Having Very Little Fun
There are those
Still wanting to play hide n' go seek!
With truth and reality...
As if in their aging days...
It is okay to sneak a peek!
Wanting to be chased...
Leaving behind excuses left as clues.
They may not know where they are,
Even though you do!
But choose not to!
Let them play...
These adults are the reason,
Most children are lost today!
Let them play!
They will never admit to what they've done.
Even though the rest of us are paying...
At a losing game,
And having very little fun!
Many can claim,
Those actions have brought them none!
With nothing that is gained to show...
Or to prove anyone can win,
When blinded eyes can not see,
What they have ignorantly begun!
There Are Many Who Have Left Behind This Activity
Can't you taste tomorrow's freshness?
Is it not apparent,
That which is stale.
Can no longer prevail on its present course.
And that beating a dead horse,
Will not revive a survival of that which has died.
And a flipping back through pages,
Seeking direction for which step to take.
Is not advantageous,
For those choosing to keep up with a forward pace.
Although some will continue,
With a beating of a horse done.
There are many who have left behind this activity.
With an acknowledgement that a past once lived.
Is clearly not meant for those living.
May Not Have Known Who They Are
Don't let what others whisper,
Control your destiny.
Many people without a life,
Have yours as their fantasy.
They imagine with your assistance,
What you do out of their sight.
And if it is not exciting enough...
It will be in their eyes.
And on their tongues day and night.
Don't let what others whisper,
Control your destiny.
Many people without a life,
Have yours as their fantasy.
And when they see you alone undeterred,
Dismissing them as if they don't exist.
This creates animosity instantly.
With your name and action on their lips...
As you are observed at quite a distance from it.
And may not have known who they are.
There Are Poems That Tear The Soul
There are poems that tear the soul
And leave us gasping for breath
They make us recall
Our losses in life
And our disappointments
They hurt us with their Beauty
And we do not know
What to do with them.
Like people we loved once
Who are far away
And like times in our life
Which were happy
And now are recalled in regret
There are poems that tear the soul
And leave us wondering
Why all this pain is life
And why there is
So much we will never know or have
Though we long for and would die for.
There Are Debts To Be Paid
There are debts to be paid
Which will never be paid-
Those I owe them to are gone
And in truth how could I ever repay
Were they still here?
You live and you owe-
You owe so much-
People have given you things
You can't pay them back-
You've hurt people whether you wanted to or not-
There are times you could have been there
And you were not-
You owe and you owe and you owe
And you die in debt also-
Because you never could be just right with all of the
And the ones you hurt without wanting to are gone-
It's a hard life on all continents
And it will be a hard death also.
You May Not Be Able to Feel My Pinch
My reality lived,
Is not yours to claim.
My insights are not like another.
Neither are yours.
But we both can agree...
However we are looking at reality,
There is little room to fantasize
The sting of its clarity.
You may not be able to feel my pinch,
As it is self inflicted.
But I am sure...
You have experienced a kick in the butt!
And that comes to us without description.
Or an invitation you solicit to kiss...
When the kicking of it has been missed!
I recommend as a hint...
Do not make neither of those actions,
An accepted routine.
You will just get stuck going nowhere...
Seeking an increase of volunteers.
And many will have their boots tied and ready.
Tempers are on the edge!
So I would step lightly.
There Are No Children Here
The untrained eye
Walks down the street
And sees children
But they're not children
There are no children here
Adults look back
With hungry eyes
And someone thinks
''They're just children
With a mother and a father
Never any fear''
And they kid themselves
As there are no mothers
Because there are no children here
Terror doesn't care
As they cry over there
It lets someone stare
Through the sight of a gun
And just for fun
People rush around crying
''But they were just children!
They were just children! ''
A man with a gun
Turns and runs
But as he does they hear
''They aren't children''
''They weren't children''
''You need to know:
There are no children here''
No one makes a sound
Listening to the truth he's found
And they know:
It's our fault
We didn't save them
We could have saved them
If we cared
There would be children here
Many Will Never Recover At All
Leave those alone who are comforted by their own beliefs.
Fragmented realities had at one time brought relief...
