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Shivam Porwal  Dec 2017
Faisla
Shivam Porwal Dec 2017
Zindagi me kai ese moke aaenge jab tum apne apko 1 ajib kashmo kash me paoge,
Kai viparit paristhityo ka dar tumhe sataega,
Kya galat hai kya sahi tumhe kuch smjh nahi aaega,

Ye kuch uljhne hai jo har kisi ki Zindagi me alg alg samay pr aati hai
Jo ki us waqt pr bhut soch smjhkr kuch faislo se suljhai jati hai

Par kya wo faisle lena itna aasan hota hai?

Kyu ki wo 1 faisla shyd puri zindagi ko bdl skta hai

Har faisle me Kuch panne ki tammana, to kuch khone ka dar to hoga
Par un sab raaho me se kisi 1 ko tumhe chunna hoga,

Us raah ko chunne ke liye tum Hazaro logo se ray mashwara karte **
Kai baar apne dil ki chod, gairo ki baat par bh yakin karte **

Par smjho is baat ko, ki Hazaro se sunkr bhi tumhara dil kis chiz ko chahta hai
Dhundho, Kya hai wo esa jisko tumhara man puri mehnat, lagan aur jazbato k sath karna chahta hai.

Kyu ki Sahi to sab kuch hai is duniya me
Par tumhare liye kya sahi hai ye tumhi jaan skte **
Apne andar ki kabiliyat ko pehchankar, Mehnat kar
apne sapno ko haqueeqat bana skte ** !!
An inspirational poem, which teaches how to take the decision in life.
Daniel Magner  May 2013
Moke
Daniel Magner May 2013
That hideous
brownish
smoke.
Oh it makes me
choke to think
of it sinking
into your lungs
© Daniel Magner 2013
Rambus  Dec 2016
The Lecher
Rambus Dec 2016
Never he was an honest man
Who prides himself
On wanton expeditions

In a field of truth
He lies, entangled in conceit
To win that which he desires –
It is only but a game.

Mind not his mental means, nor manner –
Be he sane or psychopath –
But the strategy by which he plays:
Cheat, deceive, manipulate,
Overcome, and conquer your carnal estate.

Twisted tales, spun with golden thread
Crafted by careful practice and confidence
The master of charisma in his own head
Is no Eros, in any sense – Erosive, yes –
He is only what you want but for a brief moment
Be suspicious and expect this ever-real Narcissus.

A lecher he is
A Greek God in wish –
Nay, he only lives in the fantastic,
Though he roams about us
In a surreal bubble,
Where love comes to pass,
He is ever-so subtle

He markets himself as a Rembrandt,
Although more a moke* than baroque,
Something which he could never see
Staring into his reflection so blindly.
At a cost, worth more than his fee,
This cheap knockoff of Sal Dali,
Would sell you his love
For a buck forty-three.

Beware the lecher.
*Moke is a British/Australian slang term for donkey or *******; a fool, representing the folly of man.
Brycical Aug 2011
The turkey-oh-gee, on
Isn’t the same
As turg-ee-ohg-heeee.

I chickened a buffalo.

Do moke smock in
The biff part this marks
The spot I’m not skipsing

This was longer ago.
I awoke being happy being happy

i am happy to be calling you a woos

i awoke being happy, being very happy

happy happy happy oi oi oi

fly burgers are good enough to eat

and simon said he will give you a special treat

man, i feel very very beat

fly burgers are such a tasty treat

rockabilly rockabillty rockabilly rock

a man comes up to tell ya to get ******

you say neh, i don’t wanna, no don’t

i just hop in my little mini moke

i rock up and  rock down

i party hardy all over the town

my dad told me, to be careful;, but he

doesn’t understand i am careful in a devious kind of way

15 miles to the get to the end

without mates voices driving you round the bend

please mate yeah mate yeah, leave me alone

cause i am the king sitting upon my thrown

i wear a gold gown and gold shoes on my feet

and this robe i have on is kind of ****** neat

please buddha, save me from this crap

because i am in a city, where the people seem nice and the ideas are alright

but when it comes to cool, i am the one to go to

party party party, yeah, i will ****** ****** party

i party for my mommy and i party for my daddy

i am not a hooligan though it’s hard to tell

i am not the type to kiss and tell

i am ugly, yeah that is me

it’s better than being a little pretty boy, yeah buddy

i am not a little pretty boy, i am a ugly toad

that will one day get what i want, yeah deviously what i want

people call me woosey, i can’t understand

why they can’t except, that i am a reformed man

i said to my voices out on the street

LEAVE ME ALONE YA ****, YOU RICH *****

maybe i don’t know how to fight, i don’t wish i did

cause violence doesn’t solve anything

yelling at the heavens solves things but it cause some hatred

because of the voices being jealous of your art and power

money money money will make me happy so i can go on holidays

money money money, will bring me joy yeah, to brian allan’s world

i want my voices to upgrade in me being nice

i am radically awesome dude
reflectionzero Apr 2014
Steam rises from the coffee mug
Sunshine peaks over the mountains
Smoke begins to fill up my lungs
I exhale what will never last.

Bearing marks of heartache he comes
Branded by the thought of concern
Barb-wire scuffed belts meet our hips
I release all that's left of hope.

Fields of yellow surround the road
Flowers that once bloomed in the rain
Faith so young in red lips so warm
I leave your still blue eyes waiting.

Combing fingers through your course hair
Caressing toes in sheets heavy
C*old noses on one another
I don't want to fall in love again.

-z0
Every line has 8 syllables.
Jonalyn cajefe Nov 2018
GOLDEN DAYS GONE BY

JONALYN CAJEFE

It was good to hear you laugh again

When i called you on the phone

For it took me back to days gone by

When the bushland was our home. 

The bush became our homestead

It mothered us as well

And we would laugh each day away

Till the years began to tell. 

Remember the station truck we bogged

In the middle of the night? 

When you stepped in a muddy hole

And sank right out of sight. 

The time that my bike's trew me

And i landed on my head? 

You stood around without a sound

Quite sure that i was dead.

But i slowly raised a dusty eyelid

And gave you a silly grin

Then you cracked a joke and caught the moke

And legged me on again. 

The time when a young bull chased me

And i stumbled and fell

Then it kicked me and it horned me

And stomped on me as well. 

Or the day when we took that bucker 

To the soft sand in the creek

Then ******* the two of us climbed on

We laugh for a ****** week. 

Remember when we met those Sheila's 

In a pub whilst on a spree? 

We said we owned a station 

In the Northern territory. 

That i was a young lord so and so

And you some Arab princess 

But i dont think they believed us

For we haven't seen em since. 

Or when we loaded our bike's up our pack

Getting ready for a trip

And a great red hornet came along 

And stung her on the hip.!

Our swags and bags all went flying

Straight up towards the sky

And ive never seen a bucker since

That could buck so ****** high. 

Yes they were good old days alright! 

Those golden days gone by

When we were mates together

Yeahh ****** good mates 

You and I...
~J. C~
Khoisan May 2022
$moke and acid
like ghosts in the rain
in the ghetto in the can
never to be seen
together again
on the streets
on the pain
blood in blood out
Dollar$ and white pipes
curses on *******.
Afrikaans to English
translation
Skollies/gangsters
on the Cape Flats.

— The End —