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menmarou Dec 2014
~Entry #1 12.02.14

Akala ko madali lang ang lahat. Ang yabang ko pa.. sabi ko mai-inlove din saken to. pero mali pala..
ako yung na-inlove eh.

Ang sakit pala, kasi ginawa ko na lahat ng kaya ko, lahat ng paraan para lang abutin siya, tulungan siya, kasi naiintindihan ko siya.. sobra.
Pero ang sakit pala kapag ikaw lang yung lumalaban. ikaw lang yung naghahangad ng happy ending, kasi sa dulo walang ganun, walang happy ending..
kasi nde pa siya maka move on.
ang masaklap pa nito ..
matatanggap ko pa sana kung yung mga umaaligid na babae kasi madali naman sila paalisin, pero yung kalabanin mo yung bababeng minahal niya ng sobra bago ka dumating..
nde ko kaya. ang sakit pala.
ang tanga ko kasi nde ko kayang magalit sa kanya, kasi hanggang ngayon naiintindihan ko pa din siya.
lintik na one sided to oh. nde ko alam na ganito pala kasakit ang mag mahal ng isang taong nde sayo..
let me rephrase that. taong nde magiging sayo
akala ko. yang word na yan, madaming namamatay diyan . isa na ako dun,
naniwala ako sa sarili ko na magiging okay ang lahat sa amin. pero nde pala..
ibang iba sa reality, kainis kasi eh napaka hopeless romantic ko kaya ayan kahit imposible sumugal..
pero nakita ko na kasi na ganito mangyayari eh,
nasa isip ko. "nde naman siguro ganon, kasi kahit papaano mahalaga na ako sa kanya, malay mo naman diba? mai-nlove"
Assuming din kasi ako, kasalanan ko din..
sa simula pa lang naman kasalanan ko na. Sinubukan ko kasi gusto ko siya eh. gustong gusto.
pero eto pa din ako, naghihintay, umaasa pa din ako kahit pinaliwanag niya na sa akin na nde pwede.
nakakulong kasi siya sa regret at pain in the past. sabi niya gusto niya lang daw ako "protektahan" lintek na.

Nasasaktan na ako eh. sobrang sakit.
welcome to SMP menma.
~unspoken feelings.
tangshunzi Jul 2014
Se devo essere completamente onesto .avrei davvero mai sentito parlare di Gotland fino ad ora.Ma venire a scoprire .è un vero gioiello al largo della costa della Svezia (grazie Google) e l'impostazione di questa pastello storditore da Sara Norrehed .Pensate capannone industriale incontra rive Beachy incontra perfetta storia d'amore con una splendida sposa e lo sposo rubare lo spettacolo .Si rompe lo stampo matrimonio nel migliore dei modi .e stiamo amando ogni secondo nella galleria qui .

Condividi questa splendida galleria ColorsSeasonsSummerSettingsWarehouseStylesCasual

Da Sposa .Quando ** incontrato la prima volta mi sono innamorato .e sorriso .perché si sapeva .Beh questo è Shakespeare .ma lui deve aver letto la mia mente !E quando la persona più bella che abbia abiti da sposa 2014 mai incontrato proposto a me su una mattina di Natale io ero la ragazza più felice del mondo !Lo sono ancora .

Prima ** incontrato Gabriele non ero mai stato a Gotland .che è la più grande isola della Svezia situata al largo della costa orientale .Egli è nato sull'isola e la prima volta che ci siamo andati insieme mi sono innamorato di questo posto magico .Così.quando era il momento di trovare il posto perfetto per il nostro matrimonio abbiamo capito che doveva essere qui .Eravamo in una ricerca di last minute per un luogo e un giorno ventoso in aprile abbiamo trovato la posizione più incredibile in un vecchio tiglio pozzo .I colori.la luce .la natura .Tutto era pura magia .Come un sogno .

L'ambiente e gli edifici di questa ri- modellato .vecchia industria chiamato Fabriken Furillen sono molto spoglio e crudo con un sacco di cemento e metallo arrugginito .Questo si è rivelato essere il perfetto contrasto con il tema romantico che avevo in mente per il matrimonio .Essendo una persona furba fai da te volevo tutti i dettagli per essere personali e fatti in casa .Molte ore e fino a tarda notte sono stati spesi per piegare rose di carta .trasformando cucchiai d'epoca in segnaposti e fare zigoli juta .Il risultato era più di quanto potessi mai potuto desiderare !Mi piace che ogni impostazione tavolo era diverso.con le vecchie sciarpe di pizzo utilizzati come runner e candelabri Usato mia



mamma aveva raccolto per me dal giorno in cui la data delle nozze è stata impostata .
La sera prima del grande giorno avevamo un barbeque e tutti i nostri amici e parenti eravamo lì a mescolarsi .vino e cenare e festeggiare.Un ottimo modo per iniziare il week-end !Sul grande giorno il tempo era fortunatamente a nostro favore .La cerimonia è stata aperta su un piccolo portico con l'oceano successivo .La cena era deliziosa con abiti da sposa 2014 prodotti locali .i nostri amici e parenti fatto alcuni discorsi indimenticabili e tutti abbiamo ballato tutta la notte.Vorrei che potessimo farlo di nuovo !Avevamo un fotografo straordinario che è riuscito a catturare tutti i momenti preziosi e mi piace come le foto si è rivelato .assolutamente bellissimo e molto artistico .L' intero matrimonio era caldo .amorevole e divertente .E la cosa migliore di tutto questo ?Sono ora sposata con l'amore della mia vita

Fotografia : Sara Norrehed Fotografia | design floreale : ! Vaxthuset Lindsay | Scarpe : Jimmy Choo | Gioielli : Tiffany \u0026 Co. | Gioielli abiti da sposa on line : Jarl Sandin | capelli: Nyans | Illuminazione: Bordodesign \u0026 Technology | Abbigliamento dello sposo : NK Stockholm | fascia per capelli : Etsy | Luogo : Fabriken Furillen | abito da sposa ( " Aglaya " ) : Elie
http://www.belloabito.com/goods.php?id=806
http://188.138.88.219/imagesld/td//t35/productthumb/1/4256135353535_396367.jpg
http://www.belloabito.com/abiti-da-sposa-2014-c-13
Svezia Wedding da Sara Norrehed Fotografia_vestiti da sposa
Shayad mai koi changey karm kitte hone,
Jado mahiya mera mere sang hove.

Har pal sohna jeya lagda,
Mainu maitho oo mangda.

Har janam mai sirf haa tuhadi,
Zindagi chahe kinna vi khelle kabaddi.

Har kadam tere naal chalangi,
Bdi masoom hai tuhadi saadgi.

Tuhanu assi takde rahiye,
Saddi dadhkan te naam tera likhiye.

Har saah ch vasdeya mera sajna,
Teri baahan ch samet kayenaat haa.

Sohne taan loki duniya ch bathere ne,
Sab tou sohna mereya mahiya ve.

Ohdi har awaaz ch inna sukoon haiga,
Har rooh nu pavitra paak kar janda.

Rabb ne vi taar ohna naal jode ne,
Tu soch vi sakda mai kinna tenu chauhndi ve.

Shohrat rutba daulat shaan ameeri te,
Eh kam malak de hor wazir vi kar dende.

Jeda kammal mera sohneya karda,
Oh taan koi vi ni kar sakda.

Ohde warga dost tey humsafar khuda vi ni,
Ohnu daaman ch paaya mai saubhagyawati.

Ohdi dewa ki misaal,
Oh haiga bemisaal.

Vekha tenu nitt subah-o-sham ve,
Tenu vekh har khildi har sawere.

