"mel" poems
High Anxiety
takes another look at the sprawling quilt of life
weighed down by pounds of gear
and wonders if leaping from the plane is worth the ride
Nov 13, 2012
Nov 13, 2012 at 2:19 AM UTC
Malcom was fed 16 bullets because of his. A slug kissed the jaw of King Jr. and silenced him forever. Gandhi shriveled like snakeskin. Joan of Arc became Joan of Ash- so you can understand why Melle Mel was jittery scribbling it all down, on a napkin, at Lucy's Noodle Shop in Harlem. Sweat poured into his green tea. He thought Jesus hanging from the dull wood. Heard about the poet Lorca under an olive tree, shot in the back. Everyone has felt this way through, he thought, never could he have imagined what would happen when he pressed his thumbprint into vinyl. Hip-Hop was still a tadpole. The DJ had just learned to scratch a record and make sounds no ear had never conjugated. How was he to know Tupac and Biggie would follow his lead and get plugged with lead? So he wrote it down, in big curling letters, emphatic: DON'T PUSH ME
Nov 5, 2015
Nov 5, 2015 at 4:42 PM UTC
Moments like these racing through me:
Looking out the bus window,
stacks of lights
in square, blinded blocks of cement.
Golden trees
turning brown and barren.
But moments like these,
I'm miles away, I'm someplace else.
Moments like these passing me by:
As I wonder through streets,
alleyways wafting in dark sewerage;
Seafood bistros glaring at me.
My hips sway, my feet sink
into exotic sand, sunshine warm.
Floating effortlessly along the dead concrete,
opening my tiny door; this nutshell abode.
And I can’t breathe here
without moments like these.
They are the broken pieces
of my longing heart.
Slowly keeping me together
in these moments’ reality.
Moments like these, slipping, speeding away:
Like endless traffic in angry madness,
in cities that awaken in darkening hours.
The tranquil silence in my heart
guides me to your faces.
One by one I dream for each;
For all the things we want, the good things we need;
For happiness, love, success.
Each thought embedded, embroidered
into moments like these:
Sitting on a bed, millions of miles away,
a cold, rainy day –
A heart beating for moments not these.
(c) Mel D. Ltd. 2010
Nov 12, 2010
Nov 12, 2010 at 9:46 PM UTC
I don't have any emotions anymore
Sometimes, I don’t know if I’m having a feeling
Or I am dreaming, while I am awake?
Some might think that my mind
is exploring my emotions
while looking for happiness,
So I decided to bake a melodrama cake
Nope! I meant mel-o-cream butter pound cake
The ingredient is my path to getting my feelings back
Egg, butter, flour, sugar, raisins,
baking powder and a little milk
I just want to transfer my feeling,
with some logical thinking..
Somewhere, deep within a non stanzaic,
and syllabic poem forms by the minute
It’s going to trend like this cake,
which is going to be bake with love
Poetry is everywhere,
creaming my butter and sugar is poetic
because butter and sugar never stick together. It also
reminds me of Nana’s golden brown patties, tasty and spicy
Adding the eggs, nutmeg, baking powder, brings out the
natural female traits in this Island girl,
without my empowering dreads
The raisins and the baking powder remind me of
The Rise of Radical African American Activism,
And all that rises, rise in due degree
so poetry is everywhere
it's in everything we say and do.
Oct 7, 2015
Oct 7, 2015 at 9:03 AM UTC
A swansong of the Indian Partition...
Kal humaare ghar ke diye bujhe rahenge,
Kal hum kuch rishton ke liye rote rahenge...
Tomorrow the lamps of our home will remain put out,
Tomorrow we shall keep crying for some relations...
Rishte un bantwaara hue kheton se,
Rishte un bhatakte hue jawaanon se...
Relations with those partitioned farmlands,
Relations with those misguided young men...
Rishte us chamakti Multani mitti se,
**Rishte us damakti Pakhtunkhwi **** se...**
Relations with the glistening soil of Multan,
Relations with the bright snow of Pakhtunkhwa...
Rishte Ganga ke us Bangali muhaane se,
Rishte Sindhu dariya aur samudr ke us mel se...