To the ones who pocketed funds from such divisions!
Choosing not to listen and making wrong decisions.
Those days are fading fast for them.
From all fronts their outlooks are crumbling within.
Soon those affected can not refuse the truth.
It will be there shared by all.
And those who run from it,
Need not be pursued!
For them there will be no exit!
Let them with limited time persist.
Sit back and watch their minds split to bits.
And feel blessed you were able to see it for what it was.
Some might be able to grow from it.
Many will never recover at all!
Since honesty for them,
Was something they felt could be put off!
And reality for them will be a wound to go exposed...
Never to heal.
Creating defeat and their downfall.
With minds sold on treasures gone...
A purpose to exist leaves them nothing left to feel.
But a ground for their hands and knees to crawl.
My life will never be normal
i live day by day,
wondering if i will ever be normal,
i realize that it is not possible,
every bit of part of me that was taken,
will never be given back,
it like i died everytime i was abused,
my world turned upside down,
i became use to living my life the same,
numb, confused and nobody to turn to,
nights were lonely,
and full of nightmares,
the only way i can excape was to fly,
fly away and never return,
now that i'm older,
just hot wiring a car in my dreams,
just so i can excape the pain and torture,
is a dream come true,
when the nights are suppose to be seen as good,
mine were awasys dark,
i regret even falling asleep,
but it what the body needs,
there are times i lay in bed,
just wondering how my life got this way,
tears run down my face,
anger rushes to the surface,
some selfish punk had their fun,
and left nothing but pain,
it wasn't even fun,
it what they call,
money will keep you quiet,
let me do what i want,
some selfish prick,
who deserve what they get in life,
i'm done blaming myself for what happened in the past,
what happened, happened,
it my life that i have to live now,
it just sucks when guys judge me,
for what happened in my past,
it just don't seem fair,
but it time to stop being the victim,
and start being the survivor!
There Are No Pockets In A Shroud
Money makes the world go round,
I wonder who said that,
It must have been a billionaire,
A grass roots spoiled brat.
They take their lead from politicians,
Do as I say Not as I do,
They write how to fiddle editions,
As more funds they must accrue.
The rich are really all the same,
Whether they act or if they sing,
They'll always preach to you and me,
Money isn't everything.
Don't you find it really strange,
It's actually quite funny,
That the very people who make this claim,
Have all got loads of money.
Now I'm not being flippant,
Nor am I being abrupt,
But cash along with power,
Really does corrupt.
They love their yachts and fancy cars,
But you must always be aware,
Though it's you and I who make them rich,
For us they just don't care.
As they live their lives of splendour,
They ignore the plight of others,
To sharing they'll never surrender,
Their self delusion and arrogance smothers.
These greedy people the world over,
Are so obsessed with amassing wealth,
As they strive to make their trillions,
They tend to ignore their health.
Before they know it's time to go,
They shout out, we need more time,
We've got loads of lovely dosh to spend,
To take us now would be a crime.
When they arrive at Heavens gate,
They all put on a frown,
No debit cards or hard fast cash,
Just a plain white gown.
God says, on Earth you were rich and famous,
You stood out in a crowd,
But you cannot take it with you,
‘'There Are No Pockets In A Shroud''
May not prove right
Sometimes what you think may not prove right
Instead of left you may chose wrong and go out of sight
You are adamant and sticking with wrong judgment
It lands you in maximum trouble with embarrassment
How can sea turn from blue to white?
How can you get any thing without putting up fight?
