Alexander Graham
Rang a Bell when he said
Mr. Watson, come here
In 1876

With no earthly idea
Of what was to come
How we live today
With cell phones up our butts

Wherever you turn
Someone's talking or texting
At every red light
While the green one is resting

And let's not forget
The in your ear bluetooth craze
People talking out loud to themselves
Like we all care what they say

Or out and about
At a table for four
Where each cell phone in hand
Is the only thing not ignored

It does make you wonder
What Alexander would do
If he saw his seed planted
Producing this rotten fruit

Perhaps then Alexander Graham
Would ring that Bell in history
And say Mr. Watson, come here
Help me destroy this thing!

You might find this tid bit
A bit hard to believe
But I swear my cat sees thing
That I ain't never seen

I'm thinking that it's spirits
Floating all around
You can most often tell
With her constant peculiar meows

She'll sit there and she'll stare
At one spot to no end
It seems to me it must be the dead
As sure as I now live

Or when she ups and jumps
Batting at nothing but thin air
I doubt that it's the micro dust
But rather the spirits floating there

I know that all cats automatically come
With a total of nine lives
Which leaves me to often wonder
How many live on the other side

Yes, my cat sees ghosts
But you would never know
Cause she seems to see the strangest things
That no human eye could ever hope

Tiny fingers
Teeny toes
Crooked smile
Turned up nose
Wisp of golden hair
In your blue eyes
Makes me happy
You are mine

Jelly belly
Baby breath
What are the thoughts
Running through your head
You'll soon be grown
And gone in time
No matter where
You'll still be mine

Infectious smile
Contagious laugh
Giving all the joy
In all you have
Impish nod
Twinkle eyes
I'm so happy
You are mine

And what is best
Above the others
You're the spitting image
Of your mother

Dear muse, I penned this verse with feather quill,
To gently praise your beauty of renown,
My words to float aloft your gaze until,
They softly kiss your eyes like thistledown.

One single thought of you is all I need,
Pure beams of gold to light my dulling day,
A gorgeous wildflower peers from tangled ****,
And paints a splash of colour to my grey.

My lonely shadow drapes this em'rald shore,
With somber heart I yearn your close embrace,
Between us how wild stormy waters roar,
Such tempest I would brave to see your face.

Fond kisses blown on gentle winds your way,
Warm breezes seek wherein the fells you stray.

sometimes we should let the silence be our words, the darkness our light and the stillness our dance; so that life is processed not only by our minds, but also through our hearts.

You a man
I a man
We walk very different paths

You walk the path of the mind
To seek knowledge that may mold your wit
Into a crown of crystal jewels
Which when acquired
Shall grant you access to the royal court
Of well-known scholars and fatal geniuses
You seek to be a tragic figure of brains
And at the end of your path
A crowd of followers will weep for you
Cleansing you for your entrance to Heaven

I walk the path of the body
Strength on my conscience
Protection my aim
The ability to fight back is what I seek
But in this strength is weakness
My emotions run marathons
My head is constantly loosely ******* in
The two creating havoc for me
And causing me to roll in pieces
The end of my path
I fear
Has nothing
But a sign that reads
‘No Exit’
For when you go to hell, there’s no turning back

Our paths lead to such opposite destinations
I to the east
And you to the west

But

Our passion is one
And we dig up our paths
To replant them intertwined
No one offers you a lover that you really want
You find your own on a path
Or make your path to fit
The way you want to go

Though we’re not meant to cross
We do it anyway

You a man
I a man
We walk very different paths

First, don’t go to any of your lectures.
Drink
yourself half-to-death,
hope
to fall into a coma. Have fun
while you do this.

Make it so bad that the friend
who was once
your drug dealer
expresses concern
for your health. Step two:

Don’t study either,
procrastinate, find sick notes,
push back the date
for the inevitable
until there’s one day left
and the workload might **** you.

Finally, step three;
stand on the steps
outside the exam hall, smoking,
have your dad call you
explaining
the death of a good friend’s father.

Use your last ten minutes
to ring old friends who need to know.
Pass on the message,
blank,
leave the exam after twenty minutes,
cry in the bathroom
and go.

Hinduism
       Is
the art of
     Living.