I cannot understand
Am I dreaming beneath the living?
Tell me if it’s just a part of my forty winks
Coz I’m rusted by chance when fully awake.
Why are dreams so large and
You forget it in a momentary climb?
The departed stories are so dear
That they never come to pass in life
The impossible happenings with strings
And things I’ll never find are so ideal.
The scars are reasoned and seasoned
But it was perfect when I was asleep.
I was dead to the world, totally ignored
Leaving one earth for a different one
Was so brilliant when I was buried.
But I realize I was not just dreaming
I was stitching them into reality,
Let me catch all my dreams
That they might never happen again!

It attacks you in the night ,
with swift breezes of coldness.
thinking of the possibilities,
that everything's changing.

It bites you in the heart,
that same feeling that stings.
even your most cold-hearted state,
can never run from this fate.

the questions, that gives cuts,
Leaves a feeling of being alone.
Now you are having a negative thought,
without any obvious reaction thrown.

Without a direct want, need,
moments seeking for comfort.
seeking for a small talk,
to patch all the given efforts.

Flee from this illness,
where cure is a mist,
of anti mallice,
eaten by the insecurity beast.

You do not want to involve,
because the hurting is true.
and the sad part is,
they misunderstand you.

Shadows you are playing,
but recovery is a mere imagination,
a wishful thinking it is.
save me from this depression.

pressured by the happenings,
all you seek is comprehension,
a wishful thinking it is.
save me from this depression.

Burned by the talks,
everywhere's misactions.
maybe you need to go,
If leaving can be an option

I can't seem to understand
These happenings
Scraped and leathered hands
Wipe away the stinging tears
Of this ardous transformation
Saying goodbye to everything
That no longer
Feeds me
Pulling from my old, tight skin
Growing into
The skin I was meant to be in.

There comes a time when all good efforts render our souls wounds laid bare.

there comes in our lives, a moment so long lasting and ever never failing to stretch on for an eternity, that one finds each minute second a lifetime for which to wollow and contort in our self abuse and humiliating pains.

In these moments of seeming endless script that dictate that we find everything wrong with the world of our making, we seem to realize the saddest value of self being remanded to the simplest of sensations , sensations devoid of gratification yet sweet and addictive in some parts as to understand what it is we are doing in such dismal environments of self.

These times when all of our best laid plans and stumbling prized findings, of unfolding adherence to what we perceive, as the world in its synchronic and dumbfounding way of expanding all we thought we knew of this place for which we act like we are the masters of.

and we find we feel like failures no matter what we find about us, supporting us, within us, without us, and opposing us.

Yet even in this seeming depressed and down trodden state as one would think to find the feelings too be, we find rebelliousness a constant even when dealing with ones self.

See, though I find myself a failure to many differing and inconsistent degrees in life and all I tried to accomplish, I found myself far more willing to lash out and strike the world with my own sense of abandonment, accusation and bewilderment, though knowing that it be justified and unjustified at times in its quantum 1,0, and both degree, I realized that I felt this way to myself as a constant.

See the truth is , I never failed in anything I was trying to do, yet feel that I failed everyone by even attempting to do anything. I knew nothing and know even less these days to some important point of reference lost ages ago, while seeing clearly the confusion cast like a net over the world and the confoundment over us all, though my intent was for all others to see what I could not.

Seems that I some how could never edit myself as diligently as others ensured to edit all that is of me that the world would ultimately see.

Seems when I would speak of things and venture out of the box and attempt to render a graphic image of mental consideration so as to convey and extrapolate what is vague and blurry to ones self for it to become a vast painting that could be envisioned and embraced for you and the world to expound upon, I was seen far less accurately and far more foolishly than I figured motivating to anyone, much-less to the soul of any matter for which we water the hearts of all good people to find a well spring to matter the most as to find the best avenue of approach, and thus solve in resolute that which we failed to consider raising up a flag pole to salute.

So do consider that even when I dash about all rash stricken and dashing the best efforts of mine enemy and supporters alike, I truly have attempted to cast a complete and rounded full spectrum light upon the very flaws and perfections of the you in me, as if to ask you to hold strong and truly the deepest regard for yourself and those you might not have found worth in before bumping into this nobody of me.

I am no hero, I am no wonder of the world to gave upon, nor am I a waste of time or effort to see the beauty in me, see, no matter what you feel you find in me, I know I find it in you as well as me, and I am truly doing all I can to see past all of my failings, so I can be reminded of all the good things of you in me.

Soon I will raise and be less broken and beat to a ****** pulp, and you just might be proud to see the you of me, and till then, please remind your self, you were worth it to me, to stand fearless in front of the world and all of the overwhelming things that opposed us in this endless and confusing happenings that make up this unending situation unfolding before us all.