Relations with the Ganga's Bengali estuary,
Relations with the confluence of Indus and the Sea...
Rishte us Balouchi kapaas se,
Rishte udhde un kapdon se...
Relations with that Balouchi cotton,
Relations with those clothes torn away...
Rishte luti us izzat se,
Rishte mari us bahu se...
Relations with the disrobed honour,
Relations with the slain bride...
Rishte jo sajaaye the mandap mein,
Rishte jo likhaaye the jannat mein...
Relations decorated inside the temple,
Relations written in the paradise...
**********
Aug 14, 2019
Aug 14, 2019 at 2:10 PM UTC
Dat ***** Though
Hey girl, I see you at da club, shaking dat *****
And all I can think about is how that *** would soothe me.
You lookin' so fresh like celery. Baby, why don't you
come over here and put a bell on me?
I'll be your cat, rub my nose in your lap,
and you can be my doggy. We can do it in style, for a while.
Then jump in the shower, so you can wash me with your lotions
Rub your magic all over me like your hands are made of potions.
Then let's jump back in bed and keep our bodies in motion.
Girl, you fine like China, like Flo from Mel's diner.
You hotter than Tabasco, and I know you think I'm whacko,
But you got a ***** that makes me crazy.
I want you to haze me, daze me,
and if you say no, it probably won't phase me.
I'll just write poetry about you and me
as if it were real because nothin' gonna stop the way I feel.
Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 11:38 PM UTC
It was the time of summer where every kid had silently realized that it was ending,
No longer halfway through, no longer half full
Leaking and spilling out,
like the gas in my twenty two year old car
We couldn’t stop it,
And the moments of high school summertime
The moments that supposedly turn into stories we tell forever
Hadn’t seemed to have happened.
Both of us on the swing lazily swung
Dizzily from side to side.
Climbing forward, falling in reverse
Our combined bodyweight shifting back and forth
Tanned legs kicking up in an attempt at unison on every backwards glide.
Gravity hung us there,
Pulling the swing toward the ground no matter the rotation.
I sat on top.
I wore bleached shorts and bleached hair.
I worried that gravity or more so my value to it
would crush him.
At the same time, I felt unbelievably small.
The air pressed in on me from all angles,
it touched my bare legs
it easily waffled my shirt.
“Mel, if you were squishing me, I would let you know”,
he assured with a cocky tone of his very own that somehow made me feel special.
I couldn’t help but think he was only trying to be tough
Attempting to let sheer willpower overweigh my well earned quads,
My six foot frame.
The awkward body I never quite grew into
Never knew how to masterfully control
Never knew how to fill.
Though I secretly (wanted to) truly believe him
On this humid night I felt like the ball was in my court,
Like I could do anything and everything.
That nothing could go wrong
That the boy that I was sitting on was genuine
And that I could simply drive off to wherever.
(I had a full tank of gas and enough money to get me to Alabama).
I felt small in this,
in this infinity of possibility all around me.
Like a weight was pushing into me
Putting on pressure that couldn’t be ignored
That shrunk me just enough.
I felt powerless to fate
Powerless to this planet
To this grand, glorified hunk of earth which was so much greater than me
(and surely my insignificant weight anxieties).
I felt like the gas was leaking out faster than I could use it.
I felt like my infinity was disappearing as I swung within it.
Just like that, I let the ball drop and the gas leak out.
We just kept swinging.
Laughing,
Wasting,
Talking,
Dying.
Mar 19, 2013
Mar 19, 2013 at 10:16 PM UTC
‘Apocalypto’ is a film set in a Maya civilisation and consists of a story that takes place in one tribe and how a passing tribe affects them to a degree of destruction. The story unfolds in a linear way of storytelling which is basic but still effective. From director Mel Gibson, the director of ‘Braveheart’ and ‘Passion of the Christ’. An underrated director of sorts but a great one nonetheless. Overlooked due to his acting career, he has been holding back on us as a director.
The characters are set to be living a Mayan life and go about their days behaving as such but are rather generous and civilized for such an old race of people. They live peacefully and secluded until they interact with another tribe which brings about their downfall. And the way in which a Mayan civilization might go about solving problem as common as a natural disaster. Through sacrifices to the God's as a way to solve problems and mass results. Very accurate to the Mayan culture as well as the entire movie taking place without one word of English, all dialogue being said in the Mayan language. Another credit to the film.
