To be honest, I'm amazed at so many things!
With a little good, of all kinds of bad things,
But I want to be satisfied with only one:
Act like that weary traveler today,
That tired of the roads:
It stops and breaks
And he does not look up or down
And it does not look back -
He looks tired aimlessly
And he sees what is under his feet.
And I now
That inconvenient
Traveling in the thick forest of bad things
Broken-tired:
I'm resting, refreshing,
Like him, I wonder involuntarily and lazily,
That - like a bird - a man is frightened by the right word,
And never from a false promise shot.
Like the moon, he jumps from the sun
And it shines from the cold flame of the fire ...
How about you?
Are you like me?
Eh, er, you are surprised at me ... #review
With a little good, of all kinds of bad things,
But I want to be satisfied with only one:
Act like that weary traveler today,
That tired of the roads:
It stops and breaks
And he does not look up or down
And it does not look back -
He looks tired aimlessly
And he sees what is under his feet.
And I now
That inconvenient
Traveling in the thick forest of bad things
Broken-tired:
I'm resting, refreshing,
Like him, I wonder involuntarily and lazily,
That - like a bird - a man is frightened by the right word,
And never from a false promise shot.
Like the moon, he jumps from the sun
And it shines from the cold flame of the fire ...
How about you?
Are you like me?
Eh, er, you are surprised at me ... #review
In the case you feel alone
Just close your eyes and feel
You're in my arms
He whispers every time when I need him
No matter God takes me from you
But I'm alwys here for you..
In your dreams in your ups and downs
To the dusk and down
To the sun and moon
I'm here for you
He whispers everytime when I need him.
Lata garg
#review
Just close your eyes and feel
You're in my arms
He whispers every time when I need him
No matter God takes me from you
But I'm alwys here for you..
In your dreams in your ups and downs
To the dusk and down
To the sun and moon
I'm here for you
He whispers everytime when I need him.
Lata garg
#review
2050
#Abhijit #review
The soil is now a desert
The water is now a salty shallow sea
I had a home once at the coast
But now it is at the bottom of that shallow sea
Because it’s the year 2050
Now the tress are gone
Their roots remain laughing on our face for our stupidity
Now the air is black and we have a smog
Even breathing good air is now a commodity
Because it’s the year 2050
The humans are such that they stay in their virtual reality
In oblivious to its own anarchy
Humans are happy to be the cause of their own fatality
Because it’s the year 2050
Sometimes it’s hard to believe
The truth of the insanity
By which we are unaware
The mankind and humanity
Wake up, open your eyes
There is still time
Its December 2020
#Abhijit #review
The soil is now a desert
The water is now a salty shallow sea
I had a home once at the coast
But now it is at the bottom of that shallow sea
Because it’s the year 2050
Now the tress are gone
Their roots remain laughing on our face for our stupidity
Now the air is black and we have a smog
Even breathing good air is now a commodity
Because it’s the year 2050
The humans are such that they stay in their virtual reality
In oblivious to its own anarchy
Humans are happy to be the cause of their own fatality
Because it’s the year 2050
Sometimes it’s hard to believe
The truth of the insanity
By which we are unaware
The mankind and humanity
Wake up, open your eyes
There is still time
Its December 2020
#megha #review
Life with wings.
You called me a doll
Custom made beautifully.
With bright clothes to put
And matching accessories.
And i..
Being a silly girl
Accepted it like a
Child earning for chocolate.
Little did i know that
Those bright clothes
Wd smother me once, for
It wd tighten the grip
As my body grew
And the matching accessories
Was all chains to
Hold me at place
Tightly with your grip.
The golden tint
Was a bright curtain
To blind my eyes
To the birds of this world.
Today..
When i took the sword
To cut down the
Shining Iron rods,
My flesh was cut
With blood oozing fresh
I can feel the pain.
But the road to freedom
Is never easy..
And i painted it with
Bright blood
Like a red silk
Shiner than those
Painted gold.
