"headstrong" poems
Oh! a bare, brown rock
Stood up in the sea,
The waves at its feet
Dancing merrily.
A little bubble
Once came sailing by,
And thus to the rock
Did it gayly cry,--
** clumsy brown stone,
Quick, make way for me:
I'm the fairest thing
That floats on the sea.
"See my rainbow-robe,
See my crown of light,
My glittering form,
So airy and bright.
"O'er the waters blue,
I'm floating away,
To dance by the shore
With the foam and spray.
"Now, make way, make way;
For the waves are strong,
And their rippling feet
Bear me fast along."
But the great rock stood
Straight up in the sea:
It looked gravely down,
And said pleasantly--
"Little friend, you must
Go some other way;
For I have not stirred
this many a long day.
"Great billows have dashed,
And angry winds blown;
But my sturdy form
Is not overthrown.
"Nothing can stir me
In the air or sea;
Then, how can I move,
Little friend, for thee?"
Then the waves all laughed
In their voices sweet;
And the sea-birds looked,
From their rocky seat,
At the bubble gay,
Who angrily cried,
While its round cheek glowed
With a foolish pride,--
"You SHALL move for me;
And you shall not mock
At the words I say,
You ugly, rough rock.
"Be silent, wild birds!
While stare you so?
Stop laughing, rude waves,
And help me to go!
"For I am the queen
Of the ocean here,
And this cruel stone
Cannot make me fear."
Dashing fiercely up,
With a scornful word,
Foolish Bubble broke;
But Rock never stirred.
Then said the sea-birds,
Sitting in their nests
To the little ones
Leaning on their *******
"Be not like Bubble,
Headstrong, rude, and vain,
Seeking by violence
Your object to gain;
"But be like the rock,
Steadfast, true, and strong,
Yet cheerful and kind,
And firm against wrong.
"Heed, little birdlings,
And wiser you'll be
For the lesson learned
To-day by the sea."
7k
–When a boy thinks of a girl–
his cheeks don't go red,
nor do his pupils dilate
but his heart beats as fast
as a horse's gallop in race
His lips strongly tremble
in the midst of conversation
his legs that won't settle
due to headstrong infatuation
her beauty overwhelms him
her cold hand warms his heart
her gaze, like Medusa's
a romantic work of art
his thoughts full of appreciation
for whatever form she may have
a wonderful mem'ry, imagination
a thought that can't be grasped
his thoughts he can't express
his mouth he cannot open
his words he can't confess
but his heart, ť was always broken
but all this is not really
'bout when a boy thinks of a girl
because in these words you can tell
that he had always loved her.
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 7:09 AM UTC
The root
Of ambition
Is ambivalent
There's no “one cause”
No one causes
A man
To make life decisions
In a day
It takes
Much more
For
A man to be successful
And real
With his inner-self
Accepting
The cards dealt
With the stamina
To play through
Exercising his will
With the feel
Lingering in every pore
Unsure
Of obstacles ahead
Headstrong
Through barricades
Bearing the bruises
Trampling
Over your own
Feet
Defeat
Seen in battle
But the war’s on
And the war zone
Isn’t limited
To a few
Years
Like ages 19-22
Whose to do
Worse
Who has more
Money
CARS
Clothes
And hoes
And whose vision
Is so small
To tack them
with success
All in all
And attack those
Who lack the
Wills
To move forward
And ignorantly
Attach it
With a phenomena
Of
Your unknowing
Root of ambition
Can spread
Like weeds
And weeds
Can **** ambition
Or spread
Like seeds
How many men
Dive
Head first under the influence
Or rise above
High
From the same drug
Barack Obama
Michael Phelps
William Shakespeare
Bill Clinton
Lebron James
Pablo Picasso
The Beatles
Jay-Z
Bob Marley
Conan O’Brien
Dr Francis Crick. (Nobel Prize Winner)
Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Salvador Dali
Victor Hugo
Kareem Abdul-Jabar
Snoop Dogg
Dr. Dre
Stephen King
Just to name a few
Maybe
Just maybe
It has nothing to do
With success
Or you.
Sep 30, 2010
Sep 30, 2010 at 1:11 AM UTC
And some time make the time to drive out west
Into County Clare, along the Flaggy Shore,
In September or October, when the wind
And the light are working off each other
So that the ocean on one side is wild
With foam and glitter, and inland among stones
The surface of a slate-grey lake is lit
By the earthed lightening of flock of swans,
Their feathers roughed and ruffling, white on white,
Their fully-grown headstrong-looking heads
Tucked or cresting or busy underwater.
