sometimes it feels like my mouth is stitched shut,
maybe to prevent me from saying the wrong thing?
but when the stitches fray and im allowed the luxury of voice it seems like wrong is the only language i know

How stressful it is....
When the child spilled water on tiles...
How tension today's mothers are...
When the child spilled milk on carpet...

These civilization has brought nothing...
But worries ...... anger to the society...
Man made luxury ..... its better to be away...
Simply Embrace Mother Nature ...and be Silence...

Don't you think....

she was wearing soft red lips
and blue eyes as deep as the ocean
and a shirt that read “THIS WILL DESTROY YOU”
and you should’ve known then but it was already too late
too late
too late
and you were already moving, already in motion
she made her darkness shine like gold.    

she was wrapped in silk and satin
that would have burned you if you tried to touch
and she was sitting by a window
waiting for you.
she wanted to keep her sadness close
and her vastness open.
she didn’t understand what it meant to be the moon
and you should’ve known then but it was already too late
and you were already moving.
she was a wolf, she said
and her knowledge could eat you
alive.
you, on the other hand
have always been a deer.

                        she spoke with a voice of lush and luxury
and wore her jacket over her shoulders
on the first day of spring.
her enigma was thrilling
and she scared you
almost to death
but not enough to make you leave.
she had hands of ice
and the breath of heartbreak.
she still remembered how to laugh
however cynical.
she was just as lost and dismembered as anyone else
but knew how to hide it
among sharpened knives
and glasses of red wine.
she loved the thought of drowning
but yearned to be saved
and asked you for help.
she let you in
but she was a self-proclaimed goddess
with secrets deeper
than your lungs.
she was water
and you have always been air
and you should’ve known then but it was already too late
and you were already moving.
the whole time you moved within one word
and that word carried you to places she never could:
chance.
she tried to warn you
she knew she couldn’t be the person you loved
yet somehow you still did
somehow you still did
(she) did still you, somehow
somehow you still did.
it was already too late
late too, already, was it?
it was already too late.
before you even met her
before you even saw her turn around in that coffee shop
before her smile
before her accent reached your ears
before your arms touched
before she read her writing to you
before she opened
before she placed her hand on your back
before you watched her walk away down the dark city street for the first and last time
before you met the body behind the screen, you did
you loved the words.

I sat on one of the brown seats and watched a lavish show...
Singers, dancers, lights, cameras....
Flowers, costumes, colours, and viewers...
Everything was perfect...
As it should be.
However, a sudden movement crossed my eyes.
Behind the curtains, I saw a girl peeking inside.
She had two tiny ribbons on her unkempt hair.
And a shabby dress she had put on.
Her twinkling eyes and naughty nose
Were the only jewels she wore.
The angels on the stage were a facade...
And here, this girl was an angel in herself.
Shining...smiling...and wondering.
◆
◇
◆
◇
But she was driven away...
As always...
After all, she was destroying the perfection so perfect.
But, how didn't they realise, she was the only perfect piece out there?!
Her beautiful eyebrows bend themselves downward...
And her lips curved on the wrong side.
She dragged her feet and went behind.
My eyes were back on the stage where everything was so not true...
I saw people hide their pride behind the generous song of the flute.
Then, a gentle wind swept past the hall
And the curtains started dancing about.
My eyes went back to the spot where that angel stood.
I noticed, that behind the curtain something moved.
And on looking closer, I saw the angel swirling around and around.
She danced around with a laughter I could only see...
She tapped her foot with the rhythm which was her's only.
Her joy was not her's alone.
As she had given a share of it to me as well...
Her show was the perfect of all
And more so bcause of her jewels so pure...

Big ships, small ships, yachts and dingeys
Floating across the mighty sea
Carving their way, displacing their weight
To keep afloat the Captain and First mate.

Old ships, new ships, schooners and cruise liners
Have crossed paths throughout the ages old
Once to explore, make claim, pirate and fight
Now to wine and dine on a luxurious bite

Salted beef, rock hard bread and weevil-friendly biscuits
A 3 course meal fit for Old Salts alike
Weevils & worms and bugs of all kind
Along with sparse portions of meat, you might find

French wine, filet mignon, sushi and pastries
Buffets and fine dining, variety is key
All you can eat, whenever you'd like
No chores, no work, just eating all night'

What a contrast exists between these two worlds
Only 2 to 300 hundred years apart
Once grimy, risky, arduous and fraught
Now fancy, lazy, and much to be bought

What if the Old Salts could teleport to today
And live aboard our floating hotels?
With no masts to climb or sheets to tend
Would they break or would they bend?

I suppose that switch would be easy enough
But send us back to Pirate-ridden waters
You'd be sure never to hear from us again
Swabbing the deck would **** us alone
Not to mention the food and disease of back when.

- BPW 
Dec. 11, 2013

sometimes it feels like my mouth is stitched shut
maybe to prevent me from saying the wrong thing?
but when the stitches fray
and im allowed the luxury of voice
it seems like wrong is the only language I know