Stop living your life like you're in some kind of a movie.  
Stop trying to cast your true love instead of just meeting them.
Love isn't always a lightning bolt, maybe sometimes it's just a choice.
Maybe true love is a decision.
A decision to take a chance with somebody.  
To give to somebody without worrying whether they'll give anything back or if they're going to hurt you or if they really are the one.
Maybe love isn't something that happens to you, maybe it's something you have to choose.


**True love is a process, not an event.

Spreading division
spewing forth hate
an inferno was growing
instead of debate
unwilling to reason
unwilling to bend
he preached of restoring
his view of the faith

It mattered not
whom he'd killed
or made to suffer
infidels they 'd been
unworthy of life
in the creators grand scheme
they were lower than slug
the vision he'd seen

Attracted to him
were the lowest of low
the uneducated
would die for his cause
he peddled in hope
while selling his dream
taking out on the innocent
his satanic scheme

A loser in life
a loser in love
lashing out at his neighbors
demanding they look
upon his new greatness
surely they'd see
a man of importance
he'd finally be

Lines were now crossed
there was no going back
forces were gathering
a decisive strike back
with no more warnings
for none were required
the world would soon see
this prophet retired

Whenever, February comes around
and if I am still here breathing ,
I must shed a tear
Whenever the coldest month
of the year gets to me
I flashback to 1959 and
the bullock’s heart tree:

My vivid memories might seem a bit strange,
But according to sources, it’s where my Nana
buried my navel string: under the old bullock’s heart tree

The bullock’s heart trees shall forever lived on
So are my memories of that secret place
the sparrows and the blackbirds shall
  forever feast upon the ripened fruits it produces

The broad leaves shall shelter the wild doves,
from the tropical sun and rain,
However, how strange my memories might seems
whenever, February arrives and I am still
breathing, I must shed a tear.
because, I am forever blessed ..Happy birthday to me.

حيتما  يفيض كأسي                                                                                                                 اعرف عندها                                                                                                                                 ان صبري قد نفذ !                                                                                                                            حينما تصب كل الانهار و الجداول و كل البحار                                                                                    في محيطي                                                                                                                                 فعندها اعلم ان الجميع                                                                                                                 قد نفذ صبرهم ...                                                                                                                         هكذا هي الحياة احيانا ...                                                                                                                     حينما و عندما                                                                                                                                      و عندما و حينما ...                                                                                                         لا فرق بين حينما و عندما ...                                                                                                       فعندما يقع المرء ارضا                                                                                                                   فهذا يعني ان السكاكين                                                                                                                ستنزل عليه نزولا ...                                                                                                                    فقط عندما و فقط حينما ...                                                                                                              ليس هناك فرقا واسعا                                                                                                                   بين حينما و عندما ...                                                                                                                   _____________________

~~♥~~

I used to think men
should be more like books
Both you cannot
judge by looks...

If I didn't want to finish reading
I put it down... no heart was bleeding

A book will never fuss or fight
It will stay with you
through the night...

It doesn't smoke. It doesn't drink.
It won't leave toothpaste
in the sink!

It doesn't binge... it don't eat...
It won't leave up the toilet seat!

It don't forget. It doesn't mope.
It won't hog the TV remote!

It doesn't have to have
The last say...
It doesn't have legs

to walk away.

But it's not soft. It isn't warm.
It doesn't keep you
safe from harm.

Even though it makes no fuss
It can't think. It can't discuss.

Even though it has its charms
it can't hold you in its arms.

It doesn't pine. It doesn't miss.
It can't hug and it can't kiss.

So now I think on it again...
... I think BOOKS should be
             more like MEN!!!


SoulSurvivor
2/20/2015

Of all the tools in the world, the hammer intrigues me most.
Both in war and peace it has been a worthy companion of the host.

A weapon of mass destruction it is in times of war.
In times of peace a effective tool of mass construction across every shore.

It has been used both to make and to break.
The wisest of men have always known what action to take.

Forged both as a tool and a weapon in the heart of a furnace.
For those who bring a wind of change across the surface.

Worried about all those gays getting married
Playing football , everywhere on the TV
Yeah , and all those dammed dessert rats
Chopping off heads for all of us to see
Shooting those Muslim creeps
Everyone of them had it coming
Now , that's just the way it's going to be

And all those porch monkeys
Cut off all that gimme
They need to get a job
And quit dressing like they were slobs

Kick all those wet backs back to Mexico
There stealing all our jobs
They just come over to breed like rabbits
So they can stuff the liberal ballots

And Damm the chinks , ***** , and redman
There no better than all the Jews
Ther're thieves that steal us blind
We need to get rid of every X , Y , and U
Now that would ease my mind

And all that hogwash crap in the Constitution
That doesn't apply to me
This is the home of the White man
All red , blue , and white you see
That's the home of all that's me ,

.
    It's here again...
   Heavy downpour...
   I inhaled the rain,
    cloying with petrichor.

      Standing at my window,
     looking out...
    Street lamps struggled aglow.
   People with brollies walking about.

   My eyes reached out to the heavens,
    tracing these glassy beads
      as they'd free fall...
        Falling by the sheets,
       the pattering hastens,
      periodically punctuated
     by the thunder's call.

     Mind is drifting and floating,
       intently listening to a
          million love wishes...
             Liquid beauty...melding, sketching...
           In light entrapped splashes.

         Raindrops descend and come,
         into my still life tonight...
          Won't you will me numb,
             with your chilly bite...

             Wide-eyed enamour...
            Catching a stray droplet or two.
             Riding the tail of a zephyr,
              finding a place where
                no trouble could ensue.

            An errant gust blew
           to meet with me.
          The refreshing moist
         meets my parted lips...
        Inhaling deep in this reverie...
       Into a sea of tranquillity,
        my mind slowly dips...

      Sigh... If the droplets were kisses...
      I would savour each and every one.
      If the moist wind came and caresses
     I would meet it in a tight embrace
   till the break of sun.

  What a sight...
   Almost surreal it seems...
      As the light from the surrounding
         lamps dances playfully...
        Dispersing and exploding into a
     barrage of shattered beams.
    Before it gets subdued in the drops
   caught by the leaves on a nearby tree...

   The drops would trickle
     and fall before merging,
      forming stranded puddles
       unable to flow...
        Rippling... Splashing... Reflecting...
      An image...
     Borne out of a fantastic show.

    An image of beating hearts,
     overlapping one another...
       Speaking of consequential love
          and feelings so true
        Intertwined...
     in the promise of forever...
  Slowly retrieving itself into an...


  image of you...