The stranger in the in the black suit..who I seemed to know since ages now.. The man with a diminished smile, seemed like he had a taxing day to cuss..

We shared a bond of more smiles and stares and less words spared.. But in his eyes, he had the world locked like the pandora..
To open it was calamity, and to keep it all in was fatality.. but he was brave, went on burning his soul in the fire of the heist..

I always wanted to ask him about his plied, but I was scared of the explosion, he might endure his own Big Bang..

This stranger in the bus, the man in the black suit, who I seemed to know since ages now, was inordinately restless today. And I couldn’t guess why..
Flicking his fingers, frantic and hasty.. Teary eyes, who was once my persona for strength, put me to deep thought..

Deciding to trade a word today, this harmless stranger extends a clumsy mind, oh how he is like mine.. the trouble was little to wild,.. He was lost in his story.. and I was compelled to listen, pay attention.. because this man that I seemed to know since ages now, was peculiarly blue..

They said talking helped, but we shared more smiles, words lesser spared.. The lump in his throat did most of the work..
While I got lost in his unshared troubles, i learnt something tonight..

Melting cold nights, rumbling leaves at the height. Such loneliness and abandonment and the hurt that is caused, is all a game of our own minds.. they tell us of our existence, of the blood and flesh and the running emotions.. which would never loose weight.
And the stranger in the bus, the man in the black suit, who I seemed to know since ages now..

I finally sense him now. He held my hand, asked me one simple question.
"Why do we wimp ? Why are there storms and tempests inside our tiny hearts? Why do we feel wounded by the mighty loneliness ?"

How smoothly he filled all the blanks. The blanks inside my gut. The blanks inside me head in a rut. The blank in my existence. In my excitement.

I see the man in the black suit everyday now. In the mirror, in my thoughts, in my walk and talk and mindful tirades.
The stranger in the bus, the man in the black suit, who I seemed to know since ages now, is inside me.. he replaced my loneliness. After all, consciousness is a mystery less..

And now we look out the window together, and smile more often.. the storms seem sorted now and bitchy loneliness sits beside me, not inside me..
For the stranger in the bus, the man in the black suit, who I seemed to know since ages now, has taken shelter, camped in the void that was inside time..

Samruddhi Dec 1

And the moment felt so right
When he was holding on to her so tight
He could feel her heart racing faster and faster
And he knew that he was her only master
Knowing so he loosened his grip
And alas! That was the very moment she tripped
Roaming all around so damn free
She was like a bird, not settling for a tree
He came around and saw there was a flaw
That the bird now was going towards the Hunter's claw
He whistled and whistled and called her back
She had returned slowly but something still lacked
No longer did she desire to be held by him close
For her the danger and risks were her familiar dose!
Hoping that she could just stay longer
She knew even her master was no stronger
But that was their fate
And they had to accept it before it was late
For her wings were at stack
And the master simply couldn't hold her back
He had to let her go
Because she was meant to be in that flow
He set her free and let her flew up and above
Because he never had a cage for her..but simply tender love

I take my time to focus more,
Upon myself and what I am worth as,
Knowingly I have grown,
To become a new person,
I had changed so much within a year,
I am who I not once was when you had left me.

Here I am today,
2017 had the best of me,
By letting go of the past memories,
With the old love ones had gone,
The pain no longer shelter me,
I hope you know very well,
I've been better off without you.

Here I am standing taller than ever,
With my own roles,
My own goals,
Playing by my own game,
No longer a puppet,
Only becoming a master.

Larry Dixon Nov 18

I’m a puppeteer, I pull the strings.
Once I catch you, you are forever my doll.
You can hide it, you can even fight it, but I’ll always be able to make you do things.
You will always follow my protocol.

You may think you have a choice.
You may think you have free will.
But you will follow every word of my passive voice.
And I’ll use you to get my thrill.

If you ever leave, I’ll leave a string hanging so I can tug on it when you’re gone.
You may think that you’re safe.
But in the end you’re just my little pawn.
The path Is set for you and you cannot strafe.

For I am a puppeteer and I must confess.
I am the best at this game I call chess.




-Life completed, now leaving earth-

Meh, a very short one.
Eliah SolRae Nov 13

Losing is an art all can master,
Sometimes it helps, other times it’s a disaster.
You begin with small things,
A pencil a fork utensil.
You don’t notice at first,
But it grows on you,
Like time grows.

You start losing pieces of more importances,
A water bottle, a watch.
You pay little attention at all, you’ll find it amusing.
But you are just at the beginning of mastering losing.

You will leave a new pair of shoes on the bus,
Not think about it twice, not fuss.
Then it will happen…

You will lose something big,
An iPod, on the sidewalk,
A key to luck.

You will lose yourself in time.
Your love, your lifetime.
Anyone can do it,

Anyone can master the art of losing...

Luiz Syphre Nov 7

Tell Me...

Tell me that I'm handsome and I'll walk like a King next to you.
Tell me that I'm ugly and I'll lock in my room destroyed in shame.

Say you're my Master and I'll pray that you address me as your slave.

Say that I'm not fit as your servant and I'll cut my hands off as they are no longer needed.


You lie to me even once!, and your power of a God will be destroyed... squashed like the snake in your mouth!

Will the God be vanished over the slithering treachery of a snake?

Be it your will, as it is always my order, duty and non-negotiable command.

- Luiz D. Syphre ©️ 2017

Ako Nov 2

The garderner spread the butter on her bread,
The wind gently sways her golden hair,
The joyful maiden with a butter bread and beer
All those moments gone as the master said,
"Could we cultivate lives on this land no more?"
She said,
"No master, they spread their ecstasy. The soil has gone addicted, they have gone addicted."
The master contemplated,
"Was it that plague?"
"Yes, greed and ideology. The poison of soil and soul. Mix them together and the blood spills."

A contemplation.
hyanleng Oct 27

From prehistoric footages to present day highlights, evolution has taken its course.  The foundation of ability is now more than ever governed by the fundamentals of Ball Handling.  One dribble of a basketball is naturally aspired by thousands of body reflexes, guided by our habits of Ball Control, becoming so natural that the mind is at ease as we maneuver relentlessly between defenders relying on our distinctive muscle memories.   Ball handling is proven from era to era, those of legendary status have outshined its adversaries as the limitations of greatness are determined by one’s ability to handle the ball.  But to become a legend, ones must began by focusing on the basics—not the intricate.

Poetic T Oct 7

We speak to the master
                 but our voice
is like coins down a wishing well

Our hands clasped up,
           looking upwards to eyes
                   never staring
towards our failed gazes...

The shackles upon a minds
wrenched from what is clearly
      misinterpreted but still is clenched.

But there are a growing number
                    that see no master
and are slave to none...
      The shackles of eyes open...

There is a master and a slave,
      through mans voice the master
controls the herds..
           but now the cane has snapped.

Now our own voices are heard,
          not bowing to another's whim.
We are not slaves on bended knee...
      hands clasped as if we are in the wrong..

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