Kagaz ki kashtiyon mein kai bar safar kar liya,
ab ek lambi udan bhar lene do.
Aj in bandhe hue pankhon ko khuli hava mein sans le lene do,
kyunki ab girne ka khauff nahin raha.

Daudne mein ab koi maza nahin hai,
kyunki yahan to hava jaise tham si gayi **.
Ab rukne ka bilkul man nahin raha,
aj to toofanon mein sair karne lene do.

Dayron mein rehte hue adhi zindagi guzar gayi,
aj to un hadon ko par kar lene do.
Dar dar ke kab tak khamosh rahoge dost,
zameen par jeet jane mein kuch nahin rakha ,
aj to uchaiyon par jashn mana lene do.

Unke chale hue raston ko kai bar nap liya,
aj mujhe bhi apni pehchan bana lene do.
Kismat ka rona to sabhi rote hain,
aj mujhe bhi apne naseeb ka kora kagaz rang lene do.

Kabhi kabhi to man karta hai ki
un azad parindon ki tarah hava mein bas tairta hi reh jaoon.
Asan to kuch nahin par sochta *** ki
aj namumkin ko hi apna dost bana loon.

Kitabon ke panne kafi palat liye,
aj mujhe bhi do shabd likh lene do.
Hans lene do jinhe hansna hai mere in mazboot iradon par.
Kya samjhenege who is khuli udan ki masti ko,
jinhe kabhi bharosa nahin hua khud par,
aur hamesha rakha tha apne armanon ko pinjre mein kaid kar.

Khule asman mein aj ek bar ud lene do,
kya pata kal wahan bhi zaroorat se jyada bheed **.
Kai dinon ke bad aj ek bar fir azad hone ka man kiya hai
Tod do in bediyon ko, kyunki aj ek lambi udaan bharne ka iraada hai

there once was a woman named Arlene
who had an older sister named Darlene
their youngest sister was named Karlene
and her twin was named Charlene
the ladies of (lene) had a matriarch named Marlene

zakhamon ki batein in na karo
bahut chotein pahuchai hai tumne
maram lagane kind koshish na karo
hum nahi ban sake farishtey

maine tumhare aakhon ke andar ki aandhi dekhi hai
maine tumhari saans ginni hai
kya pata ki main kis din mar jaaon?
aapki galtiyon ki bare mein main kya batao?
saanse gin kar mein kabhi nahi thaki
taare, grah jo chaho le aaon
kitne baar maafi magun?
jab meri galti thi nahi

aaj thand bahut hai
saans lene mein taqlif hai
ab maram lagane ki koshish na karo
mein idhar ***, mujhe marte hue dekho.

Incipit Prohemium Secundi Libri.

Out of these blake wawes for to sayle,
O wind, O wind, the weder ginneth clere;
For in this see the boot hath swich travayle,
Of my conning, that unnethe I it stere:
This see clepe I the tempestous matere  
Of desespeyr that Troilus was inne:
But now of hope the calendes biginne.
O lady myn, that called art Cleo,
Thou be my speed fro this forth, and my muse,
To ryme wel this book, til I have do;  
Me nedeth here noon other art to use.
For-why to every lovere I me excuse,
That of no sentement I this endyte,
But out of Latin in my tonge it wryte.

Wherfore I nil have neither thank ne blame  
Of al this werk, but prey yow mekely,
Disblameth me if any word be lame,
For as myn auctor seyde, so seye I.
Eek though I speke of love unfelingly,
No wondre is, for it no-thing of newe is;  
A blind man can nat Iuggen wel in hewis.

Ye knowe eek, that in forme of speche is chaunge
With-inne a thousand yeer, and wordes tho
That hadden prys, now wonder nyce and straunge
Us thinketh hem; and yet they spake hem so,  
And spedde as wel in love as men now do;
Eek for to winne love in sondry ages,
In sondry londes, sondry ben usages.