It has its own deep depth to make you wonder
The nature has its own secrets for all the time to ponder
The mango tree may not ripen its fruit of its own
You have your own tendency and are well-known
You want it to dropp in your mouth with no efforts
No one may provide you such blessings with comforts
Merely hoping may do no wonder
Rain may shower with heavy thunder
This all may take place in its own way
You can not hope it in leisure time and run away
Life is same as it was before
Your thinking is erroneous and is flawed therefore
It is ridiculous to think about reaching safely at shore
You are lost on the way and may reach no where
Any person is worth penniless unless tries very hard
He may fear before it begins with good starts
He may think of leaving it in between
And loose the hope of getting clear win
Life may seem dull and useless
You may be lost simply in race
There will be nothing more left to trace
It will be really delicate and bad phase
He may within himself generate dejection
Life may look worth for simple rejection
There is nerd for powerful thrust with injection
It may them improve altogether with some indication
Thank God, in day time the stars are not seen
Otherwise time will be spent sky and its scene
The moon will not surface and cool the mind
The wishes and desires may never be on hand to find
Well some hopes can be revived
It is only means to remain survived
Life hinges on the thin ray of hope
The show can never go flop
We are gifted with untiring energy and strength
It may loose some thing on way and not match wave length
Yet it has powerful beacon to trace the location
There is lot more to wait for happiness and elation
So loose no sight or blame the fate
We are to be blamed for if anything comes late
Either we have failed to realize the situation
Or failed to match with it and had no continuation
There Are No Returns
As children, we shared each other’s games,
and grew up thinking we would never change.
At eighteen duty called to go to a far off place,
we said we’d always wait for each other,
no matter how long, we would have to wait.
The year turned into five, before I came home.
Things had changed, someone else you had found,
while my life was moulded to, and I saw a different you.
The carefree life we both had,
disappeared as the years came round,
our goals were now different bound,
and too many things had passed before our eyes.
I smiled sweetly when I saw you;
your smile back was just as sweet.
He stood at your arm to let the world know,
you were spoken for, not free anymore.
I just nodded as I passed on by,
and you could not see the tears leak from my eyes.
War is not a beautiful thing,
with heroes in a Hollywood show.
It makes men age each day,
their eyes will testify, how I know.
The youthful zest no longer smiles,
only the old man’s sorrowing soul.
They come back a broken person,
whose lives have been altered so.
They come home only to find,
the old life has been robbed as well,
that old torches they used to carry,
are gone from them as well.
I moved on hoping never to return,
saying I’ll keep in touch, but will never do.
Like a nomad, I begin my endless trek,
as I want to get away from here and you.
More years pass on the way;
I find someone and settle down.
Then comes a letter to say you are free,
will I come and see,
but I look around at all I’ve got,
my life that on a solid rock stands,
but the calling is so great,
I have to go back to where I’ve been.
At the station, I see your face,
time has hurt you so,
worse that the war hurt me,
but I just had to know.
I smile, but it is only a courtesy call,
I’ve got a new life elsewhere.
We talk about the old times,
long before I went away.
You know it’s not the same between us,
that soon I’ll be on my way.
You’ve been hurt the way I was once,
but you also know, that I can’t stay.
The day goes on and we reminisce,
we smile and laugh about the days we miss.
Soon the train is in the station;
our hands linger to the touch.
I have a new life now; we will never be the same.
She stands there with our son,
with open beckoning arms;
we rush to meet each other,
our bodies held in an embrace.
She asks how things went;
I smile and simply say, there are no returns.
There Are Demons that Torment All of Us
There are demons that torment all of us. Our past struggles in coming to ourselves where our acts reflect are pain and not our core. Such demons are thought compulsions, which have become an unwelcome tradition in us. They are the ultimate distraction; they have nothing to do with anything. Just think of the ways in which the past echoes through the media during presidential campaigns. Things said and done in the candidates past that have nothing to do with anything relevant are constantly being played. The negative slander of the opposition with a portion of their past truth gets more time, money and energy than defining who one is and what one stands for. Such adds, are disinformation, they have nothing to do with the issues, and who would be best suited to be president.
A significant portion of our mind generates negative rhetoric like the negative presidential campaign adds; it spins gross distortions against itself and for its self. Even more lethal in countless ways is the positive adds that are also distortions. In both cases the mind lies to itself. Our enemies, meaning those who are jealous, envious of us or those who are threaten by us, or those who are addicted to manipulating people, will take advantage of the rhetoric we except. Such parricides will play on your vanities and exploit your weakness. The artful ones will do both.
