***
I'm an old sod
my life runs on no chord
I have no money in my pocket
had to sell my grandpa's locket
I only have a few wants
but who's to listen without a taunt
I have no one by my side.
Just memories that have died.
***
Down came the rains
Over the swelling sea first;
Then lashing out inwards.
Down came the rains
It tasted of old memories
Big drops of pain
I saw time trickling,
Back to when we had dreams
It rained without a break
For two days and three nights
With houses adrift, kids on holiday
It rained without a break
The city stood still
Blessed with time to think
Time to take stock
And then it rained.
The world needs more peace keepers today. More than any other time in history, we need them now and in a hurry. These are people who by definition would ensure peace in our world. Day to day, protecting towns, cities and nations wherever trouble strikes. And since nothing ever came cheap, this elite force would be paid handsomely.
The question then is of organisations that are supposed to do precisely this job. Let us begin with the police force. A negative word to begin with. Policing in everyday terminology means to restrict and curb human beings. Is it them whom we want to look towards in times of trouble?
Human beings are masters of fo
There was a fire in the loft. Sometime at midnight and now I stand, ankle deep in soot. This fire took away everything. My first football trophy, expensive china, pots pans, worse still, the memories.
"I never missed this house my grandfather built so much," I thought, "Now I can't get enough of it." The soot covered walls, a sloppy burnt sofa or the last remnants of an old curtain, gifted by a distant aunt in Srilanka.
No.
An era is washed away, and I am supposed to stay calm. I am insured.
***
I'm an old sod
my life runs on no chord
I have no money in my pocket
had to sell my grandpa's locket
I only have a few wants
but who's to listen without a taunt
I have no one by my side.
Just memories that have died.
***
SLOTH
I'm the lazy one. The 'josh' just isn't there. Hey hang on a minute. Before you go and crucify me for being brutally honest, tell me, "Who really is with josh" Oh ok, there are millions out there. Ouch! That nail hurt. Reality really bites hard. Ok forget the crucifying bit then at least till I give you my explanation.
Let's begin with me. Why am I lazy? Because, there is good in it.
Research proves that if you are in a relaxed position then your blood circulation becomes sluggish and thereby you have less risks of having a stroke. Dying young was never my 'cuppa'. I had planned this a long time ago, I was a smart kid.
It's differe
U N ME
I've been thinking. About life, likes, dislikes the works. Thinking makes me feel alive. So now that I'm alive and kicking let me get straight into the heart of the matter.
There are two of us, a guy (me); and a girl (you).
The scene
(This is your chance to learn much, so pay attention.)
Like I said or was saying…
It's a bare room. So lifeless that it frightens you. There is a dirty French window, the only source of sunlight besides which you are standing and looking outside.
Thinking, feeling alive!
That I'm watching from the bed, you have no clue. I don't know what's going on in your head. A mosquito hovering around pricks m
*Defeat*
He's a defeated man
He's defeated even before he started
Cause he was too afraid of losing
Too afraid of what people would say
Too afraid to try
He's a defeated man
For he never gave himself a chance
Luck never came in the reckoning
All skills so completely wasted
Waste. Yes that's what it is
A complete failure
And it could have been otherwise
If only…if only had he stood up
Stared at adversary and defeat, both with courage
That would have been his finest hour.
END
Everything that hath gone wrong, mayeth go wrong again
True to every foe, treacherous to the core
A land where beauty smiles, capier still ups the hilt
No two languages are the same but the language of primal beats
Hold together a bunch of wild Samaritans
Quite unexpected a deal, still waters do run deep
Hold your breath, a purple fire on the pyre
May we be blessed, with shadows that blaze the heap
What no man or woman dare, getting started to bare
O' lord, tis heaven about this?
Another place that sorrow can miss
Too late, too late my morals are flaying
A night to speak, and wake up the dying
A love for the fores
I am Ugly
I don't own the clothes that I wear
I am Johnny West
I own my dreams
I am the fall guy
I make choices that I regret
I am just another face in the crowd
I fret regardless
I am a madman
I have the world at my feet
I am someone you'd call a friend
I am a good actor
I've yet to discover me
I am a Bird
I make fried eggs when I get hungry
I am a mess
I am my world
I'd like to gallop like a horse
I burn my favourite Cd's
I am for a better word – you
I make people cry
I've no tears of my own
I make great headlines, pastas and butterflies, not necessarily in that order
I am God
I am the reflection o
*ALIVE AGAIN*
Bat your eyelids open as your hand moves all over the window, smearing human jello on the broken glass. A little pain wouldn't be a big deal; in fact it would be a perfect anecdote to remind me of the hurt that I gave her. But as blood oozes out endlessly, the shavings of glass embedded deep into my palms making rivulets of tissue drawing bloodstream I not kicked. It's not my kind of fun.
Conversely, a world that is devoid of pain and rawness is a world I most abhor. There is nothing in it that resembles life for me. Taut smile oozes from a faceless face and the soft manicured hand held flaccid lacks the pulse of reality.
If
Foreword
The book itself may take years to finish, countless times I may doubt my abilities and shove the project out of my sight, but I promise to come back. Each time I feel disgust rising about me I shall remember that I'm no competition but to myself alone. Like any first time writer, I may stumble along the dark recesses of my mind exposing several human frailties I never would have guessed in the perfect world. I am willing to seek confidence from such scary revelations and move on. I realise that the struggle may not quite end up with results it merits, maybe the book will be snuffed between the "Art of Constructive Re-surgery". There
After life and before death, a strange place to be really, this place that we call Limbo. Stuck in the moment that stretches like those crazy Mexicans who do nothing but dream of getting across the border. Who am I? I'm the guy who gave this over populated world - Contraception, whoa! Yeah that's me but then according to code of conduct that the stupid fucking church runs by that's a felony (how about adding another l, a & tio?) A sin that is liable to get you busted.
So then what is it like staying in this godforsaken often slime coated excreta filled oblivion? Is it just another prophetic statement gone wrong with a world that is so full
I take the train
From working days to a holiday
In the summer, when I'm wet
I take the train
It's crowded, it's messy
But thank god for the train
It's fast as it's cheap
It's for everybody, but mostly it's for me
In rush hours when I go numb
Body bruises and verbal abuses
Jump in, pushed out
I take the train
Rubbing shoulders with the masses
Racing hard to catch a slow
Smelly armpits and sweat from noses
I love the train and the magic that it holds
It's just the same everyday. Lies. Living life of other's regret, trying very best not to fuck up.
Why does it have to be so hard to do what needs to be done? Why does it have to be so hard to keep on believing? Soon the thought will catch up. And soon it may be too late.
Well not certain if this updated look of dev page is permanent, but if it is; then i don't like it.
On the surface it looks nice, but something doesn't quite fit. Maybe i'm old fashioned or find change difficult, but that's me.
Honestly hoping, tomorrow things are back to old.
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