I hate flying alone, so
travel the world with me...
Think of all the places we'll see,
all the people we'll meet,
all the food we'll eat and
all the languages we'll learn.
We'll get to see the
greatest art piece... the world.
At the end of it all
we'll have discovered new things
and have stories to tell
.... we'll have memories to share...

.
                                    S
                          k      k i        k
                        i         r t           i
                       r           S              r
                      t          k     i           t
                      S          r     t           S
                       k         S    k           k
                        i          i   r            i
                         r           t             r
                            t        ~          t

Sitting at my desk
Yet another day jobless

Another day to wake up and become hopeful
Only to find myself discouraged


Go to college they said
Get a job they said

Well, I’ve done this
And I’ve done that

And now here I am
25 years old

broke;
discouraged;

attempting to figure out
what the hell I am supposed to be learning from all this?

Resilience
They say

Embrace the struggle
They say

You just have to want it
They say

Well, I’ve done this
And I’ve done that

Sitting at my desk
Yet another day jobless

Come, my love
let us speak now
the language
of skin

imprint
your lexicon
in my every hollow

stroke that soft spot
above my hipbone
you love so well

linger there
like we have
forever

mold my body
to fit yours
wrap me in sleep

precious few
hours remain
imagine to never
touch again.

When it's late
Don't mess with sticky notions
Don't fool with dangerous spaces
There is no peace in such locations
And time shall have all traces
Of the needed restraint and sobriety
To see us to our dotage

But then
How else are we to grow?
And then again
Who  wants a dotage?

Because when it's late
Mocking caverns of reality yawn
And toil tedium and trivia
Are in the eyes of statues
And these cry glass marble tears
Because they cannot move
They cannot leave the ground
Their lowered heads like ageing flowers
Sadly shrunken and dried
With a gluttony of hours
And all love of life long gone
That's when it's late

                                 By Phil Roberts

My lust, my thirst,
Day by day happen to increase,
But the truth is it darling,
That my life till date has been cease (d)

We're so many yet so alone,
We live in a prison and call it a home..


Only if I could die, I could be well,
Since over 7 billion people on this planet,
And not even a single has time for me,
What The hell...

whenever I cry, I just have a blanket,
My friends - they're so busy,
I feel like John Cena -
Saying you can't see me..

Somebody has a life to make,
Somebody is busy in the life already made,
And somebody's somebody has problems from me..
That's what the world's population sounds to me!

I want to die,
I want to end my life,
Maybe a dagger, a bottle of pills,
A gun or just the kitchen knife..

Or else,
Maybe this world could be made a better place,
And this Earth can too have better grace...
Where all are the winners of the same race,
Where there's no religion, no gender and no race..

Where the news  isn't flooded with - murders, robberies, corruption, abduction and ****..

Where people love humanity, and equality,
Where people love animals and are against them the cruelty,
Where mother nature is treated with all the novelty..
And where people don't live for money..

And where there is no liquor, no smoking pipe,
All humans, living a peaceful life..

No army - fighting for borders,
No policemen killing innocent 'cause of orders,
No terrorists no racists,
And humanity has no horrors...

I know that world is kinda impossible to create,
But maybe this does happen,
If  a little  step  we  initiate..

We're so many yet so alone,
We live in a  prison and call it a home..

A girl of like eleven,
Seemed so fragile for the nature's cycle.
She wasn't yet as tall as she wanted to be,
Things like getting bigger ***** and better *****,
Took her to heaven.
And made her happy...

A girl of like eleven,
Seemed so young for the nature's cycle,
She wasn't yet told about any ****** cycle related thing,
Good touch and bad touch, for her had been everything..
And about anything more she knew nothing...


She kept weeping and repeating,
" I didn't get a wound, but its bleeding "
When truth infront of her did lay,
She wondered about the number of days it would stay!
And repeated the thing again,
" You serious, every month the same pain? "


Entire family cherished, and took care of the little princess with ' eggs'
And the girl still did lay confused, with if kids are born from the tummy,
What has it got to do with the hole in  legs?