Now its time to walk towards
That inner paradise
Which you locked
With ur keyless lock,
And i...
With those thousand cuts
Wd run towards that secret doir
Either to die
Or to take a glance
At that secret garden with
White Lilies and red roses...
Life with wings.
You called me a doll
Custom made beautifully.
With bright clothes to put
And matching accessories.
And i..
Being a silly girl
Accepted it like a
Child earning for chocolate.
Little did i know that
Those bright clothes
Wd smother me once, for
It wd tighten the grip
As my body grew
And the matching accessories
Was all chains to
Hold me at place
Tightly with your grip.
The golden tint
Was a bright curtain
To blind my eyes
To the birds of this world.
Today..
When i took the sword
To cut down the
Shining Iron rods,
My flesh was cut
With blood oozing fresh
I can feel the pain.
But the road to freedom
Is never easy..
And i painted it with
Bright blood
Like a red silk
Shiner than those
Painted gold.
Now its time to walk towards
That inner paradise
Which you locked
With ur keyless lock,
And i...
With those thousand cuts
Wd run towards that secret doir
Either to die
Or to take a glance
At that secret garden with
White Lilies and red roses...
Life with wings.
#megha #review
You called me a doll
Custom made beautifully.
With bright clothes to put
And matching accessories.
And I..
Being a silly girl
Accepted it like a
Child earning for chocolate.
Little did I know that
Those bright clothes
Would smother me once, for
It would tighten the grip
As my body grew
And the matching accessories
Was all chains to
Hold me at place
Tightly with your grip.
The golden tint
Was a bright curtain
To blind my eyes
To the birds of this world.
Today..
When I took the sword
To cut down the
Shining Iron rods,
My flesh was cut
With blood oozing fresh
I can feel the pain.
But the road to freedom
Is never easy..
And I painted it with
Bright blood
Like a red silk
Shiner than those
Painted gold.
Now its time to walk towards
That inner paradise
Which you locked
With your keyless lock,
And I...
With those thousand cuts
Wd run towards that secret doir
Either to die
Or to take a glance
At that secret garden with
White Lilies and red roses...
#megha #review
You called me a doll
Custom made beautifully.
With bright clothes to put
And matching accessories.
And I..
Being a silly girl
Accepted it like a
Child earning for chocolate.
Little did I know that
Those bright clothes
Would smother me once, for
It would tighten the grip
As my body grew
And the matching accessories
Was all chains to
Hold me at place
Tightly with your grip.
The golden tint
Was a bright curtain
To blind my eyes
To the birds of this world.
Today..
When I took the sword
To cut down the
Shining Iron rods,
My flesh was cut
With blood oozing fresh
I can feel the pain.
But the road to freedom
Is never easy..
And I painted it with
Bright blood
Like a red silk
Shiner than those
Painted gold.
Now its time to walk towards
That inner paradise
Which you locked
With your keyless lock,
And I...
With those thousand cuts
Wd run towards that secret doir
Either to die
Or to take a glance
At that secret garden with
White Lilies and red roses...
WRITER'S DAY-DREAM
A writer is like a lonely seeker
who wanders boundlessly while
his imagination runs wildly
in an endless search for creativity
As the sages, the writer takes refuge
from the turmoil of the outside world
plunging into his imagination
to gaze upon his own deep thoughts.
A writer goes beyond the wildest dreams
imagining into the remote caves on
windswept and mist-shrouded mountains
to let the hours and minutes dribble away without concern.
The routine of a writer is as lonely as
a snow leopard in its free-living on the rocky
outcrops and sheer cliffs, wandering
aimlessly among the dead ends.
Always unflagging, despite the barriers along
the way, giving up is never an option. All that
really counts is to keep on going to cross the
wilderness of the ideas and reach the desired paradise.
