what is life, if not colored by a little fantasy? I shall rather fly away on the wings of my imagination, than wither slowly by dripping sands of time. is there anything more painful, than dying by grinding of the mundane? let them ridicule me, for my feet not being grounded; will the bean counters ever comprehend, ecstasy of riding the winged horses, and flying away?
Conditioned by heartbreaks such, that I now look at praise askane; if you find me aloof and distant, know it’s not me, but the fear of rejection raising its ugly head; I now fear the light that hides the truth, and embraced darkness unpretentious; darkness that glitter with false light, where hopes are drowned in promises of elixir of life, and love is traded and exchanged in flesh markets; Oh ye all with high hopes of a bright future in your hearts, enter here at your own risk, for here hopes come to die, and heartbreaks reign supreme.
Originally posted on Biff Sock Pow:
This came to my attention courtesy of a reblog by Pete Johnson at https://beetleypete.com/2020/09/06/my-first-post-using-the-new-block-editor and I am sharing this from Biff Sock Pow as today saw us getting a closer to the moment we will have to accept Classic block as the only option to the new block editor… At least there is still most […]
beware ye all who enter here, words lie around here, not to soothe thy heart.
here desires are stocked, and hunger reigns, quench your thirst at leisure, when the liquor flows.
open thy mind, let the exhilaration course through thy veins, feel the exquisite pain, and see thy heart bleed.
immerse thee in the beauty but beware of the thorns, thou will be challenged, may sometimes be titillated, words may sometimes bite, but they will not curse, they will prick, and they may poke, but they will never incite.
violence is abhorred here, and love dispensed freely, so take what you like, who knows what tomorrow brings, the glaciers recede, and the river dies.
the price of indulging incitation, paid by our silence to timely confront. remember kristallnacht? failure of the world at large to stand up to a bully, paid by bloods of millions of innocents, and two atom bombs.
the world will never be the same again, never again, we say and then we keep mum, when silence serves our purpose.
countless millions on the street, the world lumbers from crisis to crisis, many, a paycheck away from being on the street, and our silence may put many out there soon. one flash and boom it goes, years of dreams down the drain.
the hearth has been stocked, the fuel supplied, a word evil, spoken from a distance safe, enough to spark the fire of hatred. as Rome burns, fiddles Nero. and those who indulge and condone, won’t even have the rights to remain silent, when they come for them.
The most profound ideas of the day come to mind in the toilet because they are worthy of being flushed out of the system at the earliest.
Why does the sands of time drips so slowly, and then the hourglass turns? Why can’t time remain at standstill as we mourn the scores that departed to the unknown shores? do you hear the blood curdling howls of the hyenas circling, to rip the coffins before the bodies are cold? the vampires do not dread the light anymore, ready to suck the blood as life goes out. as we mourn, somewhere else a life mortgaged to luxuries while living, slowly ebbs, and street dogs stand in guard of honour for the one who has no home. the sands of time drips ever so slowly, and the hourglass turns, as we mourn.
I came looking for a place to write upon your skin,But it was far too gentle.To hold the weight of my words. I bought a sheet instead. I went hunting for words in your precious smile,But it hid pain far too vicious.For me to even tame. I bought a dictionary instead. When I finally came […]
Dear Word Press, Your new editor is a fecking disgrace. Talk about reinventing the wheel! The poem I published a few minutes ago had to be copied and pasted, stanza by stanza, each one in its own private little box, because we have travelled back in time to when copy and paste didn’t exist and […]