I am a King, and I know this because I know you are as well and I can see that in the me in you, question is, can you see that in the you in me.

You were and are worth all this pain and cost that has defiled all I have ever held sacred.  SO try and not give up on what you think is worth it.

Chin Up, I am still here and working on it all, just reeling from some serious blows to the soul. smile, you are still beautiful you know.

I am undone -
resonating, thrumming
with feelings out of time.
Suffused with the scent
of orange, clove and cinnamon.

The house on Folgate Street
has me, whole,
powerless against an eternity
of mutating, shifting
happenings and moments.

Twice, the black cat followed me.
Dully gleaming fur
reflecting a landscape
of bunched bedclothes,
that it batted
then bunched some more.

Between the rooms,
landings captured me -
miniature palaces
hung with candied fruits
and mercurised pools
where I dove in naked longing
into both our pasts.

Huguenot shadows
writhed and climbed,
in faded effervescence.
The motes permitted not to utter
a word of breath.

With freshened eyes
I farewelled an age of deeds
in whispered thanks.

How long I stood at the corner
I cannot say.
Rising from a dream
has never taken so long.

I Know You Heard In The Sky
These  Wings Were Maid To Fly
Every Night I Pray That I Wont Take My Life
When I Awake I Want To Die
I Aplogize Okay
You Deserve A Reply
Its Difficult For Me To Have Company
Than Say & Waive Good Bye
I Cant Put You Through These
Tunnels
Of I'm A Stay Then Walk Away
Cos Your Heart Has Enough Pain.
I Been Using Awkward Things To Paint
I Want To Live To See Such Things As Dreams  Display
Obviously Thats Why My Body Has Not Sailed Away
My Heart  Is So Open
I Wont Owe No Hell To Pay
I Walk With ****** Boots
Through Roots Of Doom Each Day
Your Happenings  Are Happening
& This Is Just The Way
Pain Crys Rain
In A Scarf  Box Angle
Angels Are The Rainbow
If It's Sunny Why Am I Feeling
Funny Why Won't The Rain Go
Cost The Pain Wont
I Push  Every Woman Away Even Guys To
My Mother & Father  Ran Out Of Supplies  
I Never Had Somebody By My Side
It's Always Temporary
I Don't Have A Sanctuary
Its Very Scary
I Pick Up Vibes
& I Might Get Em Twisted
ALTHOUGH
I'M Calling Cost I'm Dying
Crying Giant For Eye Lids To Listen
Let Me Break Down My Vision
Remember That Night
That Awkard Light In My Kitchen
When I Was Fed Up With Ascension  & I Was Flipping Position
& You Said Kato Your Fine
Your Tripping
I Been There
I Know My Mission
Then Then Next Week Out Back Of Class You Confessed
You Felt Something Missing
I Guess The Facts To Your Path
You Slamed On My Ash
You Didn't Have A Grasp
On The Wishing
Wrong Or Right
Is Not A Point  Of View
Just To Get My Point Across I Had To Point A Few
Real Situations
I Refuse To Be Infused With Distant Visitation
& When I Speak Of Separation
I'm Blamed
& I Cant Take It
I'm Done Being Anxious
I'm Done With A Relations
Im Dead Or On Vacations

the room fills
with people wielding mics and cameras
attention towards the podium
where i am supposed to be

ive been dreading this moment
there's no bad news to be told
even on a positive note
moments like these are why secrets exist

i dont want to report my daily happenings to anyone
i dont need to inform you of every minor or major event
cut the mic, shut off the camera
nobody needs to know

im leaving, going home
i'll use the backdoor,
where noone can see me

sit in a window seal, steeling glimpses at your smile
while you face me, living in a day dream
both trying to figure out if this is real

sun shining through the clouds
smiles displayed proud
they always say
home is where your heart is
you know my favorite part is


sit'n in a window seal, steeling glimpses at your gleam
while you face me, bursting at your seams
both sewing fantasy, trying to make new reality
you have me leaving fantasy for my now and happenings



lock and key
for home and safety
between me and your guitar
you are always playing something

finally home. <3

Ode to *** and coke

I toast the old *** and coke
the after hour drink from one job to the next
sometimes not a break  just slip from one kitchen to the other
one paid  the other didn't well except for the drinks
Oh how  i adore  you *** and coke
wake up in the morning coffee in hand  blinders on
weary look  up on my face, each  morning other side of the wall from the coffee
lays her sleeping with  someone new

  my heart racing   anguished and  foolish , embarrassed at every turn.   I turn back to my room coffee in hand

watch the clock tick  until 2 pm  get on my scooter  to job number one a place really where I can be in my own world  until closing time, then off to  job  number 2  a repeat  of number 1
except for  in the waiting  after the shift was done a *** and coke  is to be in hand.
Tired and weary  every hour dusk until dawn.

