half dead
take me when i am not expecting it
filled with bullets,arrows and love.

let not my war be won by your finality
until i crush my enemies to dust
cut not the chains to this earth
until i have loosened them, myself, alone.

Dare not bring me peace, i beg
until i pry that fruit from this barren earth
do not martyr me, do not shame me
with death fit for those great kings

take me away when there is no more land
that has not borne my calloused feet
take me when there is no more love
that i can hope to give to my Lord.

Reaper, let your work be my gift.

Numb, as i do not exist

how sad this is, to ask yourself
"why am i not sad at all, as i should be"
you know you are broken, constantly imploding
emotion cased in ice, burning every layer

how sad this is to force yourself to cry, and then...

- nothing -

drawn, hooked and fished to the surface again,
knowing of the full perversion of this impulse
when tears roll as cold marbles, without a sorrow to justify

how sad this is, to find this man,
filled to his full with latent potential
conform and curb to dreams of others
and know it at the same time.

cold cold wind overcoming intense heat
As i lay watching the herding of cloud bursts
the only moment where my mind dissolves
where i need not plot the dimensions of my smile.

First Haiku

Midnight Moon
Oh, my jealous heart
wishes to become