i saw a little boy
in old , muddy ,broken shoes
playing with a plastic ball
i felt said for him
i went to bazaar (market)
bought a new pair of shoe
i gave him and told
"take this, wear this ,now its yours"
little boy quickly took out them from the plastic beg
he turned and asked
are you GOD ?"
i said "no "
he said " then you must be the friend of GOD .Tomorrow i asked God for a new pair of shoes "
he left ,and went to his home
now i understand
" it is not difficult task to become friend of GOD "
may you be one of his friends
such a beautiful instrument.
so slim with body.
smooth sound yet at the same time
could produce a feeling of unsettling suspense.
The only thing that could put me to sleep
as a baby.
Weird how I fell asleep to music that was meant to put you on edge.
Now I know how to play and it seems like it's
the only thing in the world that
I can control.
Woven upon the stiches of elegance
both hang upon the fabric of eternity
the brother and sister of motions.
One collects on the luminosity of
daylights shimmer, bringing illumination
to those below, wakening those of
sloth motions, gliding upon waters deep.
Birds glide upon the refection's of the skies
refraction, like gliding in the heavens but
only notable feet from the shallows of sea.
Then as one delved beneath the waves
another woke to the rhythmic musical of
the waves motions and lingered silently.
Whispering her light upon the darkness,
not to suffocate it but to silhouette its beauty,
Not every can be seen by her brother now clear.
There are times when one will playfully linger,
so they can see each others majestic stance.
Then there is the loneliness lingering on
every sunrise and sunset moments hide away.
Two opposites reside in the heavens, one
of light one of illumination of a different kind.
Brother and sister, a cycle on our finite lives.
Othello, your pearl!
Don't let it slip from your hands.
For what you claim not to weave
A spindle of death.
Don't fear the fault of your star!
Nor the fruits of death.
The sweet strawberries
Upon sheets of white and black,
run from Orange fate.
It's such a shame
You had to grow up
Faster than the others
Becoming a wise old soul
When you should've been
A kid learning ABC's on the playground
Being tucked in by your parents at night
You should've been
Enjoying fairy tales
How to survive
In the nightmares
That became your reality
it's a funny thing
only applying to the things i love
when they are forced upon me
give me a packet of mathematics
burden me with backbreaking tasks
hand me a bowl of poison
and i will gladly get it over with--if only to cease its hold over me
yet compel me to read
oblige me to complete my part in a choir
and i will fight
languidly stubborn until i am forced into compliance
to do what i should love
simply because it is forced on me
i will fight it off
it's my own funny little brand of sloth