The directing style for this film is beautiful and flawless to say the least. No shaky cam used or hand held cam either. All fluent movement of the camera to create a great story, one that flows naturally. The use of camera angles is creative and different, using tilted angles to convey a certain mood and straight framed shots to convey another mood.
The performances stand out as a huge positive, the actors who I have honestly never heard of give Oscar worthy performances. Mel Gibson uses unknown actors as not to compromise the film by the status of the actors. These actors and actresses give a hard performance based on body language and quiet moments, the enduring task of learning to be emotional through a foreign language. Which is why I would guess Mel Gibson used local actors who are more aware of the Mayan language than American actors.
The set design is truly Oscar worthy in this film. The Mayan temples and tribe lands are captured perfectly in the sets for this film. Well build and suited towards the amazon environment. As well as good filming locations, using the wonders of the amazon rainforest as an advantage.
In final thoughts, I believe that Mel Gibson is a stunning director with an eye for detail and a beautiful visual director. A director that can produce great work. ‘Apocalypto’ to me in the near future will become a period piece masterpiece. A tale of survival and dedication that will live on through the ages.
Rating: Film - 8.4
Personal - 8.9
Sep 29, 2016
Sep 29, 2016 at 12:02 PM UTC
june tenth
the pale lamp in my room is flickering again,
you told me fifty three times to fix it,
i never did.
september twenty-first
every morning i drink apple juice,
you liked orange juice and always asked me to buy some,
i never did.
september twenty-fifth
wednesday: the day you were born,
once you were gone i was supposed to forget,
i never did.
october third
halloween is coming up,
you told me to dress up as captain america,
i never did.
may second
it's spring time and the flowers are hopping up from their beds, (another thing i never did)
i can't believe the world still goes on but,
i never did.
may eighteenth
i read the fifth harry potter book,
i skipped two and four; you once told me to write my own story,
i never did.
may twenty-seventh
you always laid out my meds for me on our lillypad green paper napkins,
but whenever i'd take them you'd vanish, so,
i never did.
june first
i played a mel tormé record,
you said i had a better voice than him whenever i sang along but,
i never did.
june sixth
i cried for the first time in three days,
the world felt heavier today, i tried to let it crush me but,
it never did.
june tenth
now its been,
well,
time seems a bit funny to me now a days.
but i guess its probably been two months or so,
but the calendar says four years,
but the calendar wouldn't be the first thing to lie to me in here.
but i want to let you know:
i don't have lamps now,
i only am allowed water,
they never tell me what day it is,
i haven't even seen a halloween since your absence,
the only thing close to flowers in here is the pattern on my gown,
the "library" here ***** there is a total of nine books. they are all gross romance novels,
my meds now come in a tiny paper cup four times a day,
they only play country here and thats only on music therapy days,
the world floated up
up
up
and away, i assume it took you with it,
i guess it is just and fair that this happened to me,
i mean look at all the things you asked that i did not do for you,
but i asked you one thing,
and you said you'd always be with me, but,
you never did
no one ever did
Feb 22, 2015
Feb 22, 2015 at 2:24 PM UTC
.