A time where i felt no escape and no place to run and there at the end of the all shifts
old *** and coke  waiting for me to take her in my hands and sip and taste  
oh what grace...  the numbness sifting out all of  daily happenings oh so sweet.

day in day out  old *** and coke  came about..and met me in the night...

then one night  waiting for  old *** and coke  on second order
came across something new
after getting second drink looked over and said hello... several years ago
Now..both restaurants are gone,   things i trusted and beleived in  gone,
i have  moved, my friend stopped talking
everything has changed once again  
like the never ending circle

oh how i wish i had that *** and coke
the bartender knew  just how much  it took to drown the day in each and every glass
he would pour for me
i raise the *** and coke high into the sky and toast to its existence
for it would listen and ease up all the pain.

Ode to *** and coke

by Alan Spivey 1/20/2014

If I were to write a life-long poem
A line every day, so to put on display
The simple happenings of life
To weave verses together, an enduring tether
Of all life’s joys and strife
Would it have rhythm and beat? Skip and repeat?
Or would it just flow easy and free?
Would it charm or would it harm, this rhythmic yarn
That weaves the fabric of me?
Would this rhyme be a bildungsroman?
Charting progress, growth and learning?
Or would it compel, by whom it was written
To not publish but set it to burning?
Lumps and bumps, and dreary spells
Momentary lameness and drought
Every epic has its lows, as any writer knows
‘Tis what life is all about
Would it conclude with pride and nothing to hide
Confident and self-esteemed?
Would it spell to its reader, whoever at all
The tale of life lived and not dreamed?

pretending to have something to complain about.

what a sad existence.

words spilling over

like something beautiful.

poets who use periods a lot.


not distract him from his thoughts meandering

happens and happenings

misguided spins to music

calm yourself and breathe living air

tell me what it took

for a while, that was exactly what you wanted

a wrong description of the past

hereunder is served some poetry pouches full of love,
dear reader, stir them as you like,
if you wish you may crack them to pour into mouth,
you may smear them on your body
or you may sprinkle them on the ground
and then chant the name of god
with love and enjoyment

1.
the simplicity that rolls down
from the body of the sweet-meat
made by my mother

let it brings light
to our radish-red love-story

to hear or to notice
love
does not need
putting an ear on the wall
of the wall-street journal

the bottle could be filled
from the voice

when you go to fill the bottle
you would see that everywhere
the arrangement of picnic is ready

when i want to take part in that feast
my neighbours would drive me towards
the home  

although i’ve spent all my life
running behind the love

2.
who’s won the muddy-battle
was yesterday’s politics

my addiction is actually to cater
the pouch of love
to develop all vitamins
and all bathrooms

people say you don’t love
the claps of the rats

yet i’ll come down
from the branch of a guava-tree
as a wave-of-shopping-mall
to the lake of your love

now i’ll jump out
from this computer screen
to register a kiss
on your lips

don't miss to applaud
by clapping the hands


3.
the heart is half-sunk
in the window

to some extent
in the lipstick too

on the dinner-plate
there is the feelings of the lord

that means
i’ve to be burnt more
i do agree

i would become
the sculpture of khajuraho

this happenings may have been
the right search for love

on either-side of which  
a green is being worked out
by the nostalgic-cycle

whose colour-texture is very much harappa
which has too many geometric-memories

4.
an undertone is speaking
from within the solitude

now i’m in very much
distress

or i’m in love

i don’t know my love is what-for
may be that’s an arrangement only

so easily are those interactions
stitched with words

strenuous or effortless
in flight
initiated
with seclusion

but when in the sinking of the playfulness
i  write the games of the street-charmers


the birds again and again
pierce the archery

thus becoming ashes
through travelling

in time-gaps still
the audacity to compose poems
on you

5.
is it true love
or i do take it granted
that i’m in love

or i do love to think
that i’m loving

and there is
neither any welcome address
nor any opening song
in my love

my experience with heat of fire
and with burning pain
in the flames of water
is nothing less