Useless to think you'll park or capture it
More thoroughly. You are neither here nor there,
A hurry through which known and strange things pass
As big soft buffetings come at the car sideways
And catch the heart off guard and blow it open
4.3k
Oh, what a horrible night
Definitely not late December back in '63
These are the Frankie valleys of my days
Night is always black
Night always comes back
Night envelopes us in the abyss
And makes us cherish light
Heightening our senses
To help us handle the unknown
When my days are filled with stimulation
The stillness of night sinks me
Into quicksand mixed by
The current of my mind
Overflowing into the sands of time
And reminds me
Of the stillness of my eyes locked on you
Or the stillness of my actions as you walk by
Or the stillness of my heart when you call me a ******
My frustration boiled
Night's black tar
So I bottled it up
Placed it in a syringe
And medicated my love with darkness
I worked my first job at the local Kroger's
People would leave with everything they wanted
And I'd push their empty carts back into the store
The artificial lights of the street lamps
Lacked warmth
Their hypnotic buzz highlighted
The stillness of night
Making me wonder if there was any way I could be happy
Similar to when activity would die down in rehab
A pitiful wretch left to his faculties
I'd stare out the window
Into the concrete chasm
And wonder if happiness could be found by someone like me
Night continues
Night confines
Day comes
And goes
Night returns
Night reburns
Night relearned
I really hate to see the day come to an end
It'd be alright if I was on the bay with a pen
But I live near sulfur vents
Inside a searing tent
Where the hellacious temperature rises rapidly
Despite the absence of the sun's warmth
The hellfire of night
Reminisces of those
I have thoroughly failed
And my overwhelming remorse
As I stare out my window
Into the bramble ravine
I wonder about the possibility of contentment
The stillness of night answers me
But at least now I can open the door
And charge into the night headstrong
To search frantically
For someone who
Erases my history
And writes my future
And makes me wonder if I could ever be happier
Jul 11, 2017
Jul 11, 2017 at 4:13 AM UTC
My Principles Are Not For Sale!
This poem is dedicated to all those secret, righteous souls, the silent minority (and heaven alone knows who they are) who guide their principles of conduct, whenever their evil inclination challenges them, by the credo "G-d is watching." They do what is right, unimpressed with what "everybody else does." They readily hold their lip, and bow their head to maintain this "peace" in G-d's world. To them, know, this is their holy sacrifice--a sacrifice to G-d, on his very Alter (our world).
Surviving adversity, it is really against the odds
that you'll still stay normal with your full deck of cards
Like many a cause that you know have a price
where principle is concerned, you're ready to sacrifice
There is right and there is wrong, you don't need to belong
your principles are just, they have made you headstrong
No rhyme and no reason can sway you from this cause
because you've pondered its justice and have found no flaws
Shouts of anger and negativity galore
you are now tasting just what is in store
What words could you offer to those limited in thought
when all is finished, would it be your wisdom they sought?
Words of the heart enter the heart, when all else fails
it's not a bad place to be, when addressing another's ails
To overcome adversity there is not always one solution
but it can never be found in starting a revolution
In final sum, it seems like the rule of thumb
better to negotiate that peace and then some
For the alternatives are all to clear
why perpetuate hatred and fear
so put aside your differences
and find a world wishing to care
Jul 31, 2015
Jul 31, 2015 at 9:39 AM UTC
Headstrong, yet bitten by the snake of narcotic charm...
As the venom flows, your dreams slowly begin to die
The goals, the passions, the visions begin to change
The personalty of the passionate man turns to selfishness
The confidence turns to self pity from the demon within
What was, what is and what will be, turns to nothing
The morals turn to lies, the caring turns to taking
This narcotic charm transfers itself to a necrotic death
Your family, your friends, your love, have slowly given up
You've hit rock bottom and still look for the snake's charm
It has been your pet for so long and you can't let it go
Your only have two choices, to slither in it's hole and die
The second is the most important decision of your life
Mar 13, 2015
Mar 13, 2015 at 4:48 PM UTC
She leaves a note in the morning after, signed with her name because he whispered the name of another woman while he was inside her.
She leaves a note written in her bright red lipstick because he said it made her lips look like cherries, and her mother had taught her that the fastest road to a man’s heart is a good meal.
