Flower Plucker

•July 7, 2015 • 1 Comment

There you are

A new Flower in The Garden

To pluck or not to pluck?

I wonder

You smell so good

You look so good

I want to pluck you so bad

I ponder

If I pluck you once

Can I pluck you again?

I would pluck you all day if I could

(image credits: http://free-wallpaper.at-web.org/)

City Lights

•May 7, 2015 • 2 Comments

I still remember that day

When I held you close

Looking at the city lights

We were content

We were happy

We were in love

But I knew at that moment

That you will go away

One day

Just like everyone else

And as I predicted

Now it is just me today

Standing alone

Looking at the city lights

I am content

I am happy

But I am not in love

(image credits: nightskyhunter.com)

Vuvuzela Vesak

•May 5, 2015 • 1 Comment

Blaring, their insane sound

Banned at games, yet still legal

On the streets, round and round

The vuvuzelas scream, brutal

My ears, my tender ears

Why must we endure

This insanity grinds my gears

On a day meant to be pure

A day that He the most revered

Was born, enlightened and passed away

Has been by noise, desecrated

Become a carnival of irreverent play

He taught us to be humble, not proud

He taught us to be mindful, not careless

But instead we have become so loud

On His special day, so heedless

Blaring loud-speakers, comical masks

Screaming vuvuzelas, roadside fights

“Is this truly the Vesak spirit?” the Wise asks

Gone is the once beautiful festival of lights

(image credits: beyondholidaysrilanka.com)

You Lazy Fucker (explicit)

•May 3, 2015 • 1 Comment

“You Lazy Fucker”

“All you do is sleep”

“All you do is eat”

“Wasting time”

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Fuck you”

“You Lazy Fucker”

“All you do is waste your life”

“All you do is nothing”

“Go fuck yourself”

“You lazy piece of shit”

“Why don’t you just kill yourself?”

“You Lazy Fucker”

(image credits: hamsterdam415.wordpress.com)


•May 2, 2015 • Leave a Comment

Half asleep

Half thoughts from a half mind

Half written

Half sentences and half rhymes

Half awake

Half happy and Half sad

Half crazy

Half genius another Half mad

Half life

Half living with a half plan

Half truth

Half lies spoken to the Half man

Half me

Half her, half him

Half you

Half of all, Half everything

(image credits: wikimedia.org)


•May 1, 2015 • 1 Comment

Sometime ago, I was able to talk to someone who was involved in what could be called “black operations”, from a certain government operating in a certain country. This person was one of the most intelligent and powerful men I have met so far in my life. He was highly skilled in his profession and a well respected member of his organization.

After discussing in brief about some of his work, I asked him “Do you remember your first kill?”

“Yes I do”, he replied. “It was clean. Pistol. Double tap to the head.” he replied with what appeared to be a faint sense of nostalgia. “It was in a crowded place, in broad daylight. I shot him, and walked away. Didn’t even see the body fall. By the time everyone else figured out what was going on, I was out of the scene with my team.”

“Who was he?”

He frowned slightly, pausing to gather the words to explain why he did what he did.

“The man I shot was part of a group of men who kidnapped a woman, brutally assaulted and gang-raped her before killing her in cold blood and leaving her body to rot. If he was tried in court he would have been set free due to his… connections” he smirked.

“So you felt that this person should not be allowed to live?”

“People like this, are a plague to society. They destroy everything. They have no conscience, no remorse. They are a threat to our country, our people, our children. They should be killed.”

The conviction this man spoke with was solid, and I could not really argue with what he said. But I had to ask one last question before we ended our conversation.

“How did it feel to kill a human being for the first time?”

He shrugged.

“He wasn’t human to me.”

(image credits: guyanachronicle.com)

Ceiling Fan

•April 30, 2015 • 2 Comments

Lying on my bed

Watching the ceiling fan

Motionless, still, dead

Is this part of the plan?

As I look into my past

Wondering if I ever learned

Anything, time moves fast

Spent more than I earned

And I ask my own mind

“How long more to destiny?”

And it replies back in kind

“You are here, you are free”

“Nothing truly belongs to me”

“Nothing is real, nothing”

“Even that which I see?”

“Yes, even the fan on the ceiling”

(Image credits: wikimedia.org)