Harry muradda poori hoiya,
Jado mileya mainu mahiya.
drishti Jun 2018
(SHE  IS  SAYING THESE  LINES WHEN HER  HUSBAND THINKS THAT HIS  WIFE  IS CHARACTERLESS),,,,,,,,

MERE  DIL KI BATAIN DIL MAI HI REH JAENGI,
TUM YAD KAROGY JAB TO SHYAD ANKHEN BHAR JAENGI,

JO TERI NAZRON MAI GALAT HU, KISI KO DHOKHA DEKAR CHHORA TO NHI MAINE,
KHATA  BHUT JISE MANTA HAI, TUJHE ANDAR TAK TODA  TO NHI MAINE,

GALATIA HUI HONGI, DHOKHA  TO  NHI DIA TUJHE,
MUJHE  ROZ GALAT  THEHRATA HAI, KABHI SOCHA HAI, KITNA DARD HOTA HOGA MUJHE,

TERE  LIYE MAINE  KHUD  KO MARA HAI, SHYAD TU KBHI NA KR SAKE,
MAINE  JO MITAEA HAI,  SHYAD  BIKHAR  KE  TU NA  SIMAT  SAKE,....
kundan kumar May 2015
maa
payar ke do lamhon me kho jana chahta ***
maa ke aanchal me so ja jana chahta ***
mamta ki sarowar me dub jana chahta ***
yein duniyan ki rasme se parein hona chata ***
is jhut ki nagri se niklna chahta ***
payar ke do lamhon me kho jana chahta ***
maa ke aanchal me so ja jana chahta ***
yein badal tu mujhse kyun puchh raha h
tu bhi to maa ki mamta ko chahta h
tabhi to pani bankar maa ki god me barasta h
mai bhi apne aansu maa ki god me bahana chahta ***
payar ke do lamhon me kho jana chahta ***
maa ke aanchal me so ja jana chahta ***
yein pat tu mujhse kyun puch rahan h
tu bhi to maa ki god me samana chahta h
kabhi patjhar, to kabhi aandhi ke karan maa ki god me aana chahta h
mai bhi apne mastak maa ki god me girana chahta ***
payar ke do lamhon me kho jana chahta ***
maa ke aanchal me so ja jana chahta ***
Puisque mai tout en fleurs dans les prés nous réclame,
Viens ! ne te lasse pas de mêler à ton âme
La campagne, les bois, les ombrages charmants,
Les larges clairs de lune au bord des flots dormants,
Le sentier qui finit où le chemin commence,
Et l'air et le printemps et l'horizon immense,
L'horizon que ce monde attache humble et joyeux
Comme une lèvre au bas de la robe des cieux !
Viens ! et que le regard des pudiques étoiles
Qui tombe sur la terre à travers tant de voiles,
Que l'arbre pénétré de parfums et de chants,
Que le souffle embrasé de midi dans les champs,
Et l'ombre et le soleil et l'onde et la verdure,
Et le rayonnement de toute la nature
Fassent épanouir, comme une double fleur,
La beauté sur ton front et l'amour dans ton cœur !

Le 21 mai 1835.
Jab aap humare ** pass,

Har lamha hai bhut khaas.



Har ehsaas bhi sun leti hain ye dadhkane,

Aap zindagi ** humarai aapke siwa kuch nahi chahiye.



Aap ** tou sab kuch hai humare pass,

Dil se dil ke jude hain gehre ehsaas.



Paaya apne rabb ko aap mein,

Aapko dekar de diya sab kuch us rab ne.



Har dua mein shaamil ** aap,

Rooh ki awaaz ko meelon dur se bhi lete ** bhaap.



Is jahan mein aapke jaisa koi nahi,

Samjh jaate ** wo bhi jo baat ankahi.



Sabse khubsurat tarasha hai aapko us uparwale ne.

Aapke saamne tou wo chaand bhi feeka lage.



Aapke bina soona hai mera jahan jaanu,

Aapke siwa us khuda se mai aur kya mangu.



Zindagi ko zindagi mil gayi,

Chahiye aur kuch bhi nahi.



Is banjaare dil ko us dil ka mila thikana,

Jannat se bhi khubsurat hai aapka aana.



Sir jhuka kar karu mai aapke saamne sajda,

Ibadat ** jayegi qubool aap ** mere khuda.



Meri saadgi, meri khushi,

Zinda hai sirf aapse hi.



Baahon mein chupa le jaana,

Intezaar rhega aap bhi doli leke jald hi aana.



Dulhan bn aapki mil jayegi har khushi,

Aapke angana aaungi chali.



Mehandi wale haathon ki chudi hai aapse,

Saja dena maang humari apne naam ke kumkum se.



Basau mai aapke sang pyaara sa aashiyana,

Hai ek dil ka khubsurat sa sapna.



Meri saanse chalti hain un dadhkano se,

Mera sab kuch hai sirf aapke waaste.



Dil, jaan , rooh sirf aapke naam.

Har janam bs aapki hi banu bheja khuda ko paigaam.
Aap
Ek naadan parinde ka haath aapne thaama,
Apne dil mein diya sabse khubsurat thikana.

Phool ki mehak ko jaata nahi churaya.
Suraj ki kirne ko jaata nahi chupaya.

Khuda ne itna sikhaya hai mujhe,
Aapke liye dua karu khud se pehle.

Mere dil ka dard kisne hai dekha,
Ye dost muskaan ke peeche ki kahani padh leta.

Vaada karte hain ye rishta dil se nibhayenge,
Aapki shiddat mein hadd se guzar jayenge.

Dil se maangi thi dua rabb se,
Qubool hui ibadat mulakaat hui jab aapse.

Duniya ki daulat hey ishwar nahi chahiye mujhe,
Sabse anmol tohfa mila jo jud gaye sanjog unse.

Dadhkano ki dadhakti har awaaz hai sirf unki,
Pyaar mein tabdil ** gayi hamari dosti.

Chand sa hai mukhda,
Mere jigar ka tukda.

Bin tere jiyenge ab hum na ek pal,
Tujhse juda hai aane wala har kal.

Bhut sataya humne aapko aapka jawab dene mein,
Hanji hum bhi chahte hain aapko aapki shiddat se.

Jud gye dil se dil tak,
Mujh par sirf hai aapka hakk.

Rooh se rooh ka rishta hai hamara,
Tujh bin ek pal nahi humein gavara.

Chadha diya hum par rang apna,
Poora hua ek pyaara sa sapna.

Aasman mein jab tak sitaro ka hai basera,
Ek dusre ka hain hum sahara.

Meri zindagi ke saaton janam hai aapke naam,
Aapke hi rahenge hum bheja khuda ko paigaam.

Pyaar mera rago mein lahu ban daude,
Apna sab kuch tum par qurbaan kar de.

Tum saath ** tou zindagi mein hai bahaar,
Tere bina zindagi bhi hai meri bekaar.

Khuda kasam har saans sirf tumhari,
Tumse hi judi hai zindagi hamari.

Rabb jaane kya lekh likhe unhone,
Milaya hai jab aage bhi whi sambhale.

Mai teri ** gayi haa mahiya,
Har kadam saath hain hum saathiya.

Rabb se pehle tumko yaad kiya,
Apna dil tumhe de diya .

Sacchi mohabbat tumse kar baithe,
Pta nahi chala kab hum aapke ** gye.

Zindagi se judi hai hayat aapki,
Aapka pyaar jaise maa ki thapki.

Har mod par saath hai aapke,
Chahe waqt kitni karwat badal le.

Aapki pagli sirf aapki hai yaara,
Tum bin kaun hai hamara.

Intezaar hai besabri se humein us din ka,
Jis din aapke naam se judega naam hamara.

Aapka har dukh hamara hai sajna,
Hamari har khushi par naam hai aapka.

Tumko bhi hai khabar,
Aye mere humsafar.

Maut ki gaud mein sone ke baad bhi,
Alwida nahi hai kehna humein kabhi.

Gujarish hai khuda se ,
Kabhi juda na karna unse.