6.
in course of burning
i look around

the chilly-plant  in the tob
planted in my won-hand
producing green-chillies

oh-** how sweet they are

it is no chilled-body
that has earned
my life or death

no remarkable mark
is endorsed
on the lotus-leaf

now easily some words
can be written
on you

i don’t know whether
those would be at all
some lines of a poem


7
someone falls in loves
someone makes love
love comes to some another

there is the far-off
whispering

at first she constructs me
then destroys rightly

i notice her
for the first time in six weeks  

the love
that writes
in the footnote of the tennis-ball
a desperate struggle for existence

within our skull
there is the love

or the midnight of the orion

the little squirrel asked now
are you in your seventies
or eighties

those houses with the coating of
the sky the air the light-and-shade
provide me with the presentation of
a wig and
a set of artificial teeth
8.
the love
that touches the hand
in drizzling

the love
that gets lost in the brandishing
grasses

would they want to inform
that the flowers don’t have any skyscraper

in the layers of the flesh and blood
of the detergents
as if  a whole human civilisation has been suffering
from suppressed pain

within it with the dry spell of
anger and cough
the time

had there been no feeding from the love
does the human civilisation stagger

9.
do you think those words
or it’s myself

whatever may you say now
i’ll travel within a great death
to die

rather after my demise i may tell
i’ve informed everyone …look

beneath the large evergreen flower tree
the game of light and shadow continues

beside those simple households
besides a high-head mobile-tower
what else would you like to be

is it a bath in the ganga-river is it a leaf
of the water-lily or it’s a king-cobra  
tell me

i would now make love
with that idea from you

10.
the  apparent golden *** that i thought
to be the underneath of a kadam-tree

in the dim light i can notice that
the stars in the sky are disappearing  

this session of poetry
is coming to an end

now where would i
go

to that little home

the home
a tiny word of 4 letters

within that home
the children are giggling
playing … and making funs

when i entered
with a tri-cycle in hand
for them

i have been perplexed
many old persons are waiting there
to shake hands with me

10.
almost most of my desires  
are very much hurt

to show it publicly
i wrap bandages
around all over my body

i keep on the stage-drama  

in our programme of reading poetry
tea is served twice
current has gone off for three times
for four times the mobiles ring

to pick up love  
some people think about returning back
from today’s dais to the ancient stage
of performing folk-drama

then they are also sympathetic
to my sufferings

12.
everyday
on my way to return home from the school
when my mom took hold of my hands

i could see in my body
the dancing of an unforgettable
aura

even now that mystical halo is walking
on the leaves of the trees
to fulfil my mornings

that wayfaring along the road
is ringing far and far-off

thus taking bath in every day’s  
dust smoke hue and cry

many such love
gradually gets aged

is it true
in the long run
i too
would be the ingredient
of a fairy-tale

just because i love
that paddy field

some time later
she will also become
human

13.
then she will make all of us  
join her walking

those inmost feeling
those memories meditations

the loneliness  and solitude…

sans the touch of the imagination of
a crater…
a creator…

this blunder…
this socially outcast white …

this type of uneven…
and irrelevance…

sume words
when peep in the mind
i surprise to see that
it’s ten to 2 at night

then in the balcony
my father is crying

he always notices some grave-yard men
in front of him

and sheds tears  

14.
after the dry leaves of the winter
fall in innumerable drops
the spring comes

the cover-face of spring means
a note-book of the rain-tree
letting float in the sun-water

and mr harry says that
this question of change
is a major pull

because all the unreal talks
you are delivering one by one

to keep pace with it
the ambulance comes at 10am
with a stale dead-body

in it’s shirt
is written the spelling of myself

i then sat on the grey volume
of the college-campus

in the front
a beggar from the war of waterloo
is passing by

over the dust of myself
with a faster pace
blowing is the thoughts of

ataraxia  
in the air… and air… and air…
    

15.

if your wishes colour silver
then do return back to the x-mass dancing
of the autumn

sound of whose far-off hoof-steps
digging so much soil of
story-weeds

i went into the nail-polish
with the proof of tea-cup
in my hand

there in the midst of lot of snow-flakes
and in the bed soft with the light of the candle
is now that honey-name more tarnished

now the atomic-howling
does not follow the rules of nature

so the rain-tree that seeks a-field-more-sky
with the hope to become king after the sun-rise

so that king is now waiting
in the grocer’s shop
at a stretch  for an hour

16.
does her well-wisher esse then thinks
to escape from the love-making whirl-wind

on the dry branches of the axis power
the new generation of the birds

rather stop a while there silently and listen
which song is hidden in the bronze-buddha

or in the school of the terracotta-horse

i’m now opening the coating
of the night-enamel to read this home

and behind the coo of dove
is smiling

the god of the penalty-kick

17.
sitting on an orange-coloured balcony
in an outsider lane
the green is writing poems
  
better than the face-powder

from this side all long the famine
i’m the priest of the
agro-based civilisation

still-then i think
why so much light of partiality
is on the body of the chrysanthemum

within the monsoon
in collusion with the  hair-band
now thousands of birds are born  

they can hear my
dry straws and twigs

whose hearing is the police
in so depth of the forest

don’t move the
dreadful resorts

one such photograph of the girls
who wakes up in the midnight

speechless…
unmindful …
destruction…

that is you now

i’m then in the spore
of the perfume-bounded body
of match-making

18.

