the man with the long hair caught my attention today.
something inside of him was luring me to stand by his side.
the weight of the captivating man's ambiance was suffocating.
i was drowning in the feeling of his life that surrounded me.
what was so special about the man with the long hair?
it's as if power was raveled in the beautiful mane that lay atop his head.
when our eyes met for the first time, there was something holding me there. Something's preventing me from pulling away.
there was something about his stare that was so bewitching.
i suddenly desired to know this man.
i longed to hear his story; to know why i felt so biddable just from his aura.
i turned to ask his name, but alas, he was nowhere to be seen.
and i was left standing in the middle of a busy street,
wondering how my life will be complete
without the man with the long hair.

I thank you
Swallow my mind whole
Leave not a crumb
Consume my words
Know my grief
Watch as I sink
Each cry for help
Every bit was for you
Oh sweet audience
How I do love the spotlight
Little candles burn at stages edge
Let me not sear at flame

In 1914 when the cold wind blew,
Through no-mans land with a familiar tune.

In two opposing languages,
Both sides sang,
In perfect harmony,
Their voices rang out.

Two brave souls who started it all,
Risked their lives for a game of ball.

Germany and UK played side-by-side,
Enemies who became friends despite their divide.

A Christmas truce and a miracle of war,
A handshake that would become much, much more.

My mind is filled with scraps of poetry
The words he owes to me
I will never get back
The fact I failed to submit
Shows I'm only bones
And the range of the water
I have been given
Has out lived the living
But the waves of the yesterdays
Like blue days of a dream
The scheme of things have played out
My food for thought
Was laid out
On the couch where we said
Monsters hide at night in bed
And tell you to give up the dream
Of winning faith and dying clean
And if the thing of things must be
The living clean
The way I live
Or never have lived
Could not hold up the way of the shiv
And if the living hope to live
Or love or all
Then washing over once was dry
Will flood the eyes of beggars choicey

"You don't understand what it's like to be a parent.
Until you become one."

"But, I know one thing, and only one thing for sure.
I"ll never force my dreams on my kids."

My stories are sad, I am not.
They are like the most beautiful plots
that tragically ended,
in gunshots.

©rajgomes