#review #LucianadeLemos #poetry
A writer is like a lonely seeker
who wanders boundlessly while
his imagination runs wildly
in an endless search for creativity
As the sages, the writer takes refuge
from the turmoil of the outside world
plunging into his imagination
to gaze upon his own deep thoughts.
A writer goes beyond the wildest dreams
imagining into the remote caves on
windswept and mist-shrouded mountains
to let the hours and minutes dribble away without concern.
The routine of a writer is as lonely as
a snow leopard in its free-living on the rocky
outcrops and sheer cliffs, wandering
aimlessly among the dead ends.
Always unflagging, despite the barriers along
the way, giving up is never an option. All that
really counts is to keep on going to cross the
wilderness of the ideas and reach the desired paradise.
#review #LucianadeLemos #poetry
Love..❤️
Are u the one who made my feelings grow..
When is see you I start to lose control..❤️
My heart starts beating faster..
When my love arises..❤️
Those feelings who are sleeping..
Open their eyes only for you..❤️
My heart saying..
To keep you always in front of me..❤️
Is it the love, everyone afraids of..
Or the love iam blessed of..❤️
#Trisha
#review
#poetry
Are u the one who made my feelings grow..
When is see you I start to lose control..❤️
My heart starts beating faster..
When my love arises..❤️
Those feelings who are sleeping..
Open their eyes only for you..❤️
My heart saying..
To keep you always in front of me..❤️
Is it the love, everyone afraids of..
Or the love iam blessed of..❤️
#Trisha
#review
#poetry
Gods of earth
#megha #review
The heavenly messenger
Descended the earth
Once a fine day.
He walked through the streets
Watching the earthly beauties..
At a distance, he heard
The cries of people to god.
Not one.. but many did he heard.
But the gods were different
Nothing like that of his
Superiors back in heaven.
He went with the crowd
And saw a man
Dressed like a hermit.
The crowd prayed to him..
Cried to him..
Asked for guidance
And followed him
Like a flock of sheep.
The messenger astonished
Called out for justice.
Only to get stamped
By a flock of stupid sheep.
He went back, reported the case.
The heavenly aboard
Descended to earth
To punish the swindlers.
The gods and goddesses
Weren’t covered with gold and silk
Skin not fair and no perfect features,
They were mere shadows
to the naked eyes,
With no genders nor caste.
The gods on earth and their loyal followers
Despised the heavenly powers
Calling swindlers.
They lost the war…
And went back like a
Defeated group of
Crazy barbarians.
Somewhere far away…
a poet wrote,
“oh, mighty gods...
U sat there idle
Enjoying the celestial luxuries…
U dint know
The ship of earth
Sinking with swindlers…
And now…
You are useless as gods,
In fact… not gods anymore
But a group of
Lunatic formless shadows.
#megha #review
The heavenly messenger
Descended the earth
Once a fine day.
He walked through the streets
Watching the earthly beauties..
At a distance, he heard
The cries of people to god.
Not one.. but many did he heard.
But the gods were different
Nothing like that of his
Superiors back in heaven.
He went with the crowd
And saw a man
Dressed like a hermit.
The crowd prayed to him..
Cried to him..
Asked for guidance
And followed him
Like a flock of sheep.
The messenger astonished
Called out for justice.
Only to get stamped
By a flock of stupid sheep.
He went back, reported the case.
The heavenly aboard
Descended to earth
To punish the swindlers.
The gods and goddesses
Weren’t covered with gold and silk
Skin not fair and no perfect features,
They were mere shadows
to the naked eyes,
With no genders nor caste.
The gods on earth and their loyal followers
Despised the heavenly powers
Calling swindlers.
They lost the war…
And went back like a
Defeated group of
Crazy barbarians.
Somewhere far away…
a poet wrote,
“oh, mighty gods...
U sat there idle
Enjoying the celestial luxuries…
U dint know
The ship of earth
Sinking with swindlers…
And now…
You are useless as gods,
In fact… not gods anymore
But a group of
Lunatic formless shadows.