who has lied in the box
made up of the temperature
of god

all on a sudden
there is a hue and cry
in the abdomen of the time
wearing a ***** pajama

actually that has been filtered up
from the voices of rock-songs

the roaming
of a fatigued traveller …

the lies
within their wishes
write my existence

and then run
to buy vegetables
from the station-market

so many lay-offs
come to the body of paper-weight

to listen to all those
is not improper

walking through the traffic-jam
gradually
this home becomes solely my home

one day the golden of
human

then it is i
who is you

and walking through the
monsoon

on either side of the field
it is all autumn

19.
when borrowing the religion of
the night-queen  
i fall in love

then is it real
that our mangos and jack-fruits  
can make the perfumed-soap
vigorously from the light of the
blood-line

i count the bells of the churches
ringing repeatedly

and piercing the image
of your prominent face

rounding through lots of old
the love becomes exhausted

and the love comes back
in the form of college-classes

there are you myself
and so many notes
of the body

The world is unfair, I tell you it’s true
The world’s always crying, the skies never blue
But in the world of my dreams, we all have a smile
We all work hard to make life worth while
But what we want never comes, without a fair price
And usually people give up being nice

So I'm sitting there with you, trying to solve
Why the world can still revolve
With all the worry, with all the pain
Has it thought, I can’t spin again
But then I remember all the good happenings
The rainbow after rain, the bird that sings

Then I realize the world isn’t so bad
Some things happy, some things sad
I sit there and weigh out the bad and the good
It turns out they’re equal, and with that I stood
I thought, I can change the balance of this
So I got up and gave you one, sweet kiss

Now the good outweighs the bad

It's a new dawn as the sun kiss the grounds
where wet dew penetrates the green grass
fresh happenings opens like a lotus flower
giving some purity from the murkiest pond

Ohh gentle wind of this pristine winter
embrace me in the song of the unborn day
let the disuse be the productivity that I long
let the grieve be the rebirth of new hope

Ohh gentle warmth of the sun ray stroke
shine the light and guide me in the day
let the vision of my happiness unfold
let the rocky cliffs clear to never return

Ohh gentle rain from above the clouds
wash the stained fuelled thoughts today
let the pride of life don the paradise
let the joy of life exorcise the yesterdays

Now I understand.
Both the insecurities of myself and the natural jealousies;
not of potential love affairs, but of friendships and spoken whispers
that are not for my longing ears to hear.
happiness, for harmony...
but pain, perhaps a nosy desire
to know the happenings and every little secret...
is it a vice or a inevitable wish?
For a best friend and lover to welcome me into their world as well?
This is the pain that will be harbored but never revealed
it is my own infliction to carry
and whispered to self
Every night

Neverending.