She leaves the note in her lipstick because he didn’t compliment the dress she wore on her fragile body, the shoes she wore on her dainty feet, or the heart she wore on her sleeves;
He complimented the lipstick she wore as a note written on his mirror; an instrument of multiplication, she had to face it all, and face it twice. Twice the bed frame, twice the sheets, twice his sleeping body, and twice her face.
What she likes the most about the note is covering a part of the mirror, and a mirror is never a friend.
He takes a leap of faith and jumps headstrong into a relationship that he knows will drown him.
He was named a champion in the 2015 Olympiad for swimming;
he lost his golden medal but the whiplash on his heart when he delved into the waters will always remind him how salty it tasted.
He sinks into an abyss of intensity that he cannot dry out no matter how long he sits near the lonely candle next to Madonna’s portrait.
He soaks in the glistening sunlight; water was never his friend.
She brushes her hair every evening and every evening she reminds herself that she needs to brush off her family’s rejection.
He trains everyday and every day he reminds himself that his heart is also a muscle.
They do it in the dark because it’s easy to love another and scary to see yourself.
Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 3:53 PM UTC
I dream of a society
Where the ideals of beauty
Are less focused on superficial concepts like one's waistline
Or how decrepit their smile lines made them appear
But rather one where the focal point of unanimous adoration is,
As corny as this may sound,
One's morals and where they land on the gradient of human compassion
In this utopia,
The elderly aren't seen as catalysts for repugnance and a wrinkling of noses
But rather as symbols of eruditeness and beauty
The type of beauty that influence or money can't obtain
And it may be conceivable that instead of wasting my days squandering over my physical appearance,
I can just fritter away the days
Strumming my ukulele along to the tune of my American dream
For I have yet to actually awaken from my adolescent slumber
Breifly enough to grasp my dream from the bubble floating above my resting head
And nestle it securely in my pocket
So it doesn't forgo me
In search of someone less complacent with bewilderment about their future
Who dreams of social and economic prosperity
Instead of someone who's apathetic at best about whatever career choice they've chosen for the week
Maybe that's just it
That maybe I don't want the conventional American dream of fame or fortune or recognition
Is it feasible that maybe my American dream isn't to rise from sqaulor into a soulless mansion
Whose corridors boast success
But lack warmth and presence?
I suppose that my American dream encompasses more than just America itself
It lives in the eyes of every human being on the face of the earth
It's nestled in the gaze of a starving child
And the stare of anyone who's ever felt a tongue's razor edge
And all I'd have to do is delve into their eye sockets and plant a seed
A seed of hope and compassion
Or whatever I deem fit
Perhaps I just want to shield myself
From the world's disapproving glances,
Those fleeting moments of eye contact that convey condescending judgement
Maybe I'd just like to make a difference to things sans the media’s snide opinion
But despite my juxtaposition to society's critical assessments,
I know that I can't run away from my fears or problems
So maybe I dream of a society
Where I can remain headstrong even in the face of opposition
Because I'm aware that not everyone's going to love each other
And spout sweet nothings about peace and understanding from their hind quarters
So maybe I'd like to help be a driving force
That wards off the world's shadows
So the sun can continue to shine on my American dream
Aug 14, 2012
Aug 14, 2012 at 11:14 PM UTC
My Principles Are Not For Sale!
This poem is dedicated to all those secret, righteous souls, the silent minority (and heaven alone knows who they are) who guide their principles of conduct, whenever their evil inclination challenges them, by the credo "G-d is watching." They do what is right, unimpressed with what "everybody else does." They readily hold their lip, and bow their head to maintain this "peace" in G-d's world. To them, know, this is their holy sacrifice--a sacrifice to G-d, on his very Alter (our world).
Surviving adversity, it is really against the odds
that you'll still stay normal with your full deck of cards
Like many a cause that you know have a price
where principle is concerned, you're ready to sacrifice
There is right and there is wrong, you don't need to belong
your principles are just, they have made you headstrong
No rhyme and no reason can sway you from this cause
because you've pondered its justice and have found no flaws
Shouts of anger and negativity galore
you are now tasting just what is in store
What words could you offer to those limited in thought
when all is finished, would it be your wisdom they sought?
