Monday, 1 August 2011

melismatic echos, linger in half empty thinking box
accentuated
then dissipated
by silence and somberness

around the clock
chasing the shadow
of ascetic life
impossible as it seems
but
nurture oneself
so shaytan's path may be as miserable can be made


Friday, 29 July 2011

IF

Rudyard Kipling

If

If

If you can keep your head when all about you

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

But make allowance for their doubting too;

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,

Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,

And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;

If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;

If you can meet with triumph and disaster

And treat those two imposters just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,

And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

And never breath a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on";

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch;

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;

If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

With sixty seconds' worth of distance run -

Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,

And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son!


***


I was never a fan of literature back then (2008 - earlier life) but never the less keen on knowing names of these aureate people, rudyard kipling was just one of the few. If I were to improve this piece of poetry, I would add these lines instead;


''Yours is the Heaven and everything that's in it,

from your God whom all rely upon.

And - which is more - better and everlasting, eternal in bliss!''

Monday, 25 July 2011

Wednesday, 20 July 2011

surface of my heart

This dearth surface
A super-continent with vast unexplored possibilities
What if; turned the motion to staticity
Buts; froze the ideas covering with sheets ice
Where's the elegance?
This whole act
Please drop
its frivolity as a reality is just to much to chew and swallow
Especially when failure is not in the multiple choice answers

I strive endlessly.

This surface....
...of my heart although never polished
will resiliently pave through this hurdle.

Wednesday, 13 July 2011

it's not how big your house, it's how big your heart is
their grueling life,
this weariness,

Sunday, 10 July 2011

Another evening walk

there it is
the frame; indefinite, defined by stereoscopic gaze
the apartment appears tired
seasoned, by the time that creep by
seconds turn into minutes
minutes turn into hours

a hand push, from the dark
pushed the door ajar
appeared angry, mystery

as four wheeled passer by drive away
we were sat on that bench
revisiting old broken bits of blurry memory
piecing together all the parts
never to our heart content

fishcake!!!!


Saturday, 9 July 2011

reckon it distaste

the chocolate I'm holding is melting away
just like dust
blown away by the soft breeze
in the mid-summer rain
just like a snap

in a blink of an eye
in a flap of hummingbird wings
in the heat of anger
the emotion was killed
by the loose, ricochet of hypethetical remarks

repelled by disgust
driven by lust
at losing one's trust
never a judgement can be just
verdict, clear and robust

hate. hate. hate
pity. sympathy. fool's own
statute in nature

apply it
as apt as it gets
balm for the sore heart
remedy for the silent sunlight
murky
sedated by senseless pessimism

care no more.

Friday, 8 July 2011

WHY


why are they the way they are?
stash of thoughts lingering
my empty box of contemplation
tumbling for exactitude
while I rummage through
a novel kink place itself at one corner
waiting to be picked up

why are they acting like silly bunny?

why do I have to ask such questions in the first plac3?

Thursday, 7 July 2011

at one end

this side is always empty
void of attention
lacks decoration

I will fill it with !"£$%^&*(??

so
how about it now?

Wednesday, 6 July 2011

foolish blind

blind;
stuck in the past
avid of petty thoughts
sinking deep
without wails

blind;
kept in darkness
the ebony of night
absence of guidance
deprived of infatuation
a fakeness

blind;
acid cloud that pour
poor indication of fine struggle
that follow the sorrow
heck with those sulk
ain't getting the world happier!

the catacomb

in the catacomb of melancholy
of grieve and sorrow
of dimness and mediocrity
that many souls wallow

I stumbled upon a light
I want to see
when it was least bright
what they want to be

where is their God?
the materials they dogged
consumed their pride
away from the END they always allude