And for-thy if it happe in any wyse,
That here be any lovere in this place  
That herkneth, as the storie wol devyse,
How Troilus com to his lady grace,
And thenketh, so nolde I nat love purchace,
Or wondreth on his speche or his doinge,
I noot; but it is me no wonderinge;  

For every wight which that to Rome went,
Halt nat o path, or alwey o manere;
Eek in som lond were al the gamen shent,
If that they ferde in love as men don here,
As thus, in open doing or in chere,  
In visitinge, in forme, or seyde hire sawes;
For-thy men seyn, ech contree hath his lawes.

Eek scarsly been ther in this place three
That han in love seid lyk and doon in al;
For to thy purpos this may lyken thee,  
And thee right nought, yet al is seyd or shal;
Eek som men grave in tree, som in stoon wal,
As it bitit; but sin I have begonne,
Myn auctor shal I folwen, if I conne.

Exclipit prohemium Secundi Libri.

Incipit Liber Secundus.

In May, that moder is of monthes glade,  
That fresshe floures, blewe, and whyte, and rede,
Ben quike agayn, that winter dede made,
And ful of bawme is fleting every mede;
Whan Phebus doth his brighte bemes sprede
Right in the whyte Bole, it so bitidde  
As I shal singe, on Mayes day the thridde,

That Pandarus, for al his wyse speche,
Felt eek his part of loves shottes kene,
That, coude he never so wel of loving preche,
It made his hewe a-day ful ofte grene;  
So shoop it, that hym fil that day a tene
In love, for which in wo to bedde he wente,
And made, er it was day, ful many a wente.

The swalwe Proigne, with a sorwful lay,
Whan morwe com, gan make hir waymentinge,  
Why she forshapen was; and ever lay
Pandare a-bedde, half in a slomeringe,
Til she so neigh him made hir chiteringe
How Tereus gan forth hir suster take,
That with the noyse of hir he gan a-wake;  

And gan to calle, and dresse him up to ryse,
Remembringe him his erand was to done
From Troilus, and eek his greet empryse;
And caste and knew in good plyt was the mone
To doon viage, and took his wey ful sone  
Un-to his neces paleys ther bi-syde;
Now Ianus, god of entree, thou him gyde!

Whan he was come un-to his neces place,
'Wher is my lady?' to hir folk seyde he;
And they him tolde; and he forth in gan pace,  
And fond, two othere ladyes sete and she,
With-inne a paved parlour; and they three
Herden a mayden reden hem the geste
Of the Sege of Thebes, whyl hem leste.

Quod Pandarus, 'Ma dame, god yow see,  
With al your book and al the companye!'
'Ey, uncle myn, welcome y-wis,' quod she,
And up she roos, and by the hond in hye
She took him faste, and seyde, 'This night thrye,
To goode mote it turne, of yow I mette!'  
And with that word she doun on bench him sette.

'Ye, nece, ye shal fare wel the bet,
If god wole, al this yeer,' quod Pandarus;
'But I am sory that I have yow let
To herknen of your book ye preysen thus;  
For goddes love, what seith it? tel it us.
Is it of love? O, som good ye me lere!'
'Uncle,' quod she, 'your maistresse is not here!'

With that they gonnen laughe, and tho she seyde,
'This romaunce is of Thebes, that we rede;  
And we han herd how that king Laius deyde
Thurgh Edippus his sone, and al that dede;
And here we stenten at these lettres rede,
How the bisshop, as the book can telle,
Amphiorax, fil thurgh the ground to helle.'  

Quod Pandarus, 'Al this knowe I my-selve,
And al the assege of Thebes and the care;
For her-of been ther maked bokes twelve: --
But lat be this, and tel me how ye fare;
Do wey your barbe, and shew your face bare;  
Do wey your book, rys up, and lat us daunce,
And lat us don to May som observaunce.'

'A! God forbede!' quod she. 'Be ye mad?
Is that a widewes lyf, so god you save?
By god, ye maken me right sore a-drad,  
Ye ben so wilde, it semeth as ye rave!
It sete me wel bet ay in a cave
To bidde, and rede on holy seyntes lyves;
Lat maydens gon to daunce, and yonge wyves.'