**•atop the mast billows
my wind-tossed rag•grinning skull embla-
zoned proud•the starkness of black upon my flag
•piercing the encroaching sea mist and shroud•her-
ald the sight of the jolly roger • instilling trepidation
in all who sail through my turf • fuelled by the thirst
to pillage and plunder•others before, have sunk into
graves beneath the surf•my salt encrusted timber
creaks a frightening low growl•
my hull would pum- mel thro-
ugh the opposing waves• my sails bloat full trapping
winds that howl•my deck bears the screams
of a thousan- d slaves•know
me, seafarers... i am no legend but
truth•avast! seafarers, i am the tale
that looms•believe me, seafarers for i
am ca- pable of all things**
••• •••
**uncouth •fear me,
seafarers for i am your
doom•you could sail the seas with
the world's most skillful of crew•
you cannot deny the
inevitable
heavy hand of fate•be-
cause once my vessel comes
within view •you would
know for certain that it's already
••••••• •••••••
••••• •••••**
too late•
Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 11:39 AM UTC
I can't stop to chat
Sorry, I'm really busy
There's so much to do
I'm getting quite dizzy
Wallpapering, painting
And a whole lot of chores
Along with scrubbing and replacing
Handles on doors
Carpentry's enjoyable
A skill that I relish
But it tires me out
So for a break, I'll wish
Got a five minute break
Rush a quick cigarette
And a well-earned coffee
Then back off to work I set
Packing my boxes
And many a bag
Put them all in the attic
So tired, it's a drag
Hoovering all day
Kitchen needs cleaning
For the fourth time today
Then the garden needs preening
Make something to eat
To recharge energy
Sit down for a moment
With another coffee
Then it's time to go shopping
For food, drinks and more
Come back to yelling
As I walk through the door
"Mel, help me out!"
"Mel, pass me that!"
"Mel, clean the carpet...
The pup crapped on that!"
"Mel, make a coffee!"
"A sandwich might help!"
"Then get back to work!"
I can't help but yelp
Back to more painting
And scrubbing the halls
Cleaning the windows
And papering more walls
Then rest for a while
With a lovely big meal
To end the working day
And help muscles to heal
I'm aching all over
And I can't seem to sleep
So restless and sore
The job-pile's too steep
Toss and turn all night
I'm going insane
But I have to get up in the morning
And do it all again
Apr 6, 2013
Apr 6, 2013 at 8:28 AM UTC
Listening to George Jones.
Or Mel Tillis.
Or Maybe Mickey Gilley.
I'm just a country boy listening to a country song.
Good loving.
Or a good feeling.
I'm just a country boy listening to a country song.
Listening to the original Statler Brothers.
Singing Flowers on the Wall.
Or Marty Robbins singing My Woman, My Woman, My Wife.
There's nothing greater then a good country song.
Whether it's by Johnny Cash.
Or Johnny Paycheck.
Or Roger Miller singing Dang It.
There's just nothing like a good country song.
Sure they reminds you of the blues.
Or the blues reminds you of country.
Either way the message is cleared.
There's nothing like a good country love song.
Throw in some Tammy Wynette.
Or Loretta Lynn.
Or play you some Dolly.
And you'll see the story happening.
Cause there's nothing like a good country song.
Jul 21, 2012
Jul 21, 2012 at 10:45 PM UTC
Among the glitter and the glamour there's a lonely girl
A little diamond in the desert, lost in this world
In the shadows of the city there must be light somewhere
And so we search for answers, keeping faith in prayer
Melanie's whispers float flawless on the wind
So very faint but I can hear you my friend
Your silhouette dances across the desert land
Are you dancing with God
Is He holding your hand
The path of the missing is a long and frightening road
Sadly there are thousands my friend you're not alone
As I watched the news I never ever thought I'd see
Someone I love disappear into a mystery
Your picture is on fliers and in your daughters' hearts
Someone please come forward; we are stumbling in the dark
One lone footprint leads to destination unknown
We will keep on searching 'til you are finally home
Melanie's whispers float flawless on the wind
So very faint but I can hear you my friend
Your silhouette dances across the desert land
Are you dancing with God
Is He holding your hand
Where are yoooooooou Melanie...
where are yoooooou Melanie..
where are yoooooou Melanie
Can you hear uuuuuss
Silence overwhelming what once was filled with song
We miss you Mel..so much that were trying to be strong
As I listen to the quiet, wishing I could hear
You saaaaay, "I am right heeere"
Melanie's whispers float flawless on the wind
So very faint but I can hear you my friend
Your silhouette dances across the desert land
Are you dancing with God
Is He holding your hand
Melanie's whispers float flawless on the wind
So very faint but I can hear you my friend
Your silhouette dances across the desert land
Are you dancing with God
Is He holding your hand
Where are yoooooooou Melanie...
where are yooou Melanie..
where are yooooou Melanie
Can you hear uuuuussss
©
Mar 3, 2014
Mar 3, 2014 at 10:31 AM UTC
Journal Entry #11
People in my life always ask me why I don't date, my mother included. And we can now add my therapist to that list as well.