#review
#JOHNPAUL
#poetry
(You have to think of a love song in the background and read it... I wrote it that way soo... :)
Lets stop
being pretentious
coz it's xmas
I Miss
your brown skin
Your bright grin
Your sexy thin
I remember
Those lips...
that got sweeter with those unspoken words
those burning petals...
without quenching the thirst for a kiss
Yet we sit still
glancing each other
living in each other's eyes
The person I miss most
Will always be you
And No one else comes close
For this
My friends think I'm crazy
And I'm maybe
But it's for you baby
I was young
I was dumb
I Wish... I wish I could do it all again...
So this is me, not dreaming
My pride bowing
In front of you saying
let's go back waking up in each other's arms
And Let me lay close to you
Closer than darkness
-John Paul Benoy ©
There are Some seeds
that cry needs
in the soil
Of soul
Waiting for rain of love
There are candles of life...
inside every soul
that burn only when they experience love...
#JOHNPAUL
#poetry
(You have to think of a love song in the background and read it... I wrote it that way soo... :)
Lets stop
being pretentious
coz it's xmas
I Miss
your brown skin
Your bright grin
Your sexy thin
I remember
Those lips...
that got sweeter with those unspoken words
those burning petals...
without quenching the thirst for a kiss
Yet we sit still
glancing each other
living in each other's eyes
The person I miss most
Will always be you
And No one else comes close
For this
My friends think I'm crazy
And I'm maybe
But it's for you baby
I was young
I was dumb
I Wish... I wish I could do it all again...
So this is me, not dreaming
My pride bowing
In front of you saying
let's go back waking up in each other's arms
And Let me lay close to you
Closer than darkness
-John Paul Benoy ©
There are Some seeds
that cry needs
in the soil
Of soul
Waiting for rain of love
There are candles of life...
inside every soul
that burn only when they experience love...
#megha #review
The heavenly messenger
Descended the earth
Once a fine day.
He walked through the streets
Watching the earthly beauties..
At a distance, he heard
The cries of people to god.
Not one.. but many did he heard.
But the gods were different
Nothing like that of his
Superiors back in heaven.
He went with the crowd
And saw a man
Dressed like a hermit.
The crowd prayed to him..
Cried to him..
Asked for guidance
And followed him
Like a flock of sheep.
The messenger astonished
Called out for justice.
Only to get stamped
By a flock of stupid sheep.
He went back, reported the case.
The heavenly aboard
Descended to earth
To punish the swindlers.
The gods and goddesses
Weren’t covered with gold and silk
Skin not fair and no perfect features,
They were mere shadows
to the naked eyes,
With no genders nor caste.
The gods on earth and their loyal followers
Despised the heavenly powers
Calling swindlers.
They lost the war…
And went back like a
Defeated group of
Crazy barbarians.
Somewhere far away…
a poet wrote,
“oh, mighty gods...
U sat there idle
Enjoying the celestial luxuries…
U dint know
The ship of earth
Sinking with swindlers…
And now…
You are useless as gods,
In fact… not gods anymore
But a group of
Lunatic formless shadows.
The heavenly messenger
Descended the earth
Once a fine day.
He walked through the streets
Watching the earthly beauties..
At a distance, he heard
The cries of people to god.
Not one.. but many did he heard.
But the gods were different
Nothing like that of his
Superiors back in heaven.
He went with the crowd
And saw a man
Dressed like a hermit.
The crowd prayed to him..
Cried to him..
Asked for guidance
And followed him
Like a flock of sheep.
The messenger astonished
Called out for justice.
Only to get stamped
By a flock of stupid sheep.
He went back, reported the case.
The heavenly aboard
Descended to earth
To punish the swindlers.
The gods and goddesses
Weren’t covered with gold and silk
Skin not fair and no perfect features,
They were mere shadows
to the naked eyes,
With no genders nor caste.
