Death has already defeated the living.
I’ve never heard a dead man say he wishes he could live a little…
|
Birds, Moses, and drunken men have all been found whilst looking trough the bushes
|
Some of the respected people ask me how we get pain when
Our soul is amar body destroyed into the ashes you make your stupid thoughts
I just asked are you dead or alive because three naama one is ashes second is your body which is sucking giving unnecessary demand of health third is death.so when you leave think are you alive after that how much will be the pain because since from birth it happens.
With love all
Aghori mhabharamnad
|
My dear friends you support me and I get your kindness like a family so I invited 10 members for Pooja in Karnataka badami taluk to karooo from there 5km you will find a riksha Hubli have it's own air port.......
I am willing for best wishes form your side
With love all
Aghori mhabharamnad
|
Majestic heralds in form of misty fog silently convey the roar of yearning mountains.
The eternal silence of sea giggling n tickling the feet, display the clamor of a child. Dancing rainbows over restless waves invite for ballad.
Silently pouring rain wipes off the tears n fears, silent mentor calls on the terrace to show how quietly it washes off what's not desired.
Dense forests, gorgeous moon, twinkling stars......silence speaks
|
"In every Legend in which Thoth takes a Prominent part, we see that it is he who speaks The Word that results in the wishes of Ra' being carried into effect. Then spoke Thoth to Ra', there came the instrument of Behudet in the form of a Great Winged-Disk, from this day forth he shall be called
Horbehudti (Horus Of Edfu" - Legend of the Winged Sun-Disk
|
Regarding time: "Some refer to time past, but time itself extinguishes the past. Only what is remembered is known to have existed." from the poem "Flying" by Max Burchett
|
Zafar tun paka powdri charsi nashai hai,
Mein nay tera shesha penay ka videos
daikha hai tun ice cocaine ganja ka
sab say bara elite class smuggler hai.
|
What impoverishes us in this epoch of great wonders is the ignorance of the masses that believe in optical illusions. True richness is the spiritual awareness which enriches us and makes us wise.
|
It seems that we are the fruits of a tree with millions of branches, but the actual seed is long gone, and whether there was a gardener vanishes in the realm of speculations.
|
When dreams become ashes
and ashes are blown by winds
Realities are born
|
Be real. Be true to yourself. Only you can heal your inner turmoil and slay your demons... Others can love and support you, even inspire you... But ultimately, you are the power in your life... Take care and best wishes.
|
Some brilliants minds have climbed the ladder so confident of reaching their goal: was it luck or merit? If one is born with everything, he accomplishes very little.
|
"People of different wishes , same prayers to God and living in the same cruel World"
By Alfonso Warally Ngengethe Mussabwa Chris
|
Take it to the bank...like gold, God's love never tarnishes....
|
Grief is a powerful force that pushes a man to relinquish his grip on reality.
|
That girl she is hell bent. That girl she is hell bent on reaching heaven. That girl she is a message of love rolled up in ash, smoking hot, she’s still glowing. Light bulb brain, like a genie...rub. 3 wishes - come, undone. Light and Dark is a mysterious thing. Light bulb brain, like a genie...rub. 3 wishes. That girl is hell bent.
|
That girl she is hell bent. That girl she is hell bent on reaching heaven. That girl she is a message of love rolled up in ash, smoking hot, she’s still glowing. Light bulb brain, like a genie...rub. 3 wishes - come, undone. Light and Dark is a mysterious thing. Light bulb brain, like a genie...rub. 3 wishes. That girl is hell bent.
|
Not every book has the musty bibliosmia. Not every book is worth treasuring. Not every book is worth leafing thru. Not every book embellishes the book room.
Dispose them off and close the doors. Write your book with complete grace.
|
I am all for cremation. Love it (the idea of it all)...cremation it is! ashes released to a breeze (not interred into some cavity of a wall, like a nagging, painful, loose filling); ashes released into a breeze, balmy, or freezing full of life, that carries it into the nostrils and bodies of the gorgeously unsuspecting, eventually infecting their minds in ways they are totally unaware of, yet magic still remains.
|
Zafar Sapari do you take drugs?
Ice, shesha, cocaine etc..
|
If wishes were kisses life would be bliss, everyone would be blessed with lucky lips.
|
The love between a mother and daughter is like nothing else in the world. It has no rules, it dares all things and crushes all that
stand in its way, and cannot be destroyed, even by death.
|
The rule of law is what distinguishes freedom from tyranny, peace from violence, happiness from sadness, hope from despair and comfort from worry. The rule of law is what makes a citizens enjoy their sleep
|
Breakdowns sometimes are the reasons to rise up from the ashes and shine.
|
What is life?
The flash of a firefly.
The breath of a winter buffalo.
The shadow scooting across the grass that vanishes with sunset.
—Blackfoot saying, translation by Michael R. Burch, keywords/tags: Native American, translation, life, nature
|
Christ, how I miss you!,
though your parting kiss is still warm on my lips.
Now the floor is not strewn with your stockings and slips
and the dishes are all stacked away.
You left me today...
and each word left unspoken now whispers regrets.
('Absence Makes...' by Michael R. Burch)
|
While you may not ignore me,
I’ll be ashes before you understand me.
—Mirza Ghalib, Urdu translation by Michael R. Burch
|
What would Santa Claus say,
I wonder,
about Jesus returning
to kill and plunder?
For he’ll likely return
on Christmas Day
to blow the bad
little boys away!
When He flashes like lightning
across the skies
and many a homosexual
dies,
when the harlots and heretics
are ripped asunder,
what will the Easter Bunny think,
I wonder?
('What Would Santa Claus Say?' by Michael R. Burch)
|
The pain of love is this:
the parting after the kiss;
the train steaming from the station
whistling abnegation;
each interstate’s bleak white bar
that vanishes under your car;
every hour and flower and friend
that cannot be saved in the end;
dear things of immeasurable cost ...
now all irretrievably lost.
(Michael R. Burch)
|