I told my therapist I find dating humorous and annoying currently.
I think my answer caught her by surprise as she smiled at me and then asked why?
So I decided throwing out actual scenarios would be my best course of action.
I told her for starters I'm completely oblivious when a guy is interested.
For instance:
My Mother: "Honey, why didn't you end up going out with that nice boy, he seemed like a good person for you?
My Response: "Mom, I planned on going out with him. But then I started watching that movie What Woman Want with Mel Gibson, and I came to the conclusion that I'd rather not wear pants.
So I never left my apartment."
~~~~~~~~~~
My best friend: "Hey, that guy over there keeps looking at you. He's totally checking you out!"
My Response: "Naw, he probably has something in his eye and just so happens to be looking in my general direction. He was probably eating something spicy and touched his face. You don't know!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
My Sister: "Umm, that man was clearly hitting on you. He was just just taken by you, it was so obvious! He was smiling at you the entire time."
My Response: "Naw, he was just really interested in what my preferences on vacuums were."
~~~~~~~~~~~
My therapist laughed at my awkward interactions with men and then went on to say,
"Clearly men are interested in you, but maybe you're just not ready to even be open to the idea of dating again, and that's why you really don't see when men are actually interested in you. How do you feel about that?"
My Response: "I think in part that's very true. But I also think that the idea of actually having to put on pants and talk to men is just a huge no thanks. I think the day I even humor another mans existence will be the day a man makes me happier than eating bread in a pile of freshly washed laundry.
A girls gotta have her standards."
Apr 8, 2018
Apr 8, 2018 at 4:37 PM UTC
In my office me and Gonzo waited speaking on deep issues
with no true meaning as usual.
Bastardo's heart had been broken for Drew had left him a beaten and
love bitten luchador slash attorney.
Senior Gonzo speaking endlessly to the hat rack had reminded me why
I never dropped acid anymore.
Poor gonzo had just been served with divorce papers to which
his only response was ****** amigo i never knew i was married.
As his attorney i belived a trip to mexico was outta the question for i had just got back do to some well a misunderstanding its legal
jargin you couldnt possibly understand.
His deadline was near and without my solid advise this man wouldnt be able to pull it off so being we had been in the bar for more than
eight hours we decided to make a exit through the mens room window.
Front doors are over rated.
In my legal office slash camper hey eveyone starts somewhere
okay.
I was reminded of my loved hellcat Drew
she had left many items here a satanic bible her boil cream.
how I did mis rubbing her webbed toes.
How was i to work Gonzo was a mess hidding under the table
so the ginger bread people couldnt find him
and return him to there bitter talentless leader
Kate Perry i swear if you stab me one more time senior gonzo
with that fork in my maracas im going to get medevile on your ***
Oh how i missed my tag team partner drew.
i should never have introduced her el man donkey who
resist such a uhh personallity.
But now here I sit with a madman under my table tripping his
***** off insisting I contact Simon Cowell to inform him
man tities are so yesterday.
If only I had gotten the Lindsy Lohan case I would finally have gotten my brake or maybe just a std.
Oh well theres always hope Mel Gibson will need me.
The road warrior was a true classico and he seemed so well
balanced compared to my reallity challenged cilent.
Remember kids if ever you have a chance to trip with senior Gonzo
its probaly best you hide all sharp objects.
adios Bastardo
Jul 15, 2010
Jul 15, 2010 at 8:10 AM UTC
Although she didn’t use these exact words,
What it got down to was:
“My **** hurts!”
Your age-appropriate **** buddy
Experiencing a profound lubrication deficit.
Vaginal dryness:
A legitimate topic these days for
Baby-Boom conversation.
“65: the New 30,” the slogan rings.
A Mel Brooks clarion call,
Harvey Corman doing Count Da Money:
"Don't get saucy with me, Bearnaise!"
For all our good friends at
KY, Vaseline & Astroglide--
As recommended by female OB/GYNs,
(Should there be any other kind?)