'As ever thryve I,' quod this Pandarus,  
'Yet coude I telle a thing to doon you pleye.'
'Now, uncle dere,' quod she, 'tel it us
For goddes love; is than the assege aweye?
I am of Grekes so ferd that I deye.'
'Nay, nay,' quod he, 'as ever mote I thryve!  
It is a thing wel bet than swiche fyve.'

'Ye, holy god,' quod she, 'what thing is that?
What! Bet than swiche fyve? Ey, nay, y-wis!
For al this world ne can I reden what
It sholde been; som Iape, I trowe, is this;  
And but your-selven telle us what it is,
My wit is for to arede it al to lene;
As help me god, I noot nat what ye meene.'

'And I your borow, ne never shal, for me,
This thing be told to yow, as mote I thryve!'  
'And why so, uncle myn? Why so?' quod she.
'By god,' quod he, 'that wole I telle as blyve;
For prouder womman were ther noon on-lyve,
And ye it wiste, in al the toun of Troye;
I iape nought, as ever have I Ioye!'  

Tho gan she wondren more than biforn
A thousand fold, and doun hir eyen caste;
For never, sith the tyme that she was born,
To knowe thing desired she so faste;
And with a syk she seyde him at the laste,  
'Now, uncle myn, I nil yow nought displese,
Nor axen more, that may do yow disese.'

So after this, with many wordes glade,
And freendly tales, and with mery chere,
Of this and that they pleyde, and gunnen wade  
In many an unkouth glad and deep matere,
As freendes doon, whan they ben met y-fere;
Til she gan axen him how Ector ferde,
That was the tounes wal and Grekes yerde.

'Ful wel, I thanke it god,' quod Pandarus,  
'Save in his arm he hath a litel wounde;
And eek his fresshe brother Troilus,
The wyse worthy Ector the secounde,
In whom that ever vertu list abounde,
As alle trouthe and alle gentillesse,  
Wysdom, honour, fredom, and worthinesse.'

'In good feith, eem,' quod she, 'that lyketh me;
They faren wel, god save hem bothe two!
For trewely I holde it greet deyntee
A kinges sone in armes wel to do,  
And been of good condiciouns ther-to;
For greet power and moral vertu here
Is selde y-seye in o persone y-fere.'

'In good feith, that is sooth,' quod Pandarus;
'But, by my trouthe, the king hath sones tweye,  
That is to mene, Ector and Troilus,
That certainly, though that I sholde deye,
They been as voyde of vyces, dar I seye,
As any men that liveth under the sonne,
Hir might is wyde y-knowe, and what they conne.  

'Of Ector nedeth it nought for to telle:
In al this world ther nis a bettre knight
Than he, that is of worthinesse welle;
And he wel more vertu hath than might.
This knoweth many a wys and worthy wight.  
The same prys of Troilus I seye,
God help me so, I knowe not swiche tweye.'

'By god,' quod she, 'of Ector that is sooth;
Of Troilus the same thing trowe I;
For, dredelees, men tellen that he dooth  
In armes day by day so worthily,
And bereth him here at hoom so gentilly
To every wight, that al the prys hath he
Of hem that me were levest preysed be.'

'Ye sey right sooth, y-wis,' quod Pandarus;  
'For yesterday, who-so hadde with him been,
He might have wondred up-on Troilus;
For never yet so thikke a swarm of been
Ne fleigh, as Grekes fro him gonne fleen;
And thorugh the feld, in everi wightes ere,  
Ther nas no cry but "Troilus is there!"

'Now here, now there, he hunted hem so faste,
Ther nas but Grekes blood; and Troilus,
Now hem he hurte, and hem alle doun he caste;
Ay where he wente, it was arayed thus:  
He was hir deeth, and sheld and lyf for us;
That as that day ther dorste noon with-stonde,
Whyl that he held his blody swerd in honde.

'Therto he is the freendlieste man
Of grete estat, that ever I saw my lyve;  
And wher him list, best felawshipe can
To suche as him thinketh able for to thryve.'
And with that word tho Pandarus, as blyve,
He took his leve, and seyde, 'I wol go henne.'
'Nay, blame have I, myn uncle,' quod she thenne.  

'What eyleth yow to be thus wery sone,
And namelich of wommen? Wol ye so?
Nay, sitteth down; by god, I have to done
With yow, to speke of wisdom er ye go.'
And every wight that was a-boute hem tho,  
That herde that, gan fer a-wey to stonde,
Whyl they two hadde al that hem liste in honde.

Whan that hir tale al brought was to an ende,
Of hire estat and of hir governaunce,
Quod Pandarus, 'Now is it tyme I wende;  
But yet, I seye, aryseth, lat us daunce,
And cast your widwes habit to mischaunce:
What list yow thus your-self to disfigure,
Sith yow is tid thus fair an aventure?'

'A! Wel bithought! For love of god,' quod she,  
'Shal I not witen what ye mene of this?'
'No, this thing axeth layser,' tho quod he,
'And eek me wolde muche greve, y-wis,
If I it tolde, and ye it **** amis.
Yet were it bet my tonge for to stille  
Than seye a sooth that were ayeins your wille.

'For, nece, by the goddesse Minerve,
And Iuppiter, that maketh the thonder ringe,
And by the blisful Venus that I serve,
Ye been the womman in this world livinge,  
With-oute paramours, to my wittinge,
That I best love, and lothest am to greve,
And that ye witen wel your-self, I leve.'

'Y-wis, myn uncle,' quod she, 'grant mercy;
Your freendship have I founden ever yit;  
I am to no man holden trewely,
So muche as yow, and have so litel quit;
And, with the grace of god, emforth my wit,
As in my gilt I shal you never offende;
And if I have er this, I wol amende.  

'But, for the love of god, I yow beseche,
As ye ben he that I love most and triste,
Lat be to me your fremde manere speche,
And sey to me, your nece, what yow liste:'
And with that word hir uncle anoon hir kiste,  
And seyde, 'Gladly, leve nece dere,
Tak it for good that I shal seye yow here.'

With that she gan hir eiyen doun to caste,
And Pandarus to coghe gan a lyte,
And seyde, 'Nece, alwey, lo! To the laste,  
How-so it be that som men hem delyte
With subtil art hir tales for to endyte,
Yet for al that, in hir entencioun
Hir tale is al for som conclusioun.

'And sithen thende is every tales strengthe,  
And this matere is so bihovely,
What sholde I peynte or drawen it on lengthe
To yow, that been my freend so feithfully?'
And with that word he gan right inwardly
Biholden hir, and loken on hir face,  
And seyde, 'On suche a mirour goode grace!'

Than thoughte he thus: 'If I my tale endyte
Ought hard, or make a proces any whyle,
She shal no savour han ther-in but lyte,
And trowe I wolde hir in my wil bigyle.  
For tendre wittes wenen al be wyle
Ther-as they can nat pleynly understonde;
For-thy hir wit to serven wol I fonde --'

And loked on hir in a besy wyse,
And she was war that he byheld hir so,  
And seyde, 'Lord! So faste ye me avyse!
Sey ye me never er now? What sey ye, no?'
'Yes, yes,' quod he, 'and bet wole er I go;
But, by my trouthe, I thoughte now if ye
Be fortunat, for now men shal it see.  

'For to every wight som goodly aventure
Som tyme is shape, if he it can receyven;
And if that he wol take of it no cure,
Whan that it commeth, but wilfully it weyven,
Lo, neither cas nor fortune him deceyven,  
But right his verray slouthe and wrecchednesse;
And swich a wight is for to blame, I gesse.

'Good aventure, O bele nece, have ye
Ful lightly founden, and ye conne it take;
And, for the love of god, and eek of me,  
Cacche it anoon, lest aventure slake.
What sholde I lenger proces of it make?
Yif me your hond, for in this world is noon,
If that yow list, a wight so wel begoon.

'And sith I speke of good entencioun,  
As I to yow have told wel here-biforn,
And love as wel your honour and renoun
As creature in al this world y-born;
By alle the othes that I have yow sworn,
And ye be wrooth therfore, or wene I lye,  
Ne shal I never seen yow eft with ye.

'Beth nought agast, ne quaketh nat; wher-to?
Ne chaungeth nat for fere so your hewe;
For hardely the werste of this is do;
And though my tale as now be to yow newe,  
Yet trist alwey, ye shal me finde trewe;
And were it thing that me thoughte unsittinge,
To yow nolde I no swiche tales bringe.'

'Now, my good eem, for goddes love, I preye,'
Quod she, 'com of, and tel me what it is;  
For bothe I am agast what ye wol seye,
And eek me longeth it to wite, y-wis.
For whether it be wel or be amis,
Say on, lat me not in this fere dwelle:'
'So wol I doon; now herkneth, I shal telle:  

'Now, nece myn, the kinges dere sone,
The goode, wyse, worthy, fresshe, and free,
Which alwey for to do wel is his wone,
The noble Troilus, so loveth thee,
That, bot ye helpe, it wol his bane be.  
Lo, here is al, what sholde I more seye?
Doth what yow list, to make him live or deye.

'But if ye lete him deye, I wol sterve;
Have her my trouthe, nece, I nil not lyen;
Al sholde I with this knyf my throte kerve --'  
With that the teres braste out of his yen,
And seyde, 'If that ye doon us bothe dyen,
Thus giltelees, than have ye fisshed faire;
What mende ye, though that we bothe apeyre?

'Allas! He which that is my lord so dere,  
That trewe man, that noble gentil knight,
That nought desireth but your freendly chere,
I see him deye, ther he goth up-right,
And hasteth him, with al his fulle might,
For to be slayn, if fortune wol assente;  
Allas! That god yow swich a beautee sente!

'If it be so that ye so cruel be,
That of his deeth yow liste nought to recche,
That is so trewe and worthy, as ye see,
No more than of a Iapere or a wrecche,  
If ye be swich, your beautee may not strecche
To make amendes of so cruel a dede;
Avysement is good bifore the nede.

'Wo worth the faire gemme vertulees!
Wo worth that herbe also that dooth no bote!  
Wo worth that beautee that is routhelees!
Wo worth that wight that tret ech under fote!
And ye, that been of beautee crop and rote,
If therwith-al in you ther be no routhe,
Than is it harm ye liven, by my trouthe!  

'And also thenk wel that this is no gaude;
For me were lever, thou and I and he
Were hanged, than I sholde been his baude,
As heyghe, as men mighte on us alle y-see:
I am thyn eem, the shame were to me,  
As wel as thee, if that I sholde assente,
Thorugh myn abet, that he thyn honour shente.

'Now understond, for I yow nought requere,
To binde yow to him thorugh no beheste,
But only that ye make him bettre chere  
Than ye han doon er this, and more feste,
So that his lyf be saved, at the leste;
This al and som, and playnly our entente;
God help me so, I never other mente.

'Lo, this request is not but skile, y-wis,  
Ne doute of reson, pardee, is ther noon.
I sette the worste that ye dredden this,
Men wolden wondren seen him come or goon:
Ther-ayeins answere I thus a-noon,
That every wight, but he be fool of kinde,  
Wol deme it love of freendship in his minde.

