Kar himmat or aage badh,
Bina dare, bina thake bas chal de tu,
Mushkile hai raah me, to aane de,
Kuch kar gujrne ki chah ko jagne de.

Tujhme hai wo kabiliyat,
Tujhme hai wo junoon,
Tu jo chahta h wo kar ke to dekh,
Milega tuje 1 alag hi sukun.

log kya kahenge ye sochna chod de,
Abhi bhi moka hai, apni kismat ko badal le,

Are Heera hai tu, bas khud ko tarashne ki jaruart hai,
Apne andar chupi kabiliyat ko pehchanne ki jarurat hai,

Par sirf, Apni kabiliyat ya apne hunar ko pehchan lena hi kafi nahi hoga,
Ye hoonar 1 podha hai, jise tuje apni mehnat ke pasine se Sichna hoga,

fir dekh, 1 din tera ye hoonar hi teri pehchan ban jaega.
Aur wo din door nahi, jab hazaro logo ke liye tu ek misaal ban jaega !!! :)


Written By:
Shivam Porwal

Ye bola sa dil tho hai mera
de di ya ek chota se batche ke leya
ABE dil meh ek moka tere leya reya
Abe viswash tere haath mei ma rega ya

Viswash thor na nahi mera

Would you like some Chicken Soup?
Only when I'm diggin' for a loop
Hole in the court system to pay the debt
Why ask y if its a letter in the alpha-bet
Let MF Doom & Moka Only save the day
Come on y'all, lets eat some more soup today

Entre le sac et le ressac
Ma muse nage nue
Au cœur des vagues
De neige immortelle
De la nuit tropicale.
C'est un mélange de sirène
Et de sauterelle
A la queue papillonnante bleue verte et grise
Qui plonge à intervalles réguliers
Dans le sauna des abysses
A la recherche des sources chaudes
Des volcans sous-marins
Où dorment les champignons sauvages
Et où paissent les rennes
En attendant le moka saveur airelles
D'un Petit Prince abscons portant masque, palmes et tuba
Qui danse la rumba cubaine.
Quand ma très chère se déhanche
Elle skie elle patine elle surfe
Elle nage elle plonge elle sue
Entre les battements de conga,
Les glissés et les déliés de son partenaire
Tout en tricotant des pas humides de calypso vierge
Ad libitum.

I want to get this.
My girlfriend's coffee *** broke.
She needs a new one.

From a slow canter
to a gurgling gallop
          ending
in a steam stampede.

Work night rumbles in the Dublin 4 palace
Laughing in the stale smell of too much freedom
Whiskey, beer, prosecco make up
A rainbow of mischievous golden hues
Corona that smells like drifting **** clouds
No limes, browning in the red net
In the fridge between pockets of pizza space
No Topshop dresses, flannel shirts, uniforms
But greasy repeal jumpers, palazzo pants, huffing
Rollies on the porch under generous back light
Beside rabbit ornament with human head, crouched
In grass below the shroud of full moon fever.
An ex-rugby lad in a Chance the Rapper cap
Stands in the sunroom eating Chinese
He ordered when he was bored of girls
Changing the song one too many times
Masking the gurgling moka, hidden
To serve coffee at midnight and write bad verse
Before morning dips potato waffles into relish
"Which is just posh ketchup", breakfast
Before leaving dry chunks in the bath for work.

learn how he likes his coffee;
moka espresso black with a single sugