Lover, you are so sad

To love with all your heart is easier done than said. It sounds the most valuable thing yet, who can define it? The pathetic situation of everyone doing it to everyone is a arm bender when spoken about. To value a life, to respect a life is no bewilderment. It comes with ease, it comes without awareness. You believe its' the real thing when its' just a time you let down the rest of the world and your sanctuary is setting your eyes on this beauty, hearing this beauty or feeling this beauty. Hurrah! you are in love?

Beauty is admired by them all. The pretty faces, the famished lips, the flowing hair, the skin so fair and the walk so light you will put up with any fight. To see deep in where the Satan of it all lie low, till you murmur the best out of them is a sight you wish you saw way damn before. A reflection to your inner is your face they say; and I sit and laugh with all who consider it and seeks a refuge now that they are nothing but wounded and grasping for a clear breath of air. I shall not help. I shall not be the saviour. No one is, but your loser self.

Beauty is a horror that unleashes the many other horrors that you will cultivate as long as you believe in it and bleed with it, ignorantly.

When death calls

A call we never await for. The spontaneous bewilderment is much more than a human mind can take. The beauty of it rises when hope acumulates invisibly. The sudden laughs, the sudden smiles that dawn amidst the clouded wails and mourns is almost a miracle. Death doesn't like it, it simply wants to root down in the hearts and grow pain. Thrust down the angels of cherishing moments, jubilations of a life time and a future to come. Love will not die, nor will its' life. A life has acheived too much, seen too much and heard too much to let it all go with the a gasp that would be your last or a blink that would be your last. You live with those you shared, with those you loved and those you cared for. An eternal journey it is, an immortal one.

The dogs that shun when death calls will shun for life. Never do you want to see them or else you will wipe them. The dust that clouds a shimmering wand, you will wipe them off.

Death will call, and the dear will not depart. You live, you live, you live with the ticking time in our hearts you live.

For my best bud, Chanuka.

A measure of grief

Small and wimpy you are now. Wounded and dieing. Angered to the core at that cunt of a world that showed no sympathy, but hammered you down till you met the devil living in the depths of hades. Broken with the fall you will not stand up. You can't stand up. All you do is curl up, hoping you'll die fast. A swarming army of memories charge at you striking you with all the deeds that deceived you. The memory of a love that was not love, the memory of care that was not care, the memory of joy that was not joy but his sheer abundant self pleasure. You were an entertainer. A puppet with too long the strings who didn't see what dangled you up from there, cos' he was just too darn up high!

The measure of the wasted few years, lost priorities, bruised emotions, a life no longer fit to live and a face of shame that can not be mended tops off your grief.

Then a ray of light will be shead on you. The warmth makes you seek for it making you crawl out of your misery. You simply need more. More of that shimmer so beautiful, so resurrecting. Its' called a 'new day'. Get up, stand up, walk up and spew the mangy cunt with a flash of life. It will burn, it will melt at your comeback.

How simple the most important things in life. We show a blind eye, maybe laugh at them too and then rush over to the insignificant and try make life out of them.
Meet the simple. The shut down lights. The diamonds in the rough. With them, the measure of grief will sum down to none.

Worlds apart

Delusions of social status is the scream raving through the universe for decades now. A plague, incurable and swift as the wind never to be caught, but spread. A human can be labeled on what one wears? on what one labours for? on what one eats? on what one shits?!

We live in a world of mutualism. Each of us live on each other. Yet, we dare talk about social status? A farmer in the village will harvest the food on your plate tonight and you dare think living in a city of sky scrapers set you apart from all who fight the sun and rain to live its' life? Come to think of it, maybe it does! They are the real high rangers. The fighters of a modern day legacy. While you are the self damned king resting under the wings of the poorly battered legends, who are forgotten cos' your gleaming light of selfish survival is too bright. The souls will weep at the sight of your celebration on life, where you harp about the adventures of taking refuge. And the world; hypnotized by you who are adorned in a marvel of self obsession; listens, applauds and will sing songs of praise. In their eyes you are a living ecstasy, in mine you're a living defeat.

The unsung will always look down on you; from a place way up high, from a place worlds apart.

Shades of a Damn

Ever felt tired of people attempting to tread on you? The need to flee away from all those whimsy faces that glare onto your face screaming at the top of their lungs 'GIVE A DAMN ABOUT WHAT I HAVE TO SAY'?.

Its an echo never to cease. Get use to it.

Convincing persons is simply a deed of justification, yet whether the person will be convinced or not is something each of us should learn to accept. Humans being the species with the most unique individuals, we will always hear several opinions about the same condition, which is fruitful really! It shows the diverse defining of ideas, expressing many perspectives and avenues that can be explored.

Make yourself heard, but listen to the others as well. It might reinforce your opinion or argue your opinion. Accept it as it is and show the world what you're made out of.

Different perceptions will keep coming forever. Deal with it.

Green Blaze

The heat is on! Forever it seems....

Green eyed monsters we all are. It's only natural to long for something or someone, that the last person on earth you want to be with owns. What is not natural is the intention of expressing jealousy, and still think it is only right to get away with it. One believes in suppressing certain emotions and opinions in life. AND no! This has nothing to do with being a genuine person and thus, 'I- say- it -as- it -is' situation. That is simply justifying yourself as a rightful bitch. Justify this: What wonders will it work to the world to know of your oozing juices of jealousy?

For starters, it sure makes you look amazingly horrid and self-obsessed. The whispers of despise and wrath that comes your way from the wagging tongues surrounding you will be countless. A fig you need to give, coz' it simply shreds that Dignity of yours, which made you look so pretty all this time. The number of venomous words that will snipe out from your mouth into your victim will definitely cause fatal emotional distress or.......who knows; maybe just the right amount of anger to boil them up enough to get a punch or two land on you! The steady ones will simply ignore you, watching you drown in your own pool of blood.

It's no piece of cake having it all bottled up. True! Yet it doesn't make things any better spitting out your attitude around, to show you deserved what you couldn't have; after all that's what jealousy is all about. A fire can stay inside; it will crawl up the walls burning every inch into ashes; yet die down. So why spread it at all?

The fake-mpire

Meeting the most wonderful people in life is a breathtaking experiance. The amount of love and care you're immediately surrounded with everytime they walk into your life is mind-blowing. You're never down for a second cos' all that matters to you is that 'Wonderful One'.

Suddenly dimness starts growing really fast, and all you can see is a bolt of evil light piercing right through your heart. It diminishes all that love and care you depended on so badly. The source of light seem to know its' way spot on to where it hurts the most in you. A blur it might be, but the face of the 'Wonderful One' which is not so wonderful, is something you will never forget. A shape-shifter! Gruesome as ever it is upon you. Mercy is far far away, and all you can feel is the happiness in you trinkle its' way out of your soul to leave you feeling horrid as ever. A life sucker!

You do revive. That's the beauty of courage. Yet to meet the 'Wonderful One' again, in all its' glory. Was it a dream or did the 'Wonderful One' suck the living day lights out of you not too long ago?? The charm is too hard to resist and the flourishing intensity is more than what you would ever want to put away. You take it all; along with the 'Wonderful One'.....All over again.

Painful yet how we end up with it is a mystery; and we never cease to fuel it with compassion, cos' we love it just darn too much.