The gods on earth and their loyal followers
Despised the heavenly powers
Calling swindlers.
They lost the war…
And went back like a
Defeated group of
Crazy barbarians.
Somewhere far away…
a poet wrote,
“oh, mighty gods...
U sat there idle
Enjoying the celestial luxuries…
U dint know
The ship of earth
Sinking with swindlers…
And now…
You are useless as gods,
In fact… not gods anymore
But a group of
Lunatic formless shadows.
Finished
It's your love that made me colour blind,
Can't distinguish between red & green.
It's your love that drove me out of my mind,
Can't distinguish between wrong & right with them saying I'm mean.
It's difficult to focus on present,
When still stuck in the past,
It all feels so unpleasant,
Where r u now?
When u promised to be with me till the last.
I lost that very day,
The day God took u away.
Sober yet it feels like everything's spinning,
Gotta start that damn life yet again from the beginning.
Stone cold from within still burning like hell,
No more screams left to yell.
Shivering badly even though it's so hot,
Don't wanna think about it cuz damn it hurts a lot.
No more tears left to weep,
Even the pulse rate has stopped to beep.
I'm finished💔🙂
#review #San
It's your love that made me colour blind,
Can't distinguish between red & green.
It's your love that drove me out of my mind,
Can't distinguish between wrong & right with them saying I'm mean.
It's difficult to focus on present,
When still stuck in the past,
It all feels so unpleasant,
Where r u now?
When u promised to be with me till the last.
I lost that very day,
The day God took u away.
Sober yet it feels like everything's spinning,
Gotta start that damn life yet again from the beginning.
Stone cold from within still burning like hell,
No more screams left to yell.
Shivering badly even though it's so hot,
Don't wanna think about it cuz damn it hurts a lot.
No more tears left to weep,
Even the pulse rate has stopped to beep.
I'm finished💔🙂
#review #San
Hard work.
"Nothing left to chance. All is the result of hard work."
And you know what they say.
You should have continued pushing.
You shouldn’t have given up.
That your ignition moment was seconds away from the point of throwing in the towel.
We scoff at the idea of playing the lottery.
"It’s tax on the stupid."
But doesn’t it take a fool to chase a dream?
And even entertaining the idea of winning I have heard someone say that it would feel unearned.
So instead, we toil, we work and continue failing, because only hard work will get us to the place where we receive what we desire. Not only what we desire, like a result of some sort, but also what we deserve. Somehow it all measures up to the amount of effort and sweat we have put it.
Yes.
It’s only then, and only through hard work.
Because chance has got nothing to do with it.
You need to let your passion consume you. You must hustle. Juggle a couple of jobs. Have a few gigs. After a day in the office, moonlight as a babysitter, dog-walker or a dancer. Have your favourite motivational speaker blasting words of encouragement into your ears as you do it.
You must keep moving.
You must become a nomad, changing your job every two years, moving every two years, having a mental breakdown every two years.
Like any “stay positive” bullshit you could hear said by some celebrity.
They’ve made it. They must have put in the work. If it worked for them, it can work for me, right? But is that what you want?
Is that what anyone should want?
And how many stories are there of people dying for their dreams.
Sacrificing their own life in the vain pursuit of inherited and brainwashed dreams.
Didn’t they work hard enough?
Or they worked too hard? They became too consumed, possessed to the point of losing touch with reality. They found their emergency exit.
Either way you look at it, it doesn’t make sense. But I guess that’s life.
And aren’t there enough gurus? Enough “self-made” giants? Messiahs who found their enlightenment. You must believe in their testimony. You must become their copy. At least in the life where we must find ourselves some meaning, well, at least with this you found yourself a shortcut. got to stay positive.
Got to keep hustling.
Sell your dreams for someone else’s. It will save you heartache in the end.
The fucking audacity though… “Maybe you haven’t worked hard enough.”
Well, “maybe you had it too easy.”
#review
"Nothing left to chance. All is the result of hard work."