Words of the heart enter the heart, when all else fails
it's not a bad place to be, when addressing another's ails
To overcome adversity there is not always one solution
but it can never be found in starting a revolution
In final sum, it seems like the rule of thumb
better to negotiate that peace and then some
For the alternatives are all to clear
why perpetuate hatred and fear
so put aside your differences
and find a world wishing to care
Jul 24, 2015
Jul 24, 2015 at 6:32 AM UTC
Dark thoughts come flying in like a storm.
The way the wind takes me away.
The way the lightning paralyzes me.
I watch the darkness crawl into my arms,
knowing that they're only here to bring harm.
I wish I can go back to my happiest days,
when I never felt pain or darkness haunt my dreams or my soul.
Where are the stars that used to guide me?
They used to shine through my eyes,
telling me that I'm never alone.
They seem to move on, forgotten me.
I overthink too much,
that it's the end.
I don't know why I let it dig into me.
Small things become big things.
I always hoped that one day someone will embrace me into their loving arms.
Understand every dark thought coursing through my mind.
Feel my heart through their ears.
Face the reality that I'm not perfect.
I'm not a robot built through metal.
I sometimes bottle up myself,
I sometimes smile like I'm okay, but sometimes I'm not.
I can feel weak, but I know I'm strong.
I fought through the storm before,
I know what it feels like to want to give up.
It's such a strong urge, but I don't give in.
Because I have people counting on me, looking up at me, admire me of who I am.
I'm a good person for helping others.
I let them know that their not alone,
They let me know that I'm not alone.
Sticks and stones won't break our bones.
We are headstrong!
~Niko
Apr 5, 2017
Apr 5, 2017 at 5:28 PM UTC
oh, beautiful one,
with the bedroom eyes
headstrong queen
of the crimson skies
seduced by kisses,
passion--lies
when, for you, will the
feather--Ma'at--rise...?
a gray sylph, a
secret slave sighs
in the wake of the
master who flies
to soothe, to love,
to elicit highs
with monochrome wings
make and unmake ties
to what end?
when deception dies
all that's left
are our broken cries...
Jun 25, 2015
Jun 25, 2015 at 12:19 AM UTC
Her greatest fear was
going color blind,
invoking domino effect,
she embraced rainbow colors-
whenever a chance she found.
Now, she walks at the front
as if she is the official bearer of colors
in our frenzied blueberry hunt,
up in the high ranges of Western Ghat's
tropical rain forests.
Our nostrils are special,
"colors we see, make us madly sing"
chants rend the air when-
fragrance of ***** blooms wafted in the air.
"Just like the smell when python opens mouth"
said a voice, to the uninitiated,
"Quit white, paint everything coal black,
or is it the other way round?"
"This place is magical can't make a choice"
"Look! I found a serious irregular lake down there"
"I didn't realize I was walking in rounds, around a closed mall"
"White light is a cheat, pixie laid us is in the village green"
"Y'll fall down"
"Green was what i asked for
got thick,red, gooey mud"
"Why panic?"
"Hey meet Mr.Yellow smile,
kiss him a pretty, magenta
***** thought, good night"
"I've a deep blue psyche,
in nightmares I see ***** whales"
"Wounded bleeding heart,
she was nursed back to health
it beats me,
she limped back to her old green monster"
"Hear that distant drums?
brick red monster of the woods
mating with a black cat"
"A ritual of the tribes?
is it meant as a crude joke?"
Sitting under a tree shade,
I hear for the first time in my life,
a white ant's dark wintry song,
lilting, it spoke about the life
as the queen ant's *** slave.
**"Hey love this ***** magical feat,
anything is possible,
how reality takes a beat"
**** it, three times over,
on the bank of the river, then in water.."**
"Blue grass, blue grass
sing all the way up to the mountain pass,
where ***** plants grow thick like ***** thoughts,
a nightingale in funky dress
singing ***** songs and regale all"
"That lush lass, her hair tied with a red bandana
is a smart *** **** her"
Someone screams in delight,
evening spreads a magical light,
more laughter, catcalls,
the sassy chick just LOL
Pass..pass
A big headstrong hornbill, surveying the scene,
gives a mating call
the hillside reverberates with its sound.
(C) K.Balachandran
[email protected]
Jun 10, 2012
Jun 10, 2012 at 7:19 AM UTC
Her name was Artemis.
She had a love.
Unrequited.
Not unheard of.
His name was Janus.
He was headstrong.
Never known this love.
And hadn't known her long.
He said Hello
So simple. So sweet.
It blew her gently
Right off her feet.
His shine was effervescent.
Her eyes aglow.