An important striking coronary heart is a large mind. No engage in on increasingly being compact. It is not necessarily sensitive or possibly undecided. The idea moves on, investing in existence, design, and it is individual skill to enjoy. A lot of people never possess a impressive cardiovascular system his or her heart happens to be broken or cracked. We tend to skilled being rejected, mistreat, and desertion as small children and therefore much of our mind seemed to be hurt. That seriously injured heart and soul is normally took forth into adulthood, re-creating even more unkind issues by itself. A real seriously injured heart and soul is prone to all of the yet unmet specifications about when we are children. Few on the lookout for whatever will probably cleanse it, in search of nurturance in other people, hard earned cash, nutrition, alcoholic drinks, person ill at ease, problems, or simply health problems. A harmed heart are unable to stay truly because it's in no way total. How do we alleviate a lot of our hearts and minds? To match the contours range from woundedness to make sure you boldness? How can we range from deficiency to successfully plethora? It starts off simply by making dedication to enjoy cheap mbt. A commitment to love will be an purpose to align along with advantageous electrical power. It is deemed an desire to help fix, to seek just that that could be best and greatest for ourselves as well as others. People construct good electric power as a result of augmenting nurturing head in addition to emotions within our-self. I recall a post a couple of news reporter what individuals interviewed ball umpires. The person quizzed a lot of these umpires the direction they known as a message an important football or possibly a reach. They sought after 2 umpires concerning means. Each of those explained: "I consider it the way I notice it.Half inch Your dog enquired a further umpire, "How will you call up baseballs in addition to punches?In Your umpire answered: "That message is just not something up to the point I say the achievements.Within You are umpire ever. Everyday the planet appears to be toss men and women and additionally celebrations at you. These folks along with gatherings are not unless you want to declare what they are. You create your experience. When you notice everybody by way of wounded big eyes, you will see damage, knock back, have no, fight, and also anguish. If so you see everybody via the little brown eyes of your vibrant center, you will note chance, prosperity, plus success. I could become dropped hundred moments. I may actually feel wounded and not worthy because of this. I can also wallow throughout these sensations, placing me personally further up for extra rejections, and far more cause harm to. I am able to segregate on my own to avoid being rejected. These choices are of worry about and tend to direct everyone back into additional experience involving terror. Fear is a quality of life that we're freely miserable on existence. Need We enough of rejection, to become injured? Shall we be held prepared to are living in different ways? Looking for adore, My partner and i set out to excuse people who supposedly damage people. I excuse me personally designed for permitting them to. I just excuse Lord and even everyday living to your battling I thought overall received to me. We modify my own comprehension, acknowledge that there is absolutely no these problem while refusal. There are only choices--the choice abandon; the decision to keep on being; evaluation of your situation suffer; luring be very glad or; evaluation of your situation take pleasure in as well as to dwell in anxiety. It's a lifestyle evolving option to pick out cherish in order about viewing the planet. This doesn't mean we tend to for no reason believe worries or even frustration. This that you frequently make contact with take pleasure in. Find ourselves in all the center involving wrath, of animosity, with unnecessary aggravation, involving sense pain, and we like to recollect. Beginning to see a experiencing is personal charged, I really first issue our typical reactions women together with happenings. Whenever i feel discarded, I actually take a step back because of personally and figure out just what is really taking. Now have I really established me upwards for the feel? Did I actually neglect to worth myself? Did My partner and i heal this unique other person for an point, a new prize that should be won or lost? Could I just treasure this individual and seemed to be My spouse and i no more than interested in preserving profiting their permission? Would My spouse and i benefits me more than enough to earn conclusions of what I want to, to mention buying and selling websites believed, to speak about your inborn to be? Does My partner and i connect my tastes, wishes and ideas, or had I really result in the body else the cause of the bond? A goal to like may cause people to get my own benefit. At the same time I actually price some by simply far from upon my personal may with them. Now i'm 100 % free thus is certainly all the others. We're liberal to feel special you aren't. Individuals unengaged to be with all of us or. I'm able to reveal to anyone as well as matter, whether it is organization and also particular: "You are free to be around myself or. If you select to not ever get, website need one effectively. Be sure you be around others, afterward we can get pleasure from each other as soon as we seem to be discontinued mbt.Inches The particular Divine Company is without any wish that you simply experience mbt shoes sale. All the Divin Reputation is without a doubt real really like.

You are an key phrase of this Position. A natural confident power is obviously in motion through you. When you get pleasure from personal life, understand the beneficial in yourself, observe the contentment other people provide you with, you will format yourself considering the natural favourable energy for the Whole world. As you may take more time admiring personally, existence, and other wines you will improve your moaning. The force area who emanates from you actually has become lesser, a lot more friendly. You start out to acquire a lot more caring happenings. We find our own stunning soul a pace at once. We see that through routinely declining that they are pulled straight into the depths regarding adverse pondering. We develop into conscious that a great inflow regarding adverse considering can be a thought attack most people establish on yourself. If my own assumed problems struck, I believe that to be able to on my own: "

I was not interested in this. I know of this video clip well before. That i has written the application, constructed them, redirected doing it, along with starred in it a century periods. The idea bores others; I'm not saying attracted.In I actually consciously modify my believed to something more productive, way more remarkable, significantly more on positioning with the Paradisiaque Profile in which I seemed to be produced. It requires bravery and courage person to love. Seems much better to put into effect really being suitable as an alternative to developing serenity; that should be small wait for community that will cater to our demands; to utilize your distress views on the masturbator sleeves considering that other folks do not suit the anticipations. It needs will to visit our selves with the help of sincerity and even consideration; towards pull away our stamina via transforming into a injured person; to prevent blaming. An important vivid middle existence in your getting. The application really wants to provide in itself, to be lifestyle amorously in addition to joyously, to reside courageously.

It is extremely strong that you may possibly fear it, bringing housing on your own battling plus ache. Appreciate is not to be frightened of. It is your importance. To control a vibrant soul is a lot like being home with your Self applied. You feel recognised on your side, blessed via the Divin Appearance, along with unencumbered with fright.
Relate Articles:
http://www.mbtofficial.com

It isn’t Paris but it is.