And you know what they say.
You should have continued pushing.
You shouldn’t have given up.
That your ignition moment was seconds away from the point of throwing in the towel.
We scoff at the idea of playing the lottery.
"It’s tax on the stupid."
But doesn’t it take a fool to chase a dream?
And even entertaining the idea of winning I have heard someone say that it would feel unearned.
So instead, we toil, we work and continue failing, because only hard work will get us to the place where we receive what we desire. Not only what we desire, like a result of some sort, but also what we deserve. Somehow it all measures up to the amount of effort and sweat we have put it.
Yes.
It’s only then, and only through hard work.
Because chance has got nothing to do with it.
You need to let your passion consume you. You must hustle. Juggle a couple of jobs. Have a few gigs. After a day in the office, moonlight as a babysitter, dog-walker or a dancer. Have your favourite motivational speaker blasting words of encouragement into your ears as you do it.
You must keep moving.
You must become a nomad, changing your job every two years, moving every two years, having a mental breakdown every two years.
Like any “stay positive” bullshit you could hear said by some celebrity.
They’ve made it. They must have put in the work. If it worked for them, it can work for me, right? But is that what you want?
Is that what anyone should want?
And how many stories are there of people dying for their dreams.
Sacrificing their own life in the vain pursuit of inherited and brainwashed dreams.
Didn’t they work hard enough?
Or they worked too hard? They became too consumed, possessed to the point of losing touch with reality. They found their emergency exit.
Either way you look at it, it doesn’t make sense. But I guess that’s life.
And aren’t there enough gurus? Enough “self-made” giants? Messiahs who found their enlightenment. You must believe in their testimony. You must become their copy. At least in the life where we must find ourselves some meaning, well, at least with this you found yourself a shortcut. got to stay positive.
Got to keep hustling.
Sell your dreams for someone else’s. It will save you heartache in the end.
The fucking audacity though… “Maybe you haven’t worked hard enough.”
Well, “maybe you had it too easy.”
#review
Once you get everything you're looking for:
the self-fulfillment, the success, the money, the fancy stuff;
I bet you'll rest your head on your pillow and you'll start seeing it all in hindsight:
the choice you made, the breakup, the leaving, the distance.
It will all become a never ending circle repeating over and over again on your mind,
a ghost that will haunt you every night
a tormenting rush of jet-black regret and blame.
And my dear, only then you will truly ponder
what's worth a lifetime of achievement
if you won't have me anymore.
#review #poetry #meredith
the self-fulfillment, the success, the money, the fancy stuff;
I bet you'll rest your head on your pillow and you'll start seeing it all in hindsight:
the choice you made, the breakup, the leaving, the distance.
It will all become a never ending circle repeating over and over again on your mind,
a ghost that will haunt you every night
a tormenting rush of jet-black regret and blame.
And my dear, only then you will truly ponder
what's worth a lifetime of achievement
if you won't have me anymore.
#review #poetry #meredith
Once you get everything you're looking for:
the self-fulfillment, the success, the money, the fancy stuff;
I bet you'll rest your head on your pillow and you'll start seeing it all in hindsight:
the choice you made, the breakup, the leaving, the distance.
It will all become a never ending circle
repeating over and over again on your mind,
a ghost that will haunt you every night
a tormenting rush of jet-black regret and blame.
And my dear, only then you will truly ponder
what's worth a lifetime of achievement
if you won't have me anymore.
#review #poetry #meredith
the self-fulfillment, the success, the money, the fancy stuff;
I bet you'll rest your head on your pillow and you'll start seeing it all in hindsight:
the choice you made, the breakup, the leaving, the distance.
It will all become a never ending circle
repeating over and over again on your mind,
a ghost that will haunt you every night
a tormenting rush of jet-black regret and blame.
And my dear, only then you will truly ponder
what's worth a lifetime of achievement
if you won't have me anymore.