Sales projections are rosy for
Ottmar’s Coconut Cooch Oil,
Despite the economic downturn,
So, naturally, you commence your
Search for a young, wet—sopping wet—co-ed,
Running the risk of bumping into
Some UC Berkeley ****
Who digs older gentlemen, and
Knows your daughter, Gwendolyn.
Jun 27, 2014
Jun 27, 2014 at 1:38 PM UTC
Sunflowers, daisy's and tulips too,
these are things that remind me of you.
Animals of many to them you are kind,
geese, dogs and chickens in your garden you will find.
Bright colors your a hippy chick you own it so well,
a friend in you that's my Auntie Mel.
Miss Melanie your canny plenty of good times that we've shared,
I know i'm not always there but for you I've always cared.
Your lovely little ornaments your wacky hippy ways,
I often think of the good times I miss the olden days.
Sunflowers, Daisy's and tulips too,
I really miss you and all that you do.
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 12:28 PM UTC
10 years ago you left this earth
10 years ago you died
you quit breathing
and I continued
you no longer smile
laugh
or cry
10 years ago you stopped living
yet I continued
and now
I gained eternal life
a life that was meant for you
and now
in everything I do
I can only think of you
and when I remember that you are dead
sometimes I wish
that I was you
-mel
Mar 31, 2021
Mar 31, 2021 at 3:46 PM UTC
"Hey Arya, want to go see that new movie that JUST came out? Ya know the one about the *******
"Maybe tomorrow Melodric. I'm kinda tired right now, kay?", Arya replies
"oh...okay, Tomorrow then, i'll hold you to that you know!", Melodric replies teasingly
Arya laughs, "Yeah, Yeah, anyway, I'm headed home, night Mel"
"Night Arya, uh, hey, want me to walk you home? i heard that the crime rate has gone up in town recently, Ya never know their next target."
"I'll be fine Mel, go home dufus!"
"ok,ok...See ya Tomorrow"
"yeah, tomorrow"
****
"That the girl we after?"
"Sure is"
"like the rest?"
"yup."
"hehehehe...Lets get'r"
****
"Rain, Rain, go away, plaese don't come back another day!", Arya giggles then freezes as a black van suddnely pulls up beside her and she watches two men quickly hop out and start towards her.
Arya ran
She didn't get far...
The two men grab her as she tries to scream, but one places their hand over her mouth.
She feels the ***** of a needle in her neck.
Her last thought was, 'Mel..Help...Me.'
****
Melodric checked his watch, "it's 7:00, where is she?"
He had been waiting at the school courtyard for half an hour now for her.
"It's not like her to be late...maybe her alarm never went off?"
A fellow student noticed him sitting on the school steps and says, "Hey Melodric, class is about to start, why aren't you heading in?"
Melodric replies, " I'm waiting for Arya, she hasn't showed up yet...though that's the odd thing, she's never late, ya know anything about that?"
"you mean no one has told you yet?"
"told me what?"
"Arya was found dead laying in a pool of her own blood at 1:00 this morning."
"A...Arya's dead?"
"yeah...you never knew?"
"n-no...i...we where supposed to watch a movie today. The Newest release. he told me yesterday that Tomorrow was when she'd go with me...and i said...i said that i'd hold her to that."
"Melodric-"
"She always used to say, 'There's always Tomorrow'...but now...there wont BE a tomorrow..not for her...not anymore..."
"Melodric, hey...i'm...I'm sorry man. Sorry you found out like this, and about Arya, i knew you where close with her."
" 'There's always Tomorrow' I can go mourn tomorrow..right?"
"yeah, tomorrow."
***
"There's always Tomorrow Melodric!", Arya laughingly said in Melodrics mind
'But sometimes...There's not always a Tomorrow', Melodric replied, 'There'll never be a Tomorrow...Not anymore'
***
"Dude did you hear the news last night? that kid, uh, melo...dic? no Melodric! He apparently shot himself after leaving a note saying, 'I don't want to spend another Tomorrow without Arya.' how Pathetic is that?"
"C'mon man, chill out. Those two where always hanging around one another, doesn't surprise me he wanted ta be with her. who wouldn't?"
"ya, you're right, hey wanna go see that new movie that came out?"
"Maybe Tomorrow. I'm kinda tired."