As the light washes
over late afternoon
walls full of us and
other people’s lives.

As the music charms
our old bones we can
add context to our list
of rolodex happenings.

As the shadows hint at
mystery beneath every
shining moment we can
justifiably glint and smile.

It isn’t Paris…but it is.



Tony Noon

The truth's not in the details
it's in the attitude
with which you start the methodology
Examine historiography
and you'll know
you don't really know
Still, the fault of teleology
is more important than
the happenings you use to defend your point
Cause the details your viewpoint binds you to
show that irrationalities cloud our brains
There's no fine line to reason
Isaac Newton was afraid of humans
and spent most his time as an alchemist
We still believe in some magick
but in its waning days
people are getting mad trying to find
other paths of core thinking
One's driving force
and escape from fearing death
No, not even science can satisfy the why
but those who think it can
contribute to the scary times
****** and the Nazis
and the all encompassing
forgetting of future atrocities
The 20th Century was
the most violent of centuries

It seemed like we have lost our polarity,
I see myself as the ultimate taker,
I've crossed the line, I'm a loser.

As my thoughts and feelings go random and futuristic,
doubts fill my inner shed, my body falling on a downward *****,
abusing self through never ending cigar smoke.

My feelings went cold without quick notice,
Seeking something fresh and challenging.
I failed my own trust. almost brittle, bending

Sliding down, I'm losing a trusted friend.
not seeking someone but I've aged a lot.
Just too old to play games.

Too matured to believe in this so called "In-time" Stories.
I am in an improved state wherein I go for the best.
Future's not like a blindfolded man in a bulletproof vest.

Can be short term but extreme happiness,
I want to hold confidence and presence.
Something I can't see, maybe a definite absence.

Something dominant I can't see in you.
Something you're in that I can't join in
Something ******* inside my head

Patiently waiting the world to turn one eighty
Still I am stuck without a progress.
holding into something I can't be best,

Living and dying with everyday happenings,
Hoping to get through this test.

You are ******* amazing! Great to hear from you so soon! Even better to grasp a part of your humanly self. It’s ******* amazing! It makes me feel like a ******* human! All ****** up in this existence!

Of relationships
I sail in an electric and magical connection one that never radiates. The dreams we had are not impossible.... not plausible. Let me draw the graph for you. The pie charts aced in cycles….. an assortement on the menu. Yet with you, there is a need to sit on your wing and soar above the skies a high. A part of me wished and wished. I feel this place with you is not only a mind **** but a **** ****.  On humanly reality lets jump on the coyote and feel the essence and touch the dreams. Welcome to the memoirs of  my voidness and shitness.

Relationships **** with a responsibility and expectations we lay on another human being. Yet, I smell your scent and forget to sneeze.I drawn to you as a bee is to a pollen. You are wow, a soul that wakes the goddess. I am truly hooked to this journey you traced.... **** ME!

Of Consumption
Your consumption makes you look like a narcissist. That elongated padlock you hang on the door.What in the world makes you think that I can’t understand you? Yet when one meet another like one, life changes dramatically. A heightened feeling of belonging. I lay enchanted by the ecstatic energy that is  over and ever-rising ..... am I ****** up or what? I shine your light, our light.Are you an angel or just a sheep with the devil's eye?The universe happenings HUH!

Of you
Cry the ******* tears and never stop being you. You are you. There is no need of sugar coating or hiding your existence, your uniqueness. Masking your concrete and your vulnerabilities.Roll your **** and I will get soaked in mine, keep the sinking quarry to yourself. Root oneself as the ******* string evokes.

Of Pain... *******!
No one ever planned for the hurt..... it's **** and it's life. **** the ache…… embrace the joy of the universe. Life in it's intricacies is a mystery. Then I am like ****…. Society tells us that one needs to be owned but I reject that notion…. Totally. Thanks for the openness! The warmest escape and embrace by a stranger. Somedays my logic ticks and ticks, then the doubt preys. I question the stream of differences. We creep as we fill the lines..... love and transmute!

...So Long....
What am I doing here acting like a baby who needs ***** changing….. **** this typing Tourette’s.  ****! The warrior hearts will fight through. The love they found, the visions stormed, the wall and obstacles we face. Keep shining the light as if a heaven guardian. The love is in the patterns, the dreams.... Be sure that this love will be hidden in a sacred place! Get a grip because I will always ******* love you...... *******!