#review #poetry #meredith
Once you get everything you're looking for:
the self-fulfillment, the success, the money, the fancy stuff;
I bet you'll rest your head on your pillow
and you'll start seeing it all in hindsight:
the choice you made, the breakup, the leaving, the distance.
It will all become a never ending circle
repeating over and over again on your mind,
a ghost that will haunt you every night
a tormenting rush of jet-black regret and blame.
And my dear, only then you will truly ponder
what's worth a lifetime of achievement
if you won't have me anymore.
#review #poetry #meredith
the self-fulfillment, the success, the money, the fancy stuff;
I bet you'll rest your head on your pillow
and you'll start seeing it all in hindsight:
the choice you made, the breakup, the leaving, the distance.
It will all become a never ending circle
repeating over and over again on your mind,
a ghost that will haunt you every night
a tormenting rush of jet-black regret and blame.
And my dear, only then you will truly ponder
what's worth a lifetime of achievement
if you won't have me anymore.
#review #poetry #meredith
Once you get everything you're looking for:
the self-fulfillment, the success, the money, the fancy stuff;
I bet you'll rest your head on your pillow
and you'll start seeing it all in hindsight:
the choice you made, the breakup, the leaving, the distance.
It will all become a never ending circle
repeating over and over again on your mind,
a ghost that will haunt you every night,
a tormenting rush of jet-black regret and blame.
And my dear, only then you will truly ponder
what's worth a lifetime of achievement
if you won't have me anymore.
#review #poetry #meredith
the self-fulfillment, the success, the money, the fancy stuff;
I bet you'll rest your head on your pillow
and you'll start seeing it all in hindsight:
the choice you made, the breakup, the leaving, the distance.
It will all become a never ending circle
repeating over and over again on your mind,
a ghost that will haunt you every night,
a tormenting rush of jet-black regret and blame.
And my dear, only then you will truly ponder
what's worth a lifetime of achievement
if you won't have me anymore.
#review #poetry #meredith
#review
Internal
The future comes in scenes and quiet whispers. It comes in conflicting, confusing thoughts. I space out, detach and people ask what's going on.
Nothing.
Nothing yet.
Just a couple of scattered dots connected with imaginary lines. When you catch the beginning, the ending unfolds on its own. People leave too much evidence around. Average, average, second class criminals. It's better to come to terms with what we are, than pretend we are smarter than everyone else. Because at least then the chance of being caught might at least cross your mind, right? Courtesy of equality. It doesn't matter. It's apparent where it leads.
I always choose to play the fool. Why? Because what can I say? That I feel? What good has that ever done? It's not the best line of defence. Even worse for the prosecution. Senses are only useful in the off-chance you get to act on what they shock your system with.
"Guilty until proven innocent."
No wait, that's the other way around, isn't it?
The internal mess makes no sense and words are the only way to express it. As soon as sounds come out of the throat or the hand guides the pen, then the thesis rejects itself. The irrational trying to straighten out a path that's a roundabout in reality.
It's pointless, don't you think?
It's gone as soon as it happens. The feelings escape and abandon the fleshly vessel. And then there are only afterthoughts left.
I knew it.
I guessed.
My instincts rebelled.
I didn't listen.
Nobody did.
I pushed against everything from within, as time flipped to the final page. No surprises left. I read it too many times.
Sleepless nights, dreamless days. I used to dream. I don't want to anymore. I can't stand my own mind. There are only hopes that have been cast away into eternity. As far away from the present as possible. Too close to what's real. Too far away to be seen. But it felt real before it was. So when it finally happens, everyone gets to go their own way. And I get to stand on my own. Get to take it all in. I was right after all. And there is some satisfaction in that. And I get to beat myself up again. And maybe one day I'll learn.
Internal
The future comes in scenes and quiet whispers. It comes in conflicting, confusing thoughts. I space out, detach and people ask what's going on.
Nothing.
Nothing yet.