Her heart was on fire.
He didn't know.
All she wanted
Was to make him stay
But he was in flight
She had to find another way
It happened so fast
It flowed so fluidly
Their tale was painful
I tell you. It ruined me.
He was with a girl.
He stroked her hair.
Caressed her face.
They were a pair.
Artemis died
Inside that night
Clutched her soul
As it lost its fight.
She only wanted
The pain to end
I've been there before
I understand.
I didn't resist
When she took me here
To the open water
The blue so clear.
At the edge of the bluff
Hand in hand
I'd do anything for her.
My mirror-twin sister, my best friend.
May 17, 2013
May 17, 2013 at 6:01 PM UTC
A perfect man for me was never moulded by a box,
A box that screamed multitude of labels
To satiate the chaotic minds of society,
A belonging judged by feudality, no rhyme or reason required or questioned.
A perfect man for me was never measured by material things,
He gives abundantly by just being around,
An illuminating source of comfort on the other end listening,
Empathising and leaving a trail of laughter that makes me fall even deeper.
A perfect man for me was never masked crusader (okay, maybe Batman sometimes),
He is maskless for the world to bask in his genuity,
No bounds or limitations set on his acts of kindness and love,
Selfless and generous with his time, blind to any creed or pedigree.
A perfect man for me was never one to run away from problems,
Valiantly facing the raging bulls head on,
Inner strength personified by his poise and determination,
"I will get through this unscathed and no one will stop me".
A perfect man for me was never an owner of a cold crackled heart,
Headstrong, gallantly keeps the family together in a bind of unconditional love,
Lovingly adores his sunshine, making sure she knows she is loved with the same fervour,
Day in and day out, void of complains and pettiness, as the world turns.
A perfect man for me was never perfect,
Owning up to his flaws and shortcomings and being aware of mine,
A cycle that is never vicious but one that is laced with acceptance and non-judgments,
He inspires the best version of myself as he aspires to better himself.
A perfect man for me spells Y-O-U,
And the way that you are is exactly how I love Y-O-U.
Shalini Nayar
24.11.14
(C) 2014
Nov 24, 2014
Nov 24, 2014 at 9:51 AM UTC
What to say about this beauty's temerity,
when I like her, the way she is;
she kisses me only,
when she finds me really attractive!
Aug 11, 2012
Aug 11, 2012 at 2:19 AM UTC
My mother tells me that we will
Never be friends.
Today I believe it.
Love poisons our blood
And familiarity kills
conversation.
I look at her emotionlessly
So to block her influence.
She is an expert at exploiting
The slightest ****** waver,
Or any emotional advantage she
Could have over you.
She will make you wrong
Through verbal martyrdom.
I won't let her speak to me
Like she does the weak who
Are too polite or too submissive
To fight her.
Her style of English is cutting,
Self-righteous, honest, rude, unscientific, emotional, aggressive and often violent.
Never elegant.
She thinks the world is a battleground.
She is often incompetent and on top of that headstrong - to compensate for her ignorance.
She is sometimes funny, and sometimes kind.
She tells me we will never be friends.
Today I believe it.
I will not confide. I will not smile.
I will not joke, I will not listen.
I will help but I won't speak.
I will keep the talk small.
We will never be friends.
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 7:51 AM UTC
I need to see more, love more, hate more,
Be broken more, have my soul ripped out,
And then ripped from wherever it was tossed to,
I need to mourn, and become tired,
I need to shine and outshine until the light is blinding.
I need to explore and feel and think,
And breathe just a little deeper,
A little more effortlessly, a little more passion-driven,
And full-blooded, I need to be more headstrong and wild,
I need to be old and young and all the in-between.
I need to live and die and be reborn,
And read, read everything front to back,
And cover to cover, in every language,
In every color, I need to listen and absorb,
Until life and death are all in one.
Until my ears bleed and my bones are brittle,
Until my cvnt is worn and my heart torn,
And sewn so many times it’s a solid rock of scars,
I need to be everything good, bad, beautiful,
Devilish and pure… so I can be a better writer.
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 11:32 PM UTC
My heart
has cracked open
like the most
fragile of
elusive
eggs
viscous fluid
drips d
own
upon the plate
filled with
fissures,
spidercracks that
threat to
quake into
seismic
measures
and eventually
piece off into
oblivion
and only when
I can finally
unfold myself
from these
underwater
embryonic bends
fetal stretches
and folds
that never end
only then my arms
reach out
into the night
searching
and,
in tiniest of beams,
in one fell stroke
of midnight kismet
I find you
around me
in colored chromium
wrapping me up
headstrong,
filling my
wounded sutures
with
liquid
gold
Dec 15, 2016
Dec 15, 2016 at 6:11 PM UTC
Being the eldest son is tough.