"Ok, Tomorrow then. Don't forget!"
Nov 10, 2015
Nov 10, 2015 at 11:54 PM UTC
Yaha Maa beti behan patni parivaar ki Shaan h...
Ha ye Mera ni hamara hindustan h..
Yaha Har muskilo ka Hal nhii...
Par Har javaab Geeta, Bibal, aur kuraan h...
Yaha beta aur beti dono parivaar ki Shaan h..
Ha ye Mera nhii hamara hindustan h..
Jahan Har muskilo mein apno ka saath h..
Bacho k sir par Maa baap ka haath h..
Yaha beta Maa ki aur beti Papa ki jaan h..
Ha ye Mera nii hamara hindustan h..
Jahan alag alag bhashao ka Mel h hockey yaha ka priy khel h
.
Jhagde bahot h par usse jyada pyaar h...
Daat padne se jo bachae vo yaaro ka yaar h....
Yahan alag alag desho ki mithas aur sanskaar h...
Yahan alag alag desho ka rang punjab kashmir aur rajasthan h...
Ha hme garv h is desh par qki ye Mera nhii hamara hindustan h....
Mar 20, 2018
Mar 20, 2018 at 1:39 AM UTC
candy is sweet, most of it anyway.
some salted like cara
mel,
some spicy like
cin
na
mon,
my favorite is bit
ter
chocolate.
what does that say about me?
Oct 1, 2020
Oct 1, 2020 at 8:44 AM UTC
I think what makes me the most sad is the world doesn't care how good of a person you are.
You can shake hands with all the people who are homeless named Mic, who fondly remember Mel Brooks movies, and you'll still find yourself left behind just like them.
Complimenting women's nails for their sense of style or telling the cashier at the dvd store that his up-sell is really good and it nearly got you with their sense of flow.
You never take their offer of coupons as what's the point on collecting relics of a time we've all already left.
Strong, sturdy, and silent is what the past is made out of, as there is nothing left to break the illusion of today.
Sturdy for no one has found a way to bring all their passion home.
Time can only stand still, and all we can do is move on.
A kindness forgotten: soft words and thoughtful intentions are what make me the most sad.
Jun 27, 2022
Jun 27, 2022 at 5:21 AM UTC
I'll paint you a picture,
of a fine yes-ter-day,
I'll play you a mel-o-dy,
to brighten the way,
I will sing you a sweet tune,
though I know you can't stay,
But the hour is early to-night.
I will draw you right here,
an as you take my arm love,
I will walk you to safety,
an I'll keep you from harm love
I will lay it on thickly,
lay on my sweet charm love,
Then maybe you'll be al-right.
I'll give you a long kiss,
so soft and so sweet dear,
while stroking your dark hair,
an resting your feet here,
I'll love you tonight babe,
an I won't miss a beat dear,
An I'll never put up a fight.
I'll lay you down gent-ly,
to sing in your ear now,
an I will embrace you,
to wash away fear now,
I love you my darlin'
come here right here now,
An I'm doomed to always write.
Find me a picture,
an sing me a-long too,
sing me a tune,
just sing me a song too
love me tonight here,
you know it ain't wrong too,
An I hope you come by tonight.
an give into the seductive light.
you are the only one,
who makes it shine bright,
Like how the water feels
without her,
waves
when the moon gone
an seems always away,
please come now an save us
and stay,
My life is just not the same,
when you are not here
my life's not the same
without you my dear.
Ma Cherie © 2016
Jan 21, 2017
Jan 21, 2017 at 7:03 PM UTC
Please Mel, sing your melody.
Don't die on me.
You are my Great Dark Hope.
Stars shine darkly above you.
Your smile removes all doubt and fright
Oh Mel, might you come out and sing tonight?
I have denounced my father for you.
Blasphemy is just for me because
just an ounce of your tainted love
is all I need.
So sing Mel, sing to your darkling.
Bring me to where the water meets.
The dark moving water of the night's river surround us.
I think it unwise
until I look into your dark eyes
and it tells me otherwise.
So sing to me Mel,
sing your dark melody with purpose.
Bring me down beneath the surface.
Bring me down and drown me.
Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 7:16 PM UTC