Just a couple of scattered dots connected with imaginary lines. When you catch the beginning, the ending unfolds on its own. People leave too much evidence around. Average, average, second class criminals. It's better to come to terms with what we are, than pretend we are smarter than everyone else. Because at least then the chance of being caught might at least cross your mind, right? Courtesy of equality. It doesn't matter. It's apparent where it leads.
I always choose to play the fool. Why? Because what can I say? That I feel? What good has that ever done? It's not the best line of defence. Even worse for the prosecution. Senses are only useful in the off-chance you get to act on what they shock your system with.
"Guilty until proven innocent."
No wait, that's the other way around, isn't it?
The internal mess makes no sense and words are the only way to express it. As soon as sounds come out of the throat or the hand guides the pen, then the thesis rejects itself. The irrational trying to straighten out a path that's a roundabout in reality.
It's pointless, don't you think?
It's gone as soon as it happens. The feelings escape and abandon the fleshly vessel. And then there are only afterthoughts left.
I knew it.
I guessed.
My instincts rebelled.
I didn't listen.
Nobody did.
I pushed against everything from within, as time flipped to the final page. No surprises left. I read it too many times.
Sleepless nights, dreamless days. I used to dream. I don't want to anymore. I can't stand my own mind. There are only hopes that have been cast away into eternity. As far away from the present as possible. Too close to what's real. Too far away to be seen. But it felt real before it was. So when it finally happens, everyone gets to go their own way. And I get to stand on my own. Get to take it all in. I was right after all. And there is some satisfaction in that. And I get to beat myself up again. And maybe one day I'll learn.
WHO YOU REALLY SEE
People have lived a unique period,
forced to wear masks as a way
of protecting themselves from an outward
enemy with scant liberty.
Maybe, no one has ever lived without masks. Who has never hidden
behind invisible veils, worried
about the prejudgment of others.
Along with the life, day after day,
we'll meet up with oodles of
people but very few
showing their true faces.
The vast majority is not brave
enough to show their true inner
or, perhaps, they don't even know
who they really are.
It's easier to live under the roles
imposed to us by life instead
of facing our real selves in a
pursue to uncover - Who am I really?
#review #LucianadeLemos #poetry
People have lived a unique period,
forced to wear masks as a way
of protecting themselves from an outward
enemy with scant liberty.
Maybe, no one has ever lived without masks. Who has never hidden
behind invisible veils, worried
about the prejudgment of others.
Along with the life, day after day,
we'll meet up with oodles of
people but very few
showing their true faces.
The vast majority is not brave
enough to show their true inner
or, perhaps, they don't even know
who they really are.
It's easier to live under the roles
imposed to us by life instead
of facing our real selves in a
pursue to uncover - Who am I really?
#review #LucianadeLemos #poetry
WHO YOU REALLY SEE
People have lived a unique period,
forced to wear masks as a way
of protecting themselves from an outward
enemy with scant liberty.
Maybe, no one has ever lived without masks. Who has never hidden
behind invisible veils, worried
about the prejudgment of others.
Along with the life, day after day,
we'll meet up with oodles of
people but very few
showing their true faces.
The vast majority is not brave
enough to show their true inner
or, perhaps, they don't even know
who they really are.
It's easier to live under the roles
imposed to us by life instead
of facing our real selves in a
pursue to uncover - Who am I really?
#review #LucianadeLemos #poetry
People have lived a unique period,
forced to wear masks as a way
of protecting themselves from an outward
enemy with scant liberty.
Maybe, no one has ever lived without masks. Who has never hidden
behind invisible veils, worried
about the prejudgment of others.
Along with the life, day after day,
we'll meet up with oodles of
people but very few
showing their true faces.
The vast majority is not brave
enough to show their true inner
or, perhaps, they don't even know
who they really are.
It's easier to live under the roles
imposed to us by life instead
of facing our real selves in a
pursue to uncover - Who am I really?
#review #LucianadeLemos #poetry