Just fly and *******,
J

The summoning, when it came, I answered with whale song of my own
And all the water between did not distort the sound, the resonance
Of tuning forks at the same pitch, that offended most ears who heard them
Most did not; instead held cupped hands to their heads and heard only
The rush of their OWN beats and the flat la la las of no desire to interpret those alien sounds
The ocean floor held hidden things, broken by time and the wash of happenings that cracked and buried them, both
And in the shatterings of these brittle things I showed you neon fish
Darting through the ruined holes of ancient amphora, making playgrounds of their ruin
I showed you scrolls with ancient learnings, written in ink that proved indelible
And the meanings; I knew enough to draw a map with some destinations
Yet the road was only a suggestion of words I could not grasp, their translation lost in years of forgetting how
I asked you once, I am certain, in syllables that almost made my words
If anything could be formed from shards; you had no answer, I
Knew that all of the breakings shone back a whole in each, my
Me reflected a thousandfold, not broken but in pieces

For Robin & Emilie Stammers  

They say the universe is full of smells  
In fact tests on astronaut's suits  
Have indicated this much was true  
It seems- they say- that there are faint  
Traces of metallic smells you see?  
Not the stink of leather and bourbon  
Which emanates from my friend Robin  
Or the sweaty funk that lingers  
Where my obese neighbour goes  
There are- to put it quite simply-  
None of the rich earthy smells  
That one associates with life or living  
In the cold realms of outer space  
There are just the smells  
One would find in a science lab  
In other words metals and the  
Faint perfume of vaporous gasses  
Seeping from stars and planets  
In perpetual extra-terrestrial fartings  
Out there- where there are  
Strange cosmic happenings that  
Would blow your mind-  
The universe they say is positively stinking  
Reeking to high heavens  
You could say...  
Though of course, we can really never know  
For sure  
And that is what bothers us-  
Humans, in general, that is-  
We don't like being reminded  
Just how finite we are  
When we are surrounded  
By all that marvellous infinity

It happened because we let it happen.

It was made to happen and it did.

Because it happened to happen

we have to have more things happen

in order for the sum of all these
  
        happenings to be
                       advantageous to us.

Bottom line,

it happened, and now we happen to be what's happening.

It's an ongoing process,
   what's happening, and it can't cease now. Not for any reason.

Now is not the time
for anything else
       to happen but what
is happening.

What's happening now is unable
to not-happen because of all the happenings
    leading up to this
          unfortunate happenstance. Here
we, logically, happen.

If a hospital happened to be
    obliterated  
    as a result, it was only an

insignificant,

concurrent happening,

not our primary intention,

but it was necessary to happen.

If the children happened to get slaughtered, it was necessary to happen.

We have a right to have it happen and
                                  have it
keep happening,

   even if we made it happen
                          
                                   first.

there are ashes in my mouth

the residue of flaming words

that scorch the silk savannah of my mind

they drain the blood from my skin

as if my wrists have been opened

bleeding onto the pages before me

a great ******* of half-formed consciousness

these words, these flaming, fiery words

erupt in rapid torrents

of strange improbable happenings

their clatter grows louder, they yell

now I understand the nature of my curse

it  is to look for something I have forgotten

a beautiful yet tragic gentleness

like the femininity of my hands

that calls to me from across

the infinite blackness of space

there are ashes in my mouth

Through the ages of Pumpkin time
It all started within the Pumpkin patch
It went beyond the Halloween catch
Happenings involving a moonless night
Occurrence after another
Pumpkin’s from around the world were rising and turning into blood thirsty Zombies
They were stalking Human life
No time to explain in advice
I am too busy running for my life
The night is about survival
The Pumpkin’s are walking among us
They search and moan for a hearty meal
The pumpkin’s want to rejuvenate
This is the night of “Pumpkin Retreat”
Lock all your doors and keep your windows closed
It’s the Midnight hour
The pumpkins rejoice and not turn sour
In the eyes of pumpkin sight
Darkness prevails with no light
There is a reason for fright
The night is alive and the pumpkins shall strive
The pumpkins are coming for you, Good Night
Be careful, don’t turn off the light.

I think that when I’m older
I’ll think back to now
The happenings
Of a 14-year-old
And wish life was still just as simple

But for now
I can’t wait to be older
And it couldn’t come any sooner

I watch in a daze as he wets his lips
whets his lips on stones.
ones that pin me down
and cause sinking feelings in my gut.
--those acrid acrylic licks
painting stains on skin
immune to detergent

‘cause I’m threadbare
and he works his way through
the lesions in my sweaters
and he knows I like to wear things out
shabby little happenings
inside a purple room
that he burst into like a lightning bolt
“Heartthrob” on a Honda 75 CB

and I’m not naive enough for love, no
sir, check that coat at the door
but there’s some supreme
cinematic fascination
inherent in his walk and talk

and I want to encapsulate what he is
and forget what he is not.