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 Jul 2015 tragedies
ji
Guilt
 Jul 2015 tragedies
ji
Guilt slits slowly my throat. As I gurgle anxiety, it watches.

"Just **** me!" I imploringly screech.

"I can't," it retorts coldly.

"What do you mean you can't?! End this agony! Stab my throat! Pierce my heart. Let me bleed and let me die!"

Guilt stared then, calmly, with a sigh,
"You're the one holding the knife."
**** this guilt.
Or **** me with it.
 Jul 2015 tragedies
ji
Failure
 Jul 2015 tragedies
ji
I tried to stop it once, but I failed.
I tried to dry them once, but I failed.
Because of you, I greatly failed.
And no worse a failure can be than I.

I have failed to stop my pen from
       continually bleeding your name.

*And I failed to dry these pages,
       soaked in thoughts of you.
 Jul 2015 tragedies
Sourodeep
The heat is always
trapped in the core
what splatters outside
is just for the show.
We judge the sun
by its bright rays
what we cannot comprehend
is the storm inside.
The pain when unbearable
makes even the mighty
mountains to explode
though it may appear
to be so **stable.
So much going on in the mind and in my heart, I fear what will happen if I loose it someday.
 Jul 2015 tragedies
ji
Once there was a maiden who has a gardener as her wooer. And the maiden love him too.

The maiden is affluent in money called Memories. And the gardener has flower bounties called Feelings he gives daily to the maiden. Every morning the gardener would knock on the maiden's door and hand her the most beautiful picks of Feelings his garden has. Some days it's a posy of 'I love you's'; or a nosegay of 'I miss you's'. Other days it's a wreath of 'kisses' and 'hugs'. But he knew what she likes best - it's the bouquet of the four. And every time, the maiden would insist to pay him with a Memory, but sweetly he would shake his head no.

Until one morning, she heard no knock on the door nor there were flowers on her porch. She waited and waited, but nothing came and he never arrived.

Days became weeks, there were no signs of the gardener still. The Feelings he gave her started to wilt, but many remain abloom.

"I wish the next time he knocks, he would hand me a bouquet of 'I love you's' with a coupling of 'I miss you's'," *she whispered between sighs.
"It's not my favorite arrangement, but those I favor among all."

And the skies seem to hear her wish. There were three gentle knocks on the door. She smiled and stood in front of it, wishing that it's really him. And it was.

But he had no bouquets in hand. No posies nor nosegays nor wreaths.


"There is a new damsel in town, and to her I chose to give the Feelings, but she don't seem to care," he explained. "My Feelings piled up on her lawn but she never opened the door."

He paused.

Then earnestly,
"My garden is bare of flowers, and I ran out of Feelings to give you," he continued. "But if you would allow, could you hand me a little Memory so I can restore my garden and offer you bouquets of Feelings again?"

*Then she gave him every Memory she has.
Someday I know you will run out of feelings for me. And maybe someday - to have it again - you'll return and ask for a memory. In case, my dear, just say. And I will give it all away.
 Jul 2015 tragedies
mk
too many poems
too many poets
describing the
same **** feelings
and yet
throughout the centuries
none of us
have ever found
the right words
// spent my whole life tryna put it into words //

thank you so much for the daily ♡
 Jun 2015 tragedies
ji
The Diver
 Jun 2015 tragedies
ji
My heart fell and sank deeply at the sight of you,
     like an anchor hurled into the sea.

And then you spoke and I'm reminded of the waves;

You're the sea and I'm a fish,
     the salty waters I long and crave.
You cast yourself in people's lives. Some swim, but you dive. Then you drown but don't die, and then you knew: even divers swim back ashore to survive.
 May 2015 tragedies
ji
Why, Oh, You?
 May 2015 tragedies
ji
I cannot breathe without your hello
I cannot talk, and I won't let go
I cannot focus, my dear, I love you so.

I cannot think, you cloud my head,
My heart can't pump,
It lies in your hand dead

And I better go to bed

But I can't sleep, darling your face,
When I close my eyes, I am dazed

And I can't cry, because I'm not sure if I should,
Or maybe I'm afraid - I don't know if I could

But I also can't smile
Because I breathe you;
I speak you
I think of you
I cry of you
'Cause you're not even mine,
But in case, my dear, I swear I won't mind.
 Apr 2015 tragedies
Asim Javid
The paradox of our time in history is that we have taller buildings, but shorter tempers; wider freeways, but narrower viewpoints.

We spend more, but have less; we buy more, but enjoy it less.

We have bigger houses and smaller families; more conveniences, but less time;

We have more degrees, but less sense; more knowledge, but less judgment; more experts, but more problems; more medicine, but less wellness.

We drink too much, smoke too much, spend too recklessly, laugh too little, drive too fast, get too angry too quickly, stay up too late, get up too tired, read too seldom, watch TV too much, and pray too seldom.

We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values.

We talk too much, love too seldom, and hate too often.

We've learned how to make a living, but not a life; we've added years to life, not life to years.

We've been all the way to the moon and back, but have trouble crossing the street to meet the new neighbor.

We've conquered outer space, but not inner space.

We've done larger things, but not better things.

We've cleaned up the air, but polluted the soul.

We've split the atom, but not our prejudice.

We write more, but learn less.

We plan more, but accomplish less.

We've learned to rush, but not to wait.

We build more computers to hold more information to produce more copies than ever, but have less communication.

These are the times of fast foods and slow digestion; tall men, and short character; steep profits, and shallow relationships.

These are the times of world peace, but domestic warfare; more leisure, but less fun; more kinds of food, but less nutrition.

These are days of two incomes, but more divorce; of fancier houses, but broken homes.
Found it :)
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