Superficially the parasites sharaid themselves as a friend, as a stable alliance, as someone you trust, confide in, as a wife. They will appear to be your most genuine supporter who defends you from the negative distortions from your self and from others. But they are not there to support you, all they know is betrayal, for the ones who they are closest too betrayed them. Many times they have identified with the parent or parents or person who betrayed them. As a defense they will not admit how hurt they are and how awful their childhood and life is. They were brought up in a world in which there was the appearance of love, but not real love. They perpetuate this illusion and people who could potentially really love them get caught up in the gravity of their illusions, in their atmosphere; it is a planet of denial and deception where not real caring grows but contempt, where no real love can grow. Where potential love withers and fades unless freeing itself from this insidious sneer.
Such people, cannot really help you, they cannot even help them selves. They can not give to you what they themselves to not have, love, genuine compassion, sincerity.
For What They Will Never Have
Tongues may put us under
for crimes we did not commit.
The words normally come
from those who are jealous
at what they cannot achieve,
and for what they will never have.
There Are The Poems That Are Not The Real Poems
There are the poems that are not the real poems,
And the poems that are-
And the poems that are seem to come out of their own saying
With a rhythm and a meaning which makes a music so deep,
Even the most lonely soul feels them as a singing inside.
There Are So Many Ways Of Loving
you know that.
you lovely woman, you know what love is.
you know much better than me
for i am a bitter man
the one who loved so well and yet lost
that love and never found it again.
there are so many ways of loving
you know that
and i will not tell you anymore
i have loved you once
and i think that was all enough.
There Are People
There are people who are good
there are people who are bad
there are people who are rich
there are people who are poor
there are people who are happy
there are people who are sad
there are those who encourage
and those who discourage.
I’m a little bit of them,
though some may dispute that claim.
The fact that all of us
are just about the same.
Some might be a little more
of one thing than another
from the list above.
Somewhere along the line,
we all fall in a category
like it or not,
it is because we are
just human after all.
30 January 2008
There Are Not Too Many People
There are not too many,
Who can leave hurdles leaped.
That others seek,
To reach and stir someone within.
With a tone that is expressed,
From an honestness.
And that's how those protective walls,
Come to be shakened.
To break and awaken.
There are not too many...
Who can express,
An experience they possess.
Not one that affects,
A comprehension that connects.
There are not too many,
Who can say they have lived.
And this is believed.
From an understanding given and perceived.
There are not too many people,
Unafraid to 'be'.
Without their hearts,
Left to bleed on their sleeves...
There Are Those Exceptions
Many have spent lifetimes,
Doing their best...
To manipulate the presence of truth.
And yet there is not one shred of proof,
That a doing of this has led them to success.
There are those exceptions!
Millions of dollars are spent,
In the celebrating of holidays created...
To allow the threats of terrorists,
Opportunities to rest...
As everyone is welcomed to join the festivities.
Where are the terrorists? '
They are no threat to us on holidays.
Or on weekends.
Just Monday through Friday.
See them checking their watches?
It is almost that time,
For them to begin their threats.~
Some May Not Like What They See
With a pinch of anguish.
Seems to always provide,
The correct antidote...
For those arriving from their excursions,
Through the land of intoxicating delusion.
There is no debating about the tour taken.
An awakening comes without question.
Maybe the presence of fear might be there.
Since the shock of seeing things as they are...
Needs little explanation!
Some may not like what they see.
But all agree...
Has them all looking at it for what it is!
Even though what it is has been there.
Only a few recognized and knew its power!
Knowing from the very beginning...
An acceptance of shallow fantasies,
Ultimately has its consequences.
There Are No Minutes Kept Backed Up
There are no minutes kept backed up,
To put aside to decide to live them.
There are no minutes that can be stored as such,
For one to decide life is worth living.
There are no minutes kept backed up.
None one can say they have wrapped up.
There is no one on Earth with that much luck...
To decide when their life is worth the living.
People think they should be shown some proof,
That a life they live is worth the living.
While they isolate themselves locked up in coops,
To decide that a life they live is worth the living.
While awaiting for someone to approve what they do,
That a life given to them is worth the living.
With a choosing of every move...
Excusing some choices while others are removed.
To clarify that a life they live is worth the living.