It is full of smiles that it starts happily
Eyes show the truth, the reality
I'm so HAPPY, happy of things that surrounds me!
I discovered something strange
That shocked my whole system in a short range
Because I once believed a fake news that spreads rapidly.
How could I possibly accept that lie?
Is that what I deserve?
Do people know the reason why?
Unlimited questions that continuously occupying my mind
Laughter turns to endless frown
Mood shifted from happy to sad
Am I truly fine with it?
We are proved wrong
Time and time again
of what we think is correct .
There is limit to the expansion
of our minds dimension
We do not have knowledge out of box
We keep ourself in
We learn the only the lesson life teaches us
but the lessons do not end there
The life doesn't halts there
Many mysteries still remain unsolved
and the world moves on
Once in a while , a new discovery is made
previous theories do not hold the same weight
and it shocks you awake ,in a process of change
and the world moves on ahead
Defining everything anew
to understand the rights and wrongs
How did we get here?
Where we hide our thoughts,
And only speak in fear,
Just so we don't get caught,
So we keep to ourselves our opinions and ideas,
How did we get here?
How did we get to this?
Where we have a limit of a way to think,
And we limit our right to freedom of speech,
All just so we don't offend thee,
How did we get to this?
The men who are meant to serve,
Can't handle the truth,
So we don't tell it as it is,
Coz we know what they'll do,
From courts to jail and at times beating,
Yes that's true!,
So it all comes down to what they'll choose,
And they smile like its all good,
So we have to hold on to our dictionary for a consult,
Just so when we speak we don't accidentally insult,
'cause you know the big men can't take a joke,
Or a poke and what not,
And its not that we can fight,
We can't take them up in a round with all their might,
They'd squash us down like a bug,
And then just shrug,
How did we get here?,
Its not like they need it to earn our respect,
We've already voted for them,
How do they not get it?,
We did it with clear mind,
And know that they ain't perfect,
Why do we have to regret?
So I sit here just asking,
How did we get here,
I thought things would be better,
Instead we all now have to look over our shoulder,
How did we get here
If all were either black or white,
If grey areas there were none;
If all were either wrong or right,
One or the other, no question,
Would it be either good or bad?
Would it be a blessing or curse?
Would it make us happy or sad?
Would we be better off or worse?
She's a little right,
A little left,
A little wild,
With no safety net,
She flaunts her battle scars,
With a brave formidable heart,
A rough, blurred past,
With a smile that forever lasts,
She's that little morning call,
That raise your darkened soul,
She's a little magic ring,
That you'd always find its need,
She's a little wounded inside,
And still hold a smile,
She's a little left and right,
A blessing that lingers for a while,
Things are always accelerating,
Especially here at "the end,"
(Always some end to somebody),
And my heart beats in cluttered lumps,
Begging me to go outside and,
Sit near the river,
Where the water rushing over the creek is,
Just the kind of white noise you need.
I think about all sorts of scattered things,
Like that conspiracy guy in "Slacker,"
And Kaczynski and Kurzweil,
Last Child in the Woods
So many assaults on the biological divinity.
But I also think of Siddhartha,
Known by his buddies as Buddy Buddha,
Taking a deep breath and accepting that,
The present moment is all you ever really have
So to not enjoy it is really the greatest crime.
I twiddle a blade of grass in my fingers and think,
"Maybe I'm wrong,"
I hope I'm wrong about everything,
And that the egg lands squarely on my face,
While everybody else says,
"See! We told you!"
And erects the signs proclaiming,
WELCOME TO UTOPIA
Sometimes it's good to be wrong.
It’s easiest to write about the rain
As it rains
And it was easier to write about the pain
When there was pain
But now I don’t write much
To talk about
More than enough to doubt
Very little to figure out
Sometimes a personal critic to fight
Before any work is even done
Let alone done right
Levying with the fatigue to propel
To propel forward
For fuck’s sake, not back
And it’s not so easy to write
When you just write
And it was not so easy to write
By Arcassin Burnham
Your love for me,
Is not right for me,
I could see our dreams,
floating into little pieces,
You need to be,
Away from me,
I don't want to
of your love that is not right for me,
I don't want you to fight for me,
You're just a memory,
Get off of me,
Your the past to me,
Please understand my plea,
No future is upon us nor has God even spoken,
About the ones who made it,
Only a few have been chosen,
I'm talking about the rapture honey,
I'm not a scientist,
If you pay me enough I'll be your personal
are you listening
is there something in your mind
the skies are clearly brightening
love we're running out of time.
my time table is worked down till the last seconds of every day,
every minute creeps around the clock only to shiver and die.
we're all on schedule, we're all here for finite moments that float away.
but isn't it only fun when
you're at the wrong place at the right time?