Ek sang hi mitti ki chadar odh so jayenge,
Sacchi mohabbat dil se nibhayenge.

Mohabbat se kai upar hai mohaabat aapse,
Aisa koi shabd nahi jo ise piro ske.

Chaha tha humesha se humsafar mahadev jaisa,
Qubool hui dua hamari jo mila mahiya aisa.

Dilon ki awaaz mein hai itna asar,
Yaad kare joo ** jaati hai khabar.

Ibadat karne ka wo khubsurat lamha mile,
Tou hum apne humsafar  ke saamne sajda kar le.
Aabid Rumi May 2017
Tere bin yeah zindagi mazaak see lagti hai
Har  dhuvay mai lipti apni he aag lagti hai

Tunay thama tha hath mera toh hum chalna jaan gaye
feesal rahia hai kadam kyun ki thokarey apni he lagti hai
Nigahain num naa huvi  toh gilla rehta he hai
Har katrai-e-ansu phir bhi ek shikayat see lagti hai
Yeah kis mode pay hum akay rukay,na manzil hai aur naa rasta
Faryaad kissay ab karey ki har shey ajnabi see lagti hai.
ghum-e-samandar k kinarey pay  tanhaa betha hai yeh dil
Pass aye toh aye kon ki dardkaney bhi ab sazaa see lagti hai
Bichard kay tumsay hum khoye kahaan naa maloom hai
Jistiju mai har bikhra nishaan apni he pehchaan lagti hai
Yeah kaisi inayat hai ki tummay mang kar yun ruswaye milli
kyun har dua ab yun khairaat see lagti hai
Yeah ishq kyun aisa hai ,naa tera hai aur naa mera
kab aye aur kab gaye ki choti see mulakat lagti hai
Ab aur nibaya nhi jata RUMI,yeah **** bina rooh  kay
Mere waja say yeah duniya kyunki pereshaan see lagti hai

...Aabid Rumii
Tanzeelah Illahi
Himanshu rajput Dec 2015
Tanha yuhi kat jata safar agar tum sath na hote.....
manzil yuhi rhe jaati agar tum sath na hote....

dekhu to duniya mai saari magar....
ye rang dekh na pau....
jee kar bhi is duniya me....
adhoora bin tere rhe jau....

ye baarish yuhi tham jaati ager tum sath na hote....
ye duniya meri tham jaati agar tum sath na hote....

me jaanu to duniya ko kaeyi naam se.....
me jaanu mujhe bs tere naam se....
ye duniya na jaan paati mujhe....
jo ye lafz meri phechaan na hote....

ye naam yu he bikhar jata ager jo tum sath na hote....
hasti meri mar jaati ager tum phechaan na hote....

By : HR COLLECTION
Aslam M Jul 2019
Ya Khuda.  Yeh Kaisee Hai Yeh Mauziza.
Barsaat kai woh Paak Khatrai
Yeh Pyaasi Zaameen Par Girtai.
Khuch Talau Mai
Khuch Dariya Mai
Khuch Nadi Mai
Aur Khuch Gutter Mai.
Paani Ki Paakeezaa Mai
Yeah Kaisai Tabdelee Aaati Hai.  
Khuch Paak Rehtai Hai
Aur Khuch Na Paak Hau Jaati Hai.
Na dhan k e daas hote hai ,naa mann ke daas hote hai
Nirasha me v aasha ka, saghan vishwas hote hai
Nazar se dur hokar v, jigar ke paas hote hai
Mohabbat karne wale dil, bahot hi khas hote hai

Ibbadat kaun karta hai,Innayat kaun karta hai
Sabhi hai lootne wale, mohabbat kaun karta hai
Bharamar ki gungunahat se hi, ab har phool darta hai
Sabhi khilwadd karte hai, mohabbat kaun karta hai

Mohabbat apni har aashiq, pe jaya hum nahi karte
Ki aise har kisi pe dil,  lutaya hum nahi karte
Mai kahti raat rani se, meri awaj ko sunkar
Chale aate hai khud bhawre, bulaya hum nahi karte

Hume apni mohabbat tum, gawara mat samajh lena
Aji ye dil humara hai, tumhara mat samajh lena
Kayamat ki nazar hai, humnazara mat samajh lena
Kinara kar rahe hai hum, Isahara mat samajh lena
Copyright© Shashank K Dwivedi
Web- www.researchbits.com,skdisro.weebly.com
email-shashankdwivedi.edu@gmail.com
Follow me on Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/skdisro
O mai Gad of Bisdak
Tell me wat i lack
Du yu want sam bulaklak?
Or do yu want me to **** ****?

Bicos i ran out of luck
And i dont gib a ****
So why yu no talk?
Gad of Bisdak
Bisaya por lyp
Tout conjugue le verbe aimer. Voici les roses.
Je ne suis pas en train de parler d'autres choses.
Premier mai ! l'amour ***, triste, brûlant, jaloux,
Fait soupirer les bois, les nids, les fleurs, les loups ;
L'arbre où j'ai, l'autre automne, écrit une devise,
La redit pour son compte et croit qu'il l'improvise ;
Les vieux antres pensifs, dont rit le geai moqueur,
Clignent leurs gros sourcils et font la bouche en coeur ;
L'atmosphère, embaumée et tendre, semble pleine
Des déclarations qu'au Printemps fait la plaine,
Et que l'herbe amoureuse adresse au ciel charmant.
A chaque pas du jour dans le bleu firmament,
La campagne éperdue, et toujours plus éprise,
Prodigue les senteurs, et dans la tiède brise
Envoie au renouveau ses baisers odorants ;
Tous ses bouquets, azurs, carmins, pourpres, safrans,
Dont l'haleine s'envole en murmurant : « Je t'aime ! »
Sur le ravin, l'étang, le pré, le sillon même,
Font des taches partout de toutes les couleurs ;
Et, donnant les parfums, elle a gardé les fleurs ;
Comme si ses soupirs et ses tendres missives
Au mois de mai, qui rit dans les branches lascives,
Et tous les billets doux de son amour bavard,
Avaient laissé leur trace aux pages du buvard !

Les oiseaux dans les bois, molles voix étouffées,
Chantent des triolets et des rondeaux aux fées ;
Tout semble confier à l'ombre un doux secret ;
Tout aime, et tout l'avoue à voix basse ; on dirait
Qu'au nord, au sud brûlant, au couchant, à l'aurore,
La haie en fleur, le lierre et la source sonore,
Les monts, les champs, les lacs et les chênes mouvants,
Répètent un quatrain fait par les quatre vents.

Saint-Germain, 1er mai 1838.
Shrivastva MK Jun 2015
Tum hi to **
Jo har roj meri sapno mein aati **,
Baith us pyare chand ke paas
jo Pyar ka geet sunati **,
Muskurate huye dekh tum
mujhe jo etna bebas  kar jati **,
Jab main tumhe pane ki koshish karta hoon,
Najane kyon tum mujhe chhod us ghane badalo me chhup jati **,
Us ghane badalo me chhup jati **,

mera dil bhi rota hai
meri aankhen bhi roti hai
jab tum en suni nazaron se ojhal ** jati **,
** jata *** mai ek ansuni paheli,
Jab tum mujhe yu mitthe dard dekar jati **,


