A beautiful time, the slightest breeze
We yearn to be more than lost
Your charm so delightful, alluring
Warm to my every thought
The beauty of life's song
Sings so sweet in our minds
On occasion our souls will play
Among the ruins within our hearts
Delighted in everyday life
Intimately peaceful with every breath
How beautiful it can be:
see your grandfather still so deeply in love with your grandma after she's gone.
How beautiful it can be:
Hear their love story all over again,
About how they've met,
how they found trust,
How they fall in love,
How did they deal with all problems around them.
How beautiful it can be:
Hear how he tells us about how much he loves her,
how much he cared for her.
He said:"She's gone but her pure soul is still with me"
He said:i saw her....she's waiting for me...she's waving at me....She wants me there with her..."
the last thing he said was:
I can't live without her,
I HAVE TO GO!
To see her blog, adorned with pastel tones
Widens the gap that pervades my bones
For now we eat her passing meal of plain white rice
Leaving us all alone, without much needed fashion advice
The red light district has lost an inductee
For I would have love to be involved in her naked party
Yet for now we must all be content
With the debauched path she hath went.
Sadness invades a binary world
Where tweeters and bloggers hearts have curled
Bringing back memories of Madonna’s ‘Like A Virgin’
Her fashion advice precise like a mastoplexic surgeon
I remember the fervour when you were followed by Kath Kidston
A similar experience when I had my first Jar of Branston
Yet when you found out the intensity with which I was following you
You wanted to change species and become a Gnu
You learnt to accept my frequent outpourings of love
When you finally spoke to me, I felt as free as a pure white dove
But upon your departure I feel pathetic and hollowed
The best I can hope for is the number of one of the hot bloggers you followed
She was always my muse, my intimate inspiration
No-one can cause such an outpouring of personal perspiration
My heart now yearns to see her type a special tweet
One that would make Mr Sexton act like a dog on heat
Now the world mourns the passing of Lily Fulvio-Mason
I can still see her face reflected in my wash basin
With every heart beat, every full blooded pulse
My sadness streaked blood makes my body convulse
But now it’s time to go, my heart says goodbye
The pain eats my nipples like the Syrphid Fly
I can finally see your body laid in an eternal rest
And now I can now finally uncover your breast.
Reality is lost and I fear…
That someday…somewhere so near…
I will fall amongst the people so dear…
I fear…that I’ll just be another one…
Another one lost…
I wonder what the cost of my life is
not to get too political…
But I want to know what the cost of my life is
Is it money…is it land
I do not own any of them…I’m just a simple man
I remember…When I ran across your land…
I remember when I kissed my grandmother’s hands…
But you ripped my away from her…From my home
you ripped my away from my heart…you ripped me away from my soul
I feel helpless…I feel low…
It’s hard to play along when I know…I have no role
I have become a slave.
After all the love I gave.
When I look at my country…people I want to save
When I look around me…people I need to change
It seems like a hard thing to do…
when the range of people is way bigger than you
Freedom…oh how much I’ve heard that word
Freedom…oh how this idea has become absurd
when God gave us life…
He warned us only he can take our lives…
Oh Syria…my home
Oh Syria…my all
Oh Syria…what did they hurt you for?
Oh Syria…I’m here…I won’t let them hurt you anymore…
I am Proud to be your son…
Sometimes I am glued to the Earth
See every tear,every laugh and every fist…
Sometimes my mind is flying above our world…
Hear every thought…
But even there I have no silence
In my mind the violence I’ve seen…
In my mind memories of heaven where I've been
But memories are past…
And even though they last
They can’t replace the smell of heavens grass
They cant replace every tear every laugh and every fist that there I’ve had
They’re just memories
I wish I was able to go back
and feel home…
princess in making
those precise green eyes
the colors of fall
completed with poise
your presence remains
reminiscing on those mornings-
you'd follow me round-
without a sound-
but with the unconditional
final breaths within my arms
death sure appears cruel
Rest in peace Belle. 16 years old <3 I love you.
Heart you are the destroyer
Heart you’re a killer
Why are you doing this to me?
Why don’t you do your functions?
Stop to interfere with my other organs?
You are making a festival of diseases to my body
While you are incurable
You’re exposing me to high blood pressure
It requires a hypothetically proven cardiologist to operate you
Every time when I see something of beauty you intrude my mind
You’re making wrong decisions for me
You’re purpose is to pump blood and
Is to remove the waste products that I don’t need
Not to see outcomes of a decision before you commit them
Now I am friendless because of your companion jealousy
People asks themselves what can pass through me without an attempt
My friends think that I am a copy cat because of you
A stone is sufficient to be your replacement if you were not my life support
Heart Stop intrusions and let my mind make decisions for me
A knife in the pen
Dispensing blood's inks
A shroud of mind
In each cell thinks
The sentence is endless
Each thought is perturbed
The notion of freedom
Becomes more disturbed
Fire the match to the torch to the castle
Instead use a cap, a gown, and a tassel
Such children's toys
Deserve to be broken
They are tools of destruction
Like words never spoken
That waged war with a fire ball
The thunder claps
The rain smiles
Walking down down memory lane
To those beautiful avenue
Young and beautiful was I,
Free to be me.
Those humble memories I hold with nostalgia
I cherish them more than life
Not long ago,I celebrated my victory
My world nose-dived
I was indeed happy,so glad I made it through
But!...My joy starts to crash
In my very eyes
I must survive,but how would I?
Troubles and confusion the path I only know
Listen,I'm a survivour
I told myself and forged ahead
Burying all hindrances behind,let's go.
Time and time again
I look with tears in my eyes
At the recent happenings
And is as if God is gone
Everything seems black
But,can I still hold on?
My heart is broken
Down and completely out
Well I hoe, hope would arrive soon
And this horrendous nightmare would be over
Only to find out I've been dreaming.
To make a new experience,
once I thought to walk down my home,
from Esplanade to Tollygaunge…..
I crossed the Chowrungee
& walked down the foot of the Grand,
I saw an oldman to his daily daydreams',
eyes to the heaven - and hands to the earth,
leaning there to the marble pillar beside the Bata-showroom.
I crossed him and hundreds passed by,
thousands looked at him
and rest, running to the new market's new brand.
Little further I went…
infront of the Indian Museum,
there I saw a woman, with her child in the warmth of her arms,
sitting there crying for her life and praying for her child,
but, none looked down to the present,
rather, eager to know the legends,
and hundreds came out by the history;
rest were still in the museum,
in the future through the time machine.
I went on, walking down by the foot,
crossed the road and further a two minutes of walk,
as I headed to the Victoria Memorial Hall-
the beautiful marble palace and its calm surrounding,
there the couples making their day, and ,
one making a sketch of that beautiful marble architecture,
but, none could make a sketch of that little baby's heart…
who's clothings were only his naked body,
crying for little shelter and thirst for mother's breast milk.
He was born to make a new life,
and he's lying there for someone could sketch his lost life.
I realized then ,
what I thought of an experience to walk down to my home,
from Esplanade to Tollygaunge,
is an experience to make a sketch….
of the real life,