You always bear the toughest blows
From punishments and such.
Parents blame you for everything
But thirteen years of it?
God.. That's just too much.
Sure, my sibling is cute,
Smart, and headstrong too,
But they're just such a pain sometimes.
If there's anything to remember,
It's that they're a selfish, stuck-up brat
To the point it should be a crime.
My sibling has ruined my life.
If only I just lived alone.
That would honestly be great...
I wouldn't have to deal with them
Or hear another one of their whines
While they look at me with hate.
I'd have my parents all to myself.
I'd have time to finally relax
And have peace like no other...
I'd waste my time all day
And wouldn't have to share my stuff,
But I wouldn't get to be a brother-
THAT is reward enough.
Jul 5, 2021
Jul 5, 2021 at 2:22 PM UTC
Independent
A bit headstrong,
Her kindness,
Transcendent
Her accent shapes her character.
She doubts her abilities
When she is among the strongest
The hurt of her people
Is all she sees
She’s learning to look in the mirror
Not to see the imperfections
But all the possibilities
She rarely forgets
Although she hides behind a silhouette
A fierce protector
Without discrimination
They can’t all defend themselves
So she steps in
She will give her life for her country
And for it
They love her.
I hope she sees the change she creates
A magnificent ruler.
Each step in her red spiked boots
Paving a new path
For those forgotten or lost
Walking with her,
Their roots
She takes their hand
And leads them on
No persecution
Only solutions.
A tireless advocate for those without.
No need to ask
She understands her task
…………………………….
Could you use some help?
No need to ask
Just open your eyes
And seek her out
She’ll find you
Eventually
She sees through it
The lies.
I hope one day this queen
Will find a proper king
For now she rules independently
Fighting
Endlessly.
Dec 17, 2021
Dec 17, 2021 at 10:29 PM UTC
All of a sudden came infront of me.
Fearless, bold and daring was she.
Opened all her clothes one by one.
I stood still, momentarily stunned.
Started dancing with horrific pose.
My body sweated, my blood froze.
Razed anyone who stood in her way.
Static, outstretched ****** Lies lay.
Myth got wounded, profusely bled.
Fiction hastened with fractured head.
Falsehood hid behind proud Vanity.
Vanity veiled himself with Humility.
Without delay deceitful Deceit fled.
Headstrong Ignorance lay dead.
Witnessed her many ugly stance.
Today I saw Truth's naked dance.
Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 4:02 AM UTC
Curiosity *killed the cat
and it's got me flaming
far past the first degree
and her secret’s in the coup d’etat;*
***Now viewing the reality
of the Gemini’s hereby guarantee***
*At combat with the Technocrats
because they’re both too headstrong
Her lust for learning might sound
an occasionally lethal song
But for now her secret’s as confusing*
as her sense of right and wrong
Feb 22, 2018
Feb 22, 2018 at 9:01 PM UTC
To feel this passion again, as natural as blood flow the electronic rhythm in a pen.
My fingers tap-tap, click-clack machine gun attack as my imagination blows away at this crazy syntax.
heading throbbing again mind flooding over again where is my pen?? where is my pen!!, over and over and over again....
This will be long, much like an over played song, but the vibe is there the rythm jagged but strong, undulating like a soca song, but so much farther along........I have to go in this written song.
Where does the fuel come from at the end of the day? so i say , so i pray....... the fuel to push along with each tumultuous day. Look around! everywhere is a mess! and civilizations are crashing down, half of them relaise even less seem to stress,
Not a political soul, but a humanitiarian? i would like to think.... as far as my darkness inside allows; unpredictablility in oneself and in what lies ahead, but headstrong enough to go through knowing its a must rather than a wasted doubt.
I think its time i lent my pen down another 40 days and 40 nights, all ten of my eager companions;i shall rest them now, so for another day lies more interesting tirades of unrest.
Sleep well my daughter sleep well my child. Daddy sleeps well knowing your right next to him sleeping tight in snug innocence, oh what a forgotten delight.
Mar 28, 2012
Mar 28, 2012 at 8:43 PM UTC