Kash! main bhi es sitara hota,
Najdik se dekhne ka bhi haq hamara hota,
jab ** jati andheri raat
tere saath ka wo pal bhi hamara hota,
Kyon tum sirf kuchh palo ke lia hi aati **,
baith us pyare chand ke paas jo pyar ka geet sunati **...
Feel Nov 2014
Think about this - a holiday that needs no funky dresses.
A holiday so creative, there is no need for red lipsticks, no need for nail clippers, no need for pungent scent of over-powering colognes.
A holiday so relaxing, a massage is as unimportant as a torch light near the sun.
All we need is just you; and perhaps the ever so annoying presence of me.
All we need is a bountiful of sundresses that you own, and perhaps my flowery sense of humor that matches the colors of the purple lilac prints of your sundress.
I could buy you a hat, but only if you promise me that it will only hide you from the sun, and not you from my eyes.
It could be big so you don't need sunscreen; and big enough to stop you from cringing when the sun hits your eyes but small enough that you still require some Banana Boat applied on your skin.
I'll bring the Banana Boat that has your favorite scent and I will put them on my hands; white cream will round my palm as I merge both hands together to a rub and apply the heat on your back. I will do it with so much passion because I want to ensure that only I can have your body and only I can touch your skin and that the beam of those evil UV lights will have none of you to them.
I want to feel the presence of you next to me, in our cabana, hidden away from the noises of the city, from the trinkets of the toy stores, from the audible annoyances of office politics.
I want to hear you play your favorite Azalea tunes on your iPod and secretly loving it as the song burst out of your earphones – teasing me, tempting me, seducing me with your bouncing head.
I want to hold on to my Mai Tai, cold as always, as the droplets of the cold water from melted ice succumbs to the heat my palms are dismissing.
And I want to have that Mai Tai with you, with two straws, with a pineapple decoration on the brink of the glass; and maybe…just maybe…if you're playful, a little umbrella that is in your favorite color.
Perhaps then we can hear the sound of crashing waves as our bodies crashes with the nuances of knowing that we are good for each other, but never at the same time as each other.
We can then, together, in silence, delve in the truth, the evolution, that we crave for the attention of the other, but we have the unfortunate excuse to not believe in that craving.
As we sip on the Mai Tai, we see the sun set, and the horizon is as beautiful and as composed and as straight as the bangs of your hair.
We refuse to leave that beach. And we refuse in our hearts because no words filled the empty silence but sounds of crickets and the ***** of wings of the swallows that flew by us - back to their homes, back to their nests, back to their hearts.
We know one of us will have to break that silence and it is so quiet that a drop of a 20 cent coin can jolt us, make our hearts beat faster with the expectations that we have of what's to come next.
"Let's go", you said.
And I mustered up my muscles, aching for one last stretch of my forearm to pull yours closer to mine.
But I could not.
Because you have walked away, walked ahead and far from me.
You have passed the stream of sea water that we could have left our footprints on, together, side by side.
I took that as a painful hint.
"Perhaps tonight is not the night. Perhaps we are not what we are.", I thought.
I finished up our drink like how I would finish writing our unending story.
I sipped the warm Mai Tai of depression, sadness, disappointment and anger as it travels through my bloodstream.
This alcohol – it filled my empty heart with the depressed, sad, disappointed and angry poison.
I was certainly not in the mood.
I packed my towels, wrapped it around my secure body and around my insecure soul.
As I walk behind you, following your imprints of footsteps left on the sand, I lit a cigarette. I put on my earphones, blasted the Azalea song that you love so much as I envision what could have been our most memorable night.
Anonymous Apr 2019
Dil me liye armaan hazaro,
har ek insaan daudta hai..
Sapne pure karne ko apne,
kai baar woh rota hai..
Tanhai ke aasuo ki keemat nahi hoti,
aankhen nam kar akele, fizool hi roya main..
Pata nahi kaise,
par iss daud me jeet kar bhi hara main..

Mushkil hoti hai dagar, agar khud ke liye jeete **,
dusro ke liye jeena aur bhi mushkil hota hai..
Iss raah me kabhi kisi ka saath mile,
woh saath nibhana aasaan nai hota hai..
Meri koshisho me shayad reh gayi kami koi,
jo aaj tak nahi nibha saka isss rishte ko main..
Pata nahi kaise,
par iss daud me bhi hara main..

Khud ki takleefo me shayad gum gaya zyada zara,
jo dikha nahi mujhe mushkile hoti toh sabhi ko hain..
Chizo ko suljhane chala tha,
uss raah me khud hi ulajh gaya main..
Naa mushkile kam hui aur naa takleefe door,
bas dil dukhaya sabke main..
Zindagi shayad daud nahi, par main phir bhi isme hara hu,
kisi aur ka kya kasoor, bas zindagi se hara mai..
Irena Adler Nov 2018
Virginia Woolf una volte scrisse che " la bellezza ha due tagli, uno di gioia, l'altro di angoscia, che ci dividono il cuore".
La prima cosa che mi passa per la testa di fronte a tali parole è che l'uomo e la donna patiscono continuamente anche quando sono felici. Quel tipo di angoscia che non ti abbandona mai, la sofferenza di fronte alle scelte fatte o non fatte, il desiderio di evasione in un mondo utopico, la volontà di essere completamente liberi e stoici. I pregiudizi sono nostri amici-nemici. Tutto dipende da come gli accogliamo nelle varie circostanze della vita.
Se ci fosse Virginia Woolf qua con me sicuramente  si arrabbierebbe; " Come puoi essere così disordinata? Non mi stavi  per caso citando? E poi sembrava che stessi cercando  di spiegare qualcosa?! Salti da un argomento all'altro per caso. Se devi essere patetica, aggiungici un sarcasmo poetico".
Scusa ma non riesco ad organizzare ancora bene i miei pensieri. Fluttuano come la polvere nell'aria dopo che hai tentato inutilmente  di pulire un armadio vecchio. Scusa Virginia, mi conoscerai meglio con il passare del tempo.  " Ecco, brava! Che sia sempre con te lo spirito di Judith Shakespeare!"




Martedì 6.  

L'artista che corre per la strada e cerca la sua musa, la trova nello specchio che tende subito a scomparire.
Lui non si è accorto del Sole, vive di notte, disegna di notte, sogna di giorno, sogna di notte. Vive.
Non vede, lui osserva, ama l'impossibile, ama il futile eterno, sogna e vede ciò che non sarà mai compreso dagli altri. Lui trema e le sue mani tengono il pennello con un eccitazione che non si può comprendere ma solo provare. L'emozione di fronte ad un opera che deve appena essere creata, immortalata, eterna come la non-realtà.
L'immagine sussiste e lui sbatte le ali del sogno, disubbidisce alla società, gode ed ama l'incomprensibile, lo respira e vive di ciò.

Lo spessore della profondità è inabbattibile. L'acqua non ti fa annegare; è il pensiero. Non pensiamo, nuotiamo, è l'istinto a prevalere eppure abbiamo scelto di morire. Per questo motivo esiste l'altro, per annegarci o salvarci. Mantieni la dignità e vivi. E dunque sanguina.


Venerdì 9.

L'uomo e la donna. La donna e l'uomo. L'uomo ha sulla testa una lampadine e la donna uno sbattitore da cucina. La natura del cane è quella di abbaiare. La natura della specie umana è quella di riprodursi. Eppure abbiamo la necessità di creare ed inventare, non riusciamo a farne a meno. Sentiamo un bisogno insostenibile di portare fuori ciò che sta dentro. Siamo continuamente alla ricerca dell'essere presenti, passati e futuri. La gioia e l'angoscia d' esistere ci turba le anime. Ci chiediamo sempre qual'è lo scopo del fare e di muoverci. Dove sta il dono o la maledizione di essere stati scaraventati sulla palla ovale che gira intorno a se stessa ed intorno ad una palla ancora più grande che ci mantiene in vita. E' questo il senso? Dipendere dalla luce del sole oppure  soltanto dall'acqua e dal pane?
Dove sta l'essere in questa stanza? E' forse disteso su questo letto a scrivere? Forse.
Oppure si trova proprio nel pensiero che crea quel' atto?
L'esistenza umana è ridotta ad anni di vita, non secoli. Ciò che ci è stato dato l'abbiamo preso ed appreso, ci siamo impossessati ed ora fa parte di noi. Ci è stata data la vita dalla Natura ed essa ci ha pure delimitati.
" Ecco, voi siete parte di me, vivete e morite". Se è così noi dipendiamo gli uni dagli altri, non ha senso vivere soli sulla terra, abbandonati da nessuno. Non possiede alcuna logica.