'What? Who wol deme, though he see a man
To temple go, that he the images eteth?
Thenk eek how wel and wy

Jis phul ne koi galati hi nahi ki, Use kis baat ki saza diya ja rha hai,
Es duniya me aane se pahle hi kyu use maar diya ja rha hai,

Ai Khuda kyu aise janwar ko tune banaya,
Ek chhoti kali ko pet me hi maar khud ko insaan btaya,

Na maaro us phul ko jisme us bhagwan ka hai waas,
Ek din aisa aayega jab ** jayega puri shristi ka naas

Arey nasamjh insaan sirf bete ki hi aas lagaoge,
To phir maa, behan aur dulhan kahan se paoge,

Mata-Pita ki galati ki saza us chhoti kali ko diya jata hai,
Ek chhote se andhere ghar me hi use maar diya jata hai,

Wo kali bhi baar baar unlogo se karti pukar,
Hey Maa-Baba mujhe pet me hi mat maar,

Ye duniya ek baar mujhe bhi dikha de,
Apne amrit ki ek ghunt mujhe bhi pila de,


Nanhi si jaan tou hai bekasoor,
Maar kar hi aakhir kyu milta hai pathar dilon ko suroor,

Wo bhi dekhna chahti hai duniya,
Janam lene se pehle hi Jaan gawani padti hai oo gudiya,

Apne hi hathon ukhed dete hai apne hi aangan ka phool,
Kaisa hai ye bereham logon ka usool,

Kismat wale hote hai wo insaan,
Jinki kokh mein dete hain betiyan bhagwaan,

Beti hai ishwar ka hai en anmol uphaar,
Jeene ka us nanhi jaan ko bhi hai adhikaar,

Sharam aati hai logo ki is ghatiya soch par,
Taras aata hai unpar
Jo apne hi ansh ka dete hain maar
Devi ka karte hain jo tiraskaar,

Banao ek naya usool
Beti ko karo qubool

Jeevan ka hai ye adhaar
Banta hai inhi se sansaar,

Likh us phul ka dard hamari aankhen bhar aai,
Teri banai duniya me O mera khuda ye teri kaisi khudai..
Ye teri kaisi khudai...


Collaboration by Manish Shrivastava and Sonia Paruthi

The other day in therapy we talked about my fears.
She asked me why I was afraid of the dark.
At the time I didn't know, I've always been ,

I guess I've never been scared of the dark
I guess I've always loved it

But I've given it some thought and I've noticed
The dark holds untold secrets
It is something you cannot run from

You can't say I'm ugly, you can't say I'm tall

When it comes, it is usually unexpected
And it envelopes you

You'll be forced to listen to my personality and my call

Until you become enclosed in everything else you're afraid of
The dark holds your freedom

Because you can hear my voice and hear my movement
You can't hear my smile and you can't hear my touch

And refuses to return it to you

I'll always be more than enough... In the dark

At night dark becomes powerful
Because there is no escape

Everyone's equal, you don't have to be shy.
It's so much easier to cry without light

No amount of light is bright enough to ***** out the dark.

You and I have the same amount of pride.

The dark holds you
In an intricate web of danger and exposure to things unseen
Worst of all,
The dark holds me
And I, do not enjoy being held by things.

Why is everyone looking for the light?
When it's so much easier living at night.

**In the dark

Escape
a roundel by Geoffrey Chaucer
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Since I’m escaped from Love and yet still fat,
I never plan to be in his prison lean;
Since I am free, I count it not a bean.

He may question me and counter this and that;
I care not: I will answer just as I mean.
   Since I’m escaped from Love and yet still fat,
   I never plan to be in his prison lean.

Love strikes me from his roster, short and flat,
And he is struck from my books, just as clean,
Forevermore; there is no other mean.
   Since I’m escaped from Love and yet still fat,
   I never plan to be in his prison lean;
   Since I am free, I count it not a bean.

**

Original text:

Sin I fro love escaped am so fat,
I never thenk to ben in his prison lene;
Sin I am fre, I counte him not a bene.

He may answere, and seye this or that;
I do no fors, I speke right as I mene.
    Sin I fro love escaped am so fat,
    I never thenk to ben in his prison lene.

Love hath my name y-strike out of his sclat,
And he is strike out of my bokes clene
For ever-mo; [ther] is non other mene.
    Sin I fro love escaped am so fat,
    I never thenk to ben in his prison lene;
    Sin I am fre, I counte him not a bene.
              Explicit.

Chehre pe gira jo woh boond uske
Jhalak ke aayi meri muskan aise
Ke Bikhri hui zindagi mein baras baithe
Khoyi hui aashaon ki baarish jaise

Bhul na paunga woh din
Pehli baarish jo bitayi thi saath mein
Chaatha tha mere paas bhi
Par ghus gaya tumhaare sang mein

Ek choti chathri aur hum do uske neeche
Bheeg rahe the hum aadhe aadhe
Par aise bheegne ka mazaa he hai kuch aur
Jab Aaghosh ke woh pal mile na kabhi aur

Chalte rahe hum aahista apne bus ki or
Kya batau kaise bitaye woh 5 minute
Unke Bheege zulfein jo karr rahe the shor
Chodke use apne bus mein
Bheegta raha uss pal ki yaadon mein

Aaj bhi Barsat jab bhi kare
Chaatha lene ko majboor
Yaad tumhari he karta hu Ke kaash tum hoti
Ghus jaata tumhare he chatri ki chaav mein
Pehli baarish ki un boondon ko chakhne
Ke kya swad aaj bhi wahi hai
Jo uss din chakha tha saath mein humne

na vasta raha ab mera in sab se,
na kisi aur se aur na hi rab se,
meri jindagi tum ** meri bandagi tum **,
na koi aur chahat,
meri jine ki khwahish bas tum **,
ab to bas pyaar karna chahta hu tumhe,
na vaasta raha ab mera in sab se,
na kisi aur se na hi rab se.....
dil me khwahish bas tumhe pane ki,
sath jine ki aur sath mar jane ki,
ek tu jo mil jaye,
mukammal shayad ye jindagi ** jaye,
na jane aur kitna door jaoge,
ab aa jao,
mai raah dekh raha hu kab se,
na vaasta raha ab mera in sabse,
na kisi aur se na hi rab se......
hai dil me kasak tumse door jane ki,
tumhe paa  lene ki aur fir se kho dene ki,
tum hi ** k ab tak banaya hua mujhe insaan,
na hote tum agar,
mai to kab ka door ** gaya hota is shahar se,
na khush hota kabhi,
na ghabrata kisi gam se,
na vaasta raha ab mera in sabse,
na kisi aur se na hi rab se.....
tum har pahar yaad aati **,
paas aakar fir door chali jati **,
kuj aur pana nahi mai chahta,
ek tum hi ** jise chahta hu mai shiddat se,
hai khayal tumhara hi is dil me,
tum aarjoo ** meri,
bas chahta hu tumko dil k har kone se,
ab rooth bhi nahi pata mai tumhe khone k dar se,
na vaasta raha mera ab in sab se,
na kisi aur se na hi rab se.......
i love u

I really want you to miss me.
Not "imu" but "i miss you lene"
I want you to notice that I'm gone.
Because you frustrate me but your never@home
But see when i am.. its nunu shutup ****!
Is get out my face do the ****** dishes.
It's not my fault you're hungry.
Well it's not my fault you don't have money.
If you didn't want a kid why did u have me?
I woulda been happier to be in a basked..
Awaiting for a stranger to see me on his doorstep.
Because you see that silence hurts when i tell you something important.
You see they say I'm loud at school but at home she's unwanted..

When im not high im low.
Were young lets drink,eat and smoke.
Lets party until everything is sore.
Wake up in a strange place and figure out how to get home.

Lets enjoy these days ,
Lets make memories.
Were living in are moms house
Everythings ****** free!

Forget about tomorrow
Lets all have fun
Get caught for curfew , get caught using drugs.
Every single day is Friday

Every single day is a piece of cake.
All you have to do is live.
Stand up for what's right ,
Don't fall for the *******

Go to sleep late , wake up late
Go to bonfires , go on dates
Don't care about what they all say
Because this is the youngest you'll be
Before any forward days.

