He still has fears,
Strotting as he visualizes their future together.
He still has fears,
Not knowing how to escape the quagmire of his emotional distress.
He is laden with fear,
Caught in between his innate desires and ****** expectation
But in the face of these fears, he is defiant
Determined to grasp that which excites his soul.
Even in this quandary,
He is more resolute in finding his heart's joy.
And though he sees this fear,
Lurking behind those dark shadows around her eyes,
Striving to be objective in the face of pessimism,
He knows, that the onus lies on him,
to bring hope
and to reignite the flame
bringing her to the state of belief
that irrespective of all his fears
He will fight to make her his.
Jan 29, 2015
Jan 29, 2015 at 1:42 AM UTC
On the tip of the mat we stood
Poised to dance
Or was it to hug
Any reason so I could hold you.
There I stood, hugging you
Then I looked down into your eyes
Your lips meeting mine
Waves of voluptuous pleasures gushing through my inner cavities
A rhapsody of passion ravaging the chambers of my soul
We stood, we sat, we laid
Lips firmly locked in passionate fervor
Is this nostalgia or novel?
A feeling like I'd never had
Or was it one long lost?
One thing is certain though,
Memories are rarely fondly kept
Like that of the night I kissed you.
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 5:42 PM UTC
Sermons, norms, cultures
The burden of expectations laid on a bare mind.
Obedience and conformity are demanded,
Because without them, societal dysfunction is hung around your neck.
"How will our people react?"
"What will the world say?"
"What will the people think?"
Cultural touchstones infusing the fear of freedom.......
So an innocent mind is laden with cultural jargon
A free soul is constrained to tread on a worn path of mediocrity.
Our culture is our way of life.
Seemingly innocuous, but a web ensnaring the future
A facade of stability clipping the joys of the soul.
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 1:21 PM UTC
Exploding into the air
With sporadic beauty
Sparkling lights everywhere,
so many to gaze at
I am struck once again
like every unfolding eve
By the magnificient beauty
of this gigantic display of awe
But this time around
it's not in the air
Utterly silent, yet gripping
Darkness is still shattered
and the beauty more glorious.
It is right before my eyes
as I behold yours.
I see another kind of fireworks
.........My fireworks.
Je t'aime beaucoup Magda
Jan 3, 2015
Jan 3, 2015 at 4:09 AM UTC