Mercoledì 33.

Il mare non è sempre stato blu; una volta era violaceo e tutti gli animali potevano entrare nell'acqua senza dove trattenere il fiato. Si respirava nell'acqua, si stava bene. Soltanto quando arrivò l'uomo e ci mise il piede in acqua, essa si contrasse e divenne blu, scura e profonda. Il mare scelse di non dare accesso all'uomo e a quel diverso tipo di intelletto che si preparava a conquistare tutto ciò che mai gli potrà appartenere interamente. Per colpa sua le specie che abitavano la terra ferma dovettero separarsi da quelle marine.
Più l'uomo diventava avido ed egoista più il mare diventava profondo e salato. Non voleva finire nella bocca di quel animale strano che camminava su due stecchi con cinque rami piccoli, ben allineati ma sporchi. L'uomo costrinse il mare a piangere e non capì, non poteva capirlo poichè ora era lui il padrone.
Rashmi Apr 2020
Kahi kho se gayi hu
Khud ko hi dhundh rahi hu
Bechaini se chaa gayi hai man Mai
Shayad Mai kuch galat Kar rahi hu
Ya shayad sahi karne ki chah hai
Ya kahi ye to nahi sahi ko jaanti hi nahi
Man vichar raha hai
Man ki shaanti kahi kho si gayi hai
N jaane kyo ** raha hai ye
Apne aap par hi dhyaan nahi
N jaane kaha kho Diya hai Maine khud ko hi
Kya ** raha hai ,Kya hona cahiye
Kya sochti hu ,Kya karna cahti hu
Uljhan hi uljhan hai
Kuch samjhne ke kosis Kar rahi hi shayad
Ya shayad khud ko or uljhan Mai daal rahi hu
Kya ** raha hai Kya chah rahi hu
Kuch man vichran karne Mai laga hai
Kuch vyaakul para hai,kuch hissa to iska Jalan sheel ** rakah hai
Kuch apne aap se hi Lara hai
Kuch chin bhinn hone ko taoyaar nahi
Kuch khud ko phir se paane ki aash lagaye baitha hai
Man bas vyaakul ** rakha hai.
tangshunzi Jul 2014
Una cosa so per certo : quando una squadra di talento di fornitori si riunisce per una giornata di ispirazione .è un magico .cosa magica .Pensate Angela Roy Newton .Michelle Lange ed Eventi ( + molti.molti di più ) di tutte le forze che uniscono Kat Eitner per realizzare una giornata in stile boho di abbastanza .E 'un ambiente lussureggiante soddisfa tutte le cose impressionante e si può vedere ogni all'ultimo momento stupendo proprio qui in piena galleria .


E un film dolce da Nayeem Vohra Films .Si prega di aggiornare il tuo

browserColorsSeasonsSummerSettingsInnStylesBohemianRomantic Da Michelle Lange .Come fotografo .uno dei nostri compiti è abiti da sposa 2014 quello di essere un passo avanti a tutti gli altri.I nostri clienti sono i palpiti delle nostre imprese .e le decisioni e le azioni relative alla funzione di quelle imprese dovrebbero sempre tenere a mente che il battito cardiaco .Fin dall'inizio della mia attività .** avuto un molto dettagliato piano ' se qualcosa mai accaduto ' .Entrambi i miei genitori .mio marito hanno il piano dettagliato .Alcuni dei miei amici fotografi più vicini sono consapevoli del fatto che essi sono elencati come i contatti .Mai in un milione di anni avrei pensato che questo piano avrebbe dovuto entrare in vigore .ma il giorno prima di questa ripresa ispirazione ( mesi previsti in anticipo) .lo ha fatto .E il mio cuore le imprese non saltare un po ' .Credo davvero che una forza superiore mi ha fatto richiede una appendicectomia d'emergenza in un momento in cui ** avuto una pausa nella stagione dei matrimoni .La cosa più importante .è che venendo a contatto con ciò che è descritto nel mio piano .come un backup fotografo di emergenza .Angela Roy Newton intensificato al piatto per fotografare questa ispirazione ripresa ero così entusiasta per mesi.Questo la dice lunga su quelli di carattere e l'industria nel suo complesso .L'industria del matrimonio .mentre competitivo.è guidata da persone che amano l'amore e credono nel lavoro di squadra .Mentre spero di avere mai mettere questo piano di emergenza in vigore di nuovo .mi conforta sapere di quale grande industria sono una parte di .

Da Kat Eitner Eventi .Questa ripresa ispirazione sviluppato da una visione di elementi bohemien



e nido d'ape .I mobili antichi nera da Trunk Vintage vacanze erano lo sfondo perfetto per i pops di corallo a Karma tavolo Fiori e design bouquet.Mostra arresto Marchesa e Reem Acra abiti di Elizabeth Giovanni.trapuntata runner e non convenzionale bella tavola disegno floreale aggiunti elementi di Boemia.Speriamo di abiti da sposa 2014 ispirare le coppie di incorporare accattivanti elementi.come il nido d'ape o pop di colore .tutto il loro grande giorno .Fotografia
: Angela Roy Newton | Fotografia : Michelle Lange | Fotografia: Nayeem Vohra Films | Pianificazione : Kat Eitner Eventi | Cake: Cake Fiction | Inviti : Poco signorina signora | Abiti da sposa : Elizabeth Giovanni | Lavagna Arte: Chalk It UpTo Love | Fiori \u0026 Event design: Karma Flowers | capelli: StylesOnB | Località : Raritan Inn | Trucco : Nicole Makeup Artistry Sievers | vestiti da sposa Favors Profumo : Anthropologie | Noleggio Mobili Vintage: Affitto Trunk VintageElizabeth Johns e Angela Roy Newton Fotografia sono membri del nostro Little Black Book .Scopri come i membri sono scelti visitando la nostra pagina delle FAQ .Elizabeth Johns vedi portfolio Angela Roy Newton Fotografia VIEW
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Bohemian Inspiration Spara_abiti da sposa on line
Murari mohan Feb 2018
Khair choro ab rahney bhi doh,
Beetey wqt Ko jubaa pr aaney bhi doh,
Bhut Khel li Khel isq-mohbat ka,
Bachpan Ko jra zindagi se rubru honey doh!!

Bichurey saal Huey,
Na yaad hum aaye na tum,
Jaaney kaisey sbhi begaaney Huey,
USS gali se kyu anjaaney Huey!!

Sidhiyo pr chadhna seekha,sang mitti Mai girna,
Dosti ka mtlb ** ya pyaar ka fsana,
Hum sabney yhi seekha zindagi ka saath nibhana!!

Kya tum bhool gye wo yaadey,wo baatey,
Ghr jaaney ke raastey,
Barsaat Mai bheegtey,kichad Mai kudatey,
Bus ke pichey gulaab liye firtey,
Koi kuch khey toh whi adig ** jaatey!!

Kitni haseen hai wo yaadey, Bachpan ki baatey,
Fir kyu ek dujey se begaaney Huey,
USS gali se kyu anjaaney huey,!!

Khair choro ab rahney bhi doh,
Zindagi Ko Bachpan ki meethi yaado se rubru toh honey doh!!
S’io credesse che mia risposta fosse
        A persona che mai tornasse al mondo
        Questa fiamma staria senza più scosse.
        Ma perciocchè giammai di questo fondo
        Non tornò vivo alcun, s’i'odo il vero,
        Senza tema d’infamia ti rispondo.

Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherised upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question…
Oh, do not ask, ‘What is it?’
Let us go and make our visit.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.

And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to ****** and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

And indeed there will be time
To wonder, ‘Do I dare?’ and, ‘Do I dare?’
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair—
(They will say: ‘How his hair is growing thin!’)
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin—
(They will say: ‘But how his arms and legs are thin!’)
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

For I have known them all already, known them all—
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
  So how should I presume?

And I have known the eyes already, known them all—
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the ****-ends of my days and ways?
  And how should I presume?

And I have known the arms already, known them all—
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
(But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!)
Is it perfume from a dress
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
  And should I then presume?
  And how should I begin?

     . . . . .

Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows? …

I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.

     . . . . .

And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!
Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep … tired … or it malingers,
Stretched on on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head (grown slightly bald) brought in
     upon a platter,
I am no prophet—and here’s no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,
And in short, I was afraid.

And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worth while,
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it toward some overwhelming question,
To say: ‘I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all’—
If one, settling a pillow by her head,
  Should say: ‘That is not what I meant at all;
  That is not it, at all.’

And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while,
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail
     along the floor—
And this, and so much more?—
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
  ‘That is not it at all,
  That is not what I meant, at all.’

     . . . . .

No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—
Almost, at times, the Fool.

I grow old … I grow old …
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think that they will sing to me.

I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.

We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.
BeeVaishnavi Aug 2023
Aksar mai Jo dhikthi hoon
Woh hothi nahi,
Par woh dikawa nahi,
Haan nahi hoon mai bold ya sigma,
Mujhe doosron ke kushi se hi kushi
Miltha hai,
Thoda selfish kayal bhi aaya na,
Toh khud kushi lagtha hai,
Aur shahad mai yeh accept nahi karpai,
Par sach yahi hai,
Ki main kabi galat raasthe mai thi hi nahi,
Chahe gussa ** ya gham,
Haalath kaise bhi **,
Apno ke liye jaban se theer na dena,
Yeh bhi toh ek kala hai,
Aakir ghum mai bhi sahi hone ka sukh
Kithno ko miltha hai.
Ankit Dubey May 2019
Tum bheegna chahti thi baarish me hanth me hanth pakadkar,
Tum aana chahti thi jindagi me meri khushi bankar,
Chahti thi tum kabhi k mai tumoo baahon me bhar loo,
Sona chahti thi tum mere seene pe sar rakh kar,
Kha tumne hi ek din tha k tham lo haanth tum mera jindagi bhar k liye,
Mujhe bas apna bana lo tum aane vaale har pal k liye,
Har baar dil ko mere sunahre sapnr dikhaye tumne,
Kabhi mere haanthon ko choomkar to kabhi hanthon me haanth pakadkar,
Inkar tumko bhi nahi tha k tumhe mujhse mohabbat hai,
Sirf mujhko hi nahi tumhe bhi mujhse utni hi mohabbat hai,
Tumhar bhi kabhi khwahish thi k baal sanwaroo mai tumhare,
Ungliyon se pajadkar kaan k paas le jaaun sare,
Saath bitayen jindagi baant le har muskurahat aur ansoo aapas me hi saare,
Magar tanha is dil ko ehsaas hua jab toota ye sapna,
Meri khatao se rooth kar rukh mod liya  tumne jab apna,
Ab na baaki rah gayi jafa koi,
Tumhe vaapas bulane ki,
Tum mujhse door ** gayi ** chahat todkar apni,
Tum mujhse rooth jati ** ku vaade bhoolkar sare,
Ijaajat tumne hi di thi tumko satane ki,
Satata aaj b nahu hu,
Khata fir bhi ** jaati hai,
Chalo ek baar aa jao,
Na mujhse door tum jao,
Gunah mere kiye saare ,
Bhulakar dil ki ranjish ko paas aa jao tum mere,
Samajh jao dil ki tadpan ko nigahen mujhse na fero,
Aaajao is baar pyaar me kar le milkar k vaade sare poore,
Jo meri nasamjhi se abhi tak rah gaye adhoore,
Paas tum aa jao mere paas tum aa jao mere,
Ek tum hi to ** meri koi aur nahi kareeb shiva ek pyaar k tere.
I love u
Marco Bo May 2020
a song never sung
a symphony never played
a lesson never learned
a language never spoken
a Sun that never warmed my face,
I miss,
yet I know
I was born times again in forgotten suburbs of the world
I still cherish caresses and cuddles of that miracle fo mine
secret sounds good heat
hope for a new day
of silence and happiness
come what may
....................................
una canzone mai cantata
una sinfonia mai suonata
  una lezione mai imparata
una lingua mai parlata
  un Sole che non mi ha mai riscaldato il viso
  mi mancano
  eppure lo so
  che sono nato molte volte nelle periferie dimenticate del mondo
conservo ancora le carezze e la tenerezza di quel miracolo
  il segreto suono, il caldo buono
speranza di un giorno nuovo
di silenzio e felicità
e così sia
..........
una canción nunca cantada
una sinfonía nunca tocada
  una lección nunca aprendida
un idioma nunca hablado
  un Sol que nunca me calentó la cara
  yo extraño
  pero sé
  que nací muchas veces en los suburbios olvidados del mundo
todavía guardo las caricias y la ternura de ese milagro
  el sonido secreto, el cálido bien
esperanza de un nuevo día
de silencio y felicidad
y que así sea
............
une chanson jamais chantée
une symphonie jamais jouée
  une leçon jamais apprise
une langue jamais parlée
  un Soleil qui n'a jamais réchauffé mon visage
  ils me manquent
  pourtant je sais
  que je suis né plusieurs fois dans les banlieues oubliées du monde
Je garde toujours les caresses et les câlins de ce miracle
  le son secret, la bonne chaleur
espoir de un nouveau jour
de silence et de bonheur
ainsi soit-il

Marco Bo https://cantidallaperiferiadelmondo.blogspot.com/2020/05/isolamento-n-37-e-senza-troppi-discorsi.html
Dovrei essere proprio come te, Cuore di ghiaccio nero, Sii gentile, Un amico, come creare un'illusione, nella tua mente, sii vicino, fingi di essere reale, un modo per conoscere, i tuoi sogni, i tuoi piani, la tua prossima mossa ,

Quando vedo le tue aspirazioni, che ti portano avanti,

Essendo un maestro manipolatore, come te, pianificherò astutamente la tua caduta, come un giullare, ridendo con la folla, che sono convinto che tu sia sempre stato, nient'altro che quello di un immutabile intimidito.

Sei davvero solo un codardo, hai paura di qualcuno, fai solo uno sforzo per fare ciò che è meglio, hai paura di qualcuno, che non è nemmeno una minaccia per te, o per la posizione che occupi.

Dimostra la tua superiorità, fiducia in te stesso, essendo orgogliosamente audace! Il tuo orgoglio, la tua arroganza, la tua ignoranza, la tua cecità e la tua ipocrisia...

NO, non potrei mai essere come te, rovinando gli altri come fai tu, pensavo di essere lo sciocco, ora vedo, ora ** pace.

Quindi prego sinceramente. "Dio apri il suo cuore, per accettare la tua grazia straordinaria, attraverso di te, conosceremo entrambi la nostra parte, il nostro posto, e se non presto, allora in Paradiso, avremo

un'eternità da rifare. "Sì, ti amo sorella mia in Cristo!

- VenJencie Ⓒ Autore Ven J. Arnold
"I Could Never Be Like You," An earlier poem that I wrote is translated into Italian by me. The title is, "Non potrei mai essere come te."  ~SacredInkedBlood https://m.facebook.com/VenjencieCliftonArnold
Shrivastva MK Sep 2017
Teri khubsurat tasveer ko churane ko mann karta hai,
Tujhe dekh teri tasveer me muskurane ko mann karta hai,
Churalu mai tere sare gumo ko,
Phir se mujhe usi pyaar me kho jane ko mann karta hai,

Tujhe apna banane ko mann karta hai,
Tujhe duniya se chhupane ko Mann karta hai,
Na lag jaye tujhe duniya Ki nazar,
Khud kajal ban Teri aankhon me bas Jane ka Mann karta hai,

Bhawra ban phir se gungunane ko Mann karta hai,
Pawan ban tere baalon ko udane ka Mann karta hai,
Hamesha rahu mai tere pyare hothon par
Banke ek pyari si dhunn tere hothon se gungunane ko Mann karta hai....
“Even the streets leading up to its outer barriers were roamed by gorilla-faced guards in black uniforms, armed with jointed truncheons.”
                                                    ­ George Orwell, 1984* (published in 1949)

Which brings us, of course, to the subject of torture since 1949.
Come with me to the Casbah, Babaloo.
We begin in the 1950s with the French in North Africa,
****** baguettes in Algeria,
Couilles frits, anyone?
Electrodes wired to Mustapha’s *****.
And "Bigeard's Shrimps,” as the bodies were called,
Dumped over the Mediterranean from aircraft,
All things considered a je ne sais quoi,
Though Camus and Sartre gave it a whack.

Then the 1960s: the CIA dabbling in mind-control and LSD.
Later, a Phoenix Program,
Very secretive, sympathies with the Cong required,
Various elders selected,
The village disinfected,
**, **, ** and a bowl of Pho.

Apartheid anyone?
Thirty years of South African terror & torture.
Torment in the townships,
Shaka Zulu gold and diamonds,
De Beers in Swaziland swing.

1971: riots at Attica,
Prisoners abused and tortured,
Rockefeller’s overcrowded slammer,
An upstate New York katzenjammer,
Nelson’s finger on the trigger,
39 dead and counting,
But who’s counting?

The CIA, back in the news in 1973,
Torture chambers under Chilean soccer stadiums,
And the Khmer Rouge:
Those Wacky Cambodians with skull racks.  
And let us not forget the British,
With centuries of colonial experience behind them,
Occupy six counties in Northern Ireland.
Finally codify the imperial process,
The Five Techniques:
Sounds like a Motown group,
Satin smooth colored boys,
But more method than music:
(1) Wall-standing,
(2) Hooding,
(3) Subjection to noise,
(4) Sleep deprivation,
(5) No food and drink.

And there’s a bunch of horrible ****,
We still don’t know about the Argentine ***** War,
And other Mai Lai-like,
****-fest massacres in Vietnam.

How about torture since 1984?
Abu Ghraib and Guantanamo,
Come quickly,
(www.prematureejaculatorsanonymous.com)
To mind,
As do US-sponsored rendition facilities,
Spread throughout the NATO alliance.
And closer to home, it’s never a dull moment in the 5 Boroughs:
Brooklyn, Queens, Staten Island, The Bronx and Manhattan.
Take your pick from Giuliani’s Greatest Hits,
Rudy Kazootie’s campaign of law and order,
Not necessarily in that order.
More awful than lawful,
A bathroom plunger rammed up,
The Haitian voodoo ****** of Abner Louima,
While he be handcuffed at a Brooklyn station house.
Or, the NYPD partying like it was 1999.
When in fact, it was1999,
And a curious death it was for Amadou Diallo,
Would-be American citizen from The Republic of Guinea,
(No connection to Italy or Italians),
Abner & Amadou: a pair of cautionary tales,
Either/or reflecting standard procedure for the Po-Po,
Time and time again from coast to coast.
Either/or: poor Abner, no Haitian Papa Doc.
Poor Amadou, on his way home from night school,
When police squeeze off 41 rounds,
Most of them in his direction,
Hitting him 19 times.
Just the facts, ma’am:
Diallo had reached into his jacket.
A trigger-happy police officer yells “Gun.”
A jungle warfare quartet springs into action:
Shenzi, Banzai, Ed & Zazu,
Four equally trigger-happy colleagues,
Empty their weapons.
No gun was found on Diallo,
Only the wallet he tried to pull out,
Containing his Green Card,
4 U.S. dollar bills;
And a laminated,
Credit card-sized copy of the U.S. Bill of Rights.
(I just didn’t know when to quit, did I?
The wallet was there with Green Card and the bucks,
But I made up the part about the Bill of Rights,
Trying to add poetry to tragedy, as usual.)

I don’t have to say much about Rodney King (RIP).
You watched it on TV a hundred times,
And a picture’s worth a thousand words.
Or ten thousand or a million, I suppose.
“Can’t we all just get along?” asked Rodney Glen King.

Last but not least there’s Kelly Thomas (RIP),
Another incidence of police insanity,
It was July of 2011 in Fullerton, California.
Thomas, a 37-year-old homeless man,
Schizophrenic, but unarmed,
Beaten to death at a bus depot,
During an altercation with six Fullerton police officers.
Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2019225/Kelly-Thomas-Poli­­ce-beat-taser-gentle-mentally-ill-homeless-man­-death.html#ixzz1e­3­4QnHtr

Mervyn Lazarus | Attorney | (www.mervlazarus.com) Police Brutality, Excessive Force and Jail Injury cases | California . . . Albuquerque

Jackie Chiles perfect attorney -YouTube, (www.youtube.com/watch?v=jpcEietIoxk) Nov 17, 2010 - 13 min - Uploaded by Kroeger22 All the scenes with Jackie Chiles from Seinfeld."Chiles is a parody of famed attorney Johnnie Cochran; both ... www.seinfeld.com

Perhaps the greatest torture of all,
Is that which artists subject us to.
Let us examine the case of Roberto Bolaño:
Roberto Bolaño, the great Chilean writer,
Tells a fabulous World War II story,
About a Spaniard--an Andalusian--
Fighting for the Germans against the Russians.
Captured by the Russians,
He is tortured for information.
The Spaniard speaks no Russian,
He knows only four words of German.
The Russian interrogators strap him into a chair,
Attach electrodes to his *****,
Attach pincers to his tongue.
The pain makes his eyes water.
He said--or rather shouts--the word coño.
It is Spanish for ****.
The pincers in his mouth,
Distort the expletive,
Which in his howling voice comes out as KUNST.
The Russian who knows German looks at him in puzzlement.
The Andalusian was yelling KUNST,
Yelling KUNST and crying in pain.
KUNST in German means art,
And that was what the bilingual Russian heard, KUNST.
“This ******* must be an artist or something.”
The torturers remove the pincers,
Along with a little piece of tongue,
And wait, momentarily hypnotized by the revelation:
The word ART had soothed the savage beasts.
So soothed, the savage beasts take a breather,
Waiting for some kind of signal.
Meanwhile, the Andalusian bleeds from the mouth,
Swallows his blood liberally mixed with saliva, and chokes.
The word coño,
Transformed into the word *KUNST,

Had saved his life.
It was dusk when he came out of the building.
Light stabbed at his eyes like midday sun.

So, it’s a fact that I love,
Truly love the simple blunt Anglo-Saxon expletive ****,
****: I pray that while I am being tortured some day,
I have the dignity to scream the word out loud.
And if I am screaming **** at the very end,
When my nervous system finally fails,
When I **** my pants,
When my pulmonic heart and lungs collapse,
Is that so bad?
Is that so wrong?

Do you realize that 1984 came--
Came and went, without any significant cultural hoopla?
The networks ignored it.
As did the cable pundits.
No significant comparative analysis between,
Orwell’s book 1984 and the year 1984,
Was broadcast electronically or publicized in print.
Steve Jobs got it, but as usual no one else did.
Mr. Jobs (RIP) did his best,
To mainstream its profound cultural relevance,
But ultimately failed,
Despite the $1.5 million he paid one of the networks,
To air a one minute nation-wide commercial,
During the 3rd Quarter,
Of Super Bowl XVIII,
January 22, 1984.
Despite Ridley Scott’s astonishing spell-binder,
His 60-second spot for The Macintosh 128K--
Still considered a watershed event,
And an advertising industry masterpiece,
…YouTube it and watch it.  (www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z8ji0B98IMo).
See the hammer throwing athlete chick,
See her fling the sledge,
That huge sledgehammer,
Smash into Big Brother’s flat screen face.
Despite Jobs’ global presence,
Despite Steverino’s unfettered microphone access,
Whenever he felt an oraculation coming on,
Despite everything,
He was unable to move the powers that be,
To either hype the book or the prophecy come true.

So, what’s my point? I have two.
First, in April 1984 the estate of George Orwell,
And the television rights holder to the novel 1984,
Considered the edgy Jobs/Scott commercial to be,
A flagrant copyright infringement,
Sending a cease-and-desist letter to Apple Inc.
And the advertising agency that produced the spot: Chiat/Day Inc.
The commercial was never televised as a commercial after that.  
Score: Lawyers 1, Artists 0.

My second point is that in November 2011,
The U.S. government argued before the U. S. Supreme Court,
That it wants to continue utilizing GPS tracking of individuals,
Without first seeking a warrant.
In response, Justice Stephen Breyer (one of the sane ones),
Questioned what this means for a democratic society.
Referencing Nineteen Eighty-Four, Justice Breyer asked:
"If you win this case, then there is nothing,
To prevent the police or the government from monitoring 24/7,
The public movement of every citizen of the United States.
So if you win, you suddenly produce what sounds like 1984 . . .”*

My third point,
(Yeah, I know I said two, but *******.)
My third point is that I’m just so ******* angry,
All the time, late and soon like Wordsworth,
(Was anyone more aptly named?)
I am angry about so many different things,
And every day that goes by I relate more and more,
To the thousands of Americans that occupied,
Zuccotti Park and Oakland,
And countless other venues,
Out into the streets.
Across the country.
Around the world.  
I am humbled by their courage and perseverance.
Yet, I am afraid for them.
I am made paranoid by the scope and power,
Of the government,
Of the ruling class that controls it,
And the technology they allow us to embrace,
Technology’s sinister potential,
Now that more and more knowledge and information,
Has been digitized,
Existing only in cyberspace.                                                      ­                                                 
What frightens most is the realization,
That anyone with a word processor,
And access to the database could rewrite,
Any historical or legal document,
To fit the needs of a current agenda.
The scary part is—
Repeating myself for emphasis—
That anyone with a word processor
And access to the database could rewrite,
Any historical or legal document,
To fit the needs of a current agenda.

Does anyone out there give a ****?
Does anyone out there share my nightmare?
Do it to Julia.
Do it to Julia.
Ki badlne  ko in ankho ke manjar kam nahi badle
Tumhari yaad ke mausham humare gum nahi badle,
Tum agle janm me humse milogi tab to maanogi,
Jamane aur sadi ki is badal me hum nahi badle...

Ki koi kab tak faqat soche ,koi kab tak faqat gaye
Illahi kya ye mumkin hai ki kuch aisa v ** jaye ,
Mera ahtaab uski raat ke aagosh me pighle
mai uski neend me jaagu wo mujhme ghul ke soo jaye..
Copyright© Shashank K Dwivedi
email-shashankdwivedi.edu@gmail.com
Follow me on Facebook-https://www.facebook.com/skdisro
Safana Nov 2023
(ALHAJI (DR.) AMINU ADO BAYERO)
Kakkaki
Bidigar Sarki

Jama'ar birni ku fito...
Makasau Dan Bakan Dabo Ya fito.

Makasau Sarkin Kano Ya fito
Dan Bakan Dabo, Sarki ya fito
Aminu Ado, sai da kayi ya fito
Saki a kano mai tumbe ya fito

Jikan Dabo me ado dan bakan Dabo
Makasau sarkin kano mai adon Dabo
Me kyautar nera da anini da da kwabo
A tarihi nasa an duba kaf babu tabo
Ya mike ya tafi al'uma suna ta Odabo

Tgwayen sarkin Bichi da kano
Fata nasa kowa ya ci a kwano
Talawansa su mori dandano
Na mulki nasa a ***** da Kano
Tare da **** a kyakkyawan kwano

Jikan Bayero sam baka da raini
A cikin dami da sanyi ko ko a rani
Jama'a na kaunar ka fanni fanni
Saboda kautar nera da anini
Da jin kai ga talakawan ka a birni

Kirkin ka ya zagawa birni da kauye
Ta ko ina alherin ka ya mamaye
Gwani, Idan kayi alheri baka waiwaye
Saboda a cikin alheri kake a zagaye
Hm! makiyan ka kullum za su karairaye

Mai hakuri dan mai hakuri, Makasau
Ka jure hawan Sallah har zuwa fanisau
Akan ingarman dikin ka kamar kosau
Wanda babu irin sa ko an je misau

Muhammadu Aminu dan Ado Bayero
Garnakaki namiji a kyuatar ka ba zero
Tsabar ilimin ka turawan sun baka biro
Cacnselo a calaba ka wuce a ce Pro
Sharrin makiyan k ba ya zuwa ko sun huro

dan Bakan Dabo jikan dabo me jalla
In ka fito, kwalliyar ka kowa sai ya kalla
ana rububin alaka da kai sai an kulla
Amma su wancanan ka sai anyi talla
Kai! a kano kai kadai ne sarki zalla

Kai ka yi kama da Bakan Dabo Ado
Mai martaba marigayi sarkin ado
Tabbas wannan haka yake kayo gado
Tun da ka dare karagar mulkin ka na gado
hakika makiyan ka ko sun bi sai sun gudo

Ina me ja ya zo ga me tsinkawa
Wani ya taba ja mun kai **** takalmawa
sai da yayi tattaki ya bi ta wudilawa
Ya rtsa gonaki yabi ketaren farawa
gashi ta maimaita carki ya tafi ba dwowa

Makasau ginshiki ne ga kano da kanawa
makasau dirka ne ga kano ba karyewa
Makasau Uba ne ga kano ba sauyawa
Makasau ka gaji bakan dabo babu adawa
Makasau ne sarki daya a kani anyi yabawa
Dharmendra Kumar Apr 2020
Kahna tum bhi chahti **
Kahna Mai bhi chahta hu
Bas un shbto ka juba pe aana Baki hai
Chalna tum bhi chahti **
Chalna Mai bhi chahta hu
Bas us dagar ka milna Baki hai
Bhigna tum bhi chahti **
Bhigna Mai bhi chahta hu
Bas badal ka garaj ke hampe barashna Baki hai
Dag tum pe bhi lagengye
Dag mujh pe bhi lagengye
Bas kuch logo ka hampe hasna Baki hai
Ruth Kai tum bhi baithi **
Ruth Kar Mai bhi baitha hu
Tera mujhko, Mera tujhko manana Baki hai
Ankit Dubey May 2019
Dard bhi khud hi dete ** dawa bhi khud hi dete **,
Khata jab bhi mai kqrta hu saja bhi tum hi dete **,
Pyar bhi mujhse karte **,
Juda fir bhi kyun rahte **,
Chahna tumko aadat hai,
Jindagi me tum shamil **,
K tum meri hasrat **,
Ye kaise bhool jate **.......
Mana k gam judai ka tumhe bhi tadpata hai,
Rulata hai tumhe bhi tumhe bhi dard hota hai,
Fir bhi khamosh hokar na jane ku sah lete **,
Tasavvur mera hai tu mujhe manjoor karte **,
Aansoo bahne lagte hai jab tum yaad aate **,
Beraj hu mai tumse fir bhi tum rooth jate **,
Jindagi hai tumhari  ab ise kyun bhool jate **,
Chahta tumko itna hu fir bhi kyun door rahte **,
Bhool jao jamane ko paas mere aa jao,
Tum mujhse pyar karti **
Mai yumse pyar karta hu..

— The End —