-lene

Khushi Ka ek Naya daurr sa shuru hua tha....
Jo shayad mukammal hone se pehele hi khatm hone ki raah chun chuka tha!!!
Ye Zindagi hi badi ajeeb hai....
Shayad ise jeene k liye Chahiye ek behtar naseeb hai!!!!
Or naseeb k to kya hi kehne..
Hamari Zindagi mein to Hain sirf dukh - dardd na hi Khushi k khoobsurat gehne !!!
Sochte Hain ki ab nayi Zindagi ki shuruwaat kr hi lein....
Lekin hum kya jaanein ki Safar mein to iske Bhi khoonkhaar kaante biche Hain!!!
Lekin kab tk jakde rakhenge khud ko in darr ki bediyon mein ...
Sochte Hain ki ab jee hi lein in khubsurat Himachal ki vaadiyon mein!!
Shayad sb is baat se anjaan Hain ki hum Bhi Kabhi Kuch likhne ki himaakat kr lete Hain.....
Chalo Acha hi h, jee Lene dete Hain unhe is bhram mein ki hum har cheez mein nakkamyab rehte Hain!!!
                                              @HeartlyxPoems

A sunny summer day
white butterflies were dancing
we were playing in the park
Lene and me
We were more than four
less than ten
six perhaps
but even then
I never told my mummy

The man was kind of funny
it was a funny kind of picture
naked men and ladies in a great big ring
doing this thing
I see it even now
He had a light brown leather jacket and
orange ***** hair
he wanted us to touch him there
I see it clear as day
then we ran away
But I never told my mummy

Lene's mum and daddy made a great big fuss
They made my mummy hectic
and my dad called the police about the light brown leather jacket
I don't know what the fuss was
It was just the grown ups talking in their
funny kind of voices
They thought I couldn't hear
I wasn't really there

A sunny summer day
We were going on a day trip
Merete and me cycling to the sea
with her little sister
We were more than ten, less than teens
The sunlight was sparkling on the sea
We found the perfect spot and made our little nest
packing out our things and getting changed
But the changing kind of changed things
When we turned around there were
One two three
******* men
I was used to it by then but three in one go?
that's a lot you know

So we had no choice we had to pack it all together
and push our bikes back up the hill
It made me really cross
because of Merete's little sister
so I filled my water bottle in the sea before we left
I caught him by surprise
I snuck up behind the trees
I shook the water on his head
You're disgusting!
I said
Time stopped turning
My tummy stopped churning
I could see his eyes were sad
as he caught me by the wrist and said 'I know'

So
Here is how he bound me
That is all it takes
to take a child and bind her to your shame.
He shackled me forever to the knowledge that it wasn't him
it wasn't him to blame
There was something in him that he couldn't help
It must have been my body then
my horrid stupid body
I wasn't even pretty
If I could only get it off me
I want to tear it off
do you hear?
I'm screaming in disgust
I'm ripping it all off me
You think I asked for this?
You disgust me! I said to my stupid horrid body

For it just kept happening
one way or another
I wasn't even pretty
But I never told my mother
I never wanted her to know
It was too horrible for her
I didn't want to spread it
What's the use in that?
So I never told my mummy
At least I managed that
I never told my mummy.

Besshak
Allah behtreen
Badla lene wala he

Duri se sahi pyaar ki baat to Kiya karo
Na mil rahi hai ye nazar to Dil se baat kiya karo
Na jaane kab milenge hum
Na jaane kab honge baat
Yaar tasbir bhi Kam padne laga hai
Dard Dil ka bhi ab aankho se bahne laga hai
Chup hai juba
Ab chehra baya karne laga hai
Tum aana bas
**** bhi ab aakhiri sans lene laga hai

Sapno ko pura krne ki thaan lene aashaan h
Pr apni becheniyon s larna muskil
Wo ek khauf hota h
Jo brte kdm ko thaam leta h
Wo becheni, ghabrahat kisi anhoni ki dastakhat si hoti h
sapno ko pal m chur kr jo deti h
pr khwaisho ko puri krne ki taqat usse kae bdh k hoti h
Jo manjil tk rukh mor hi deti h
yh becheniyon s aage bdh
sapno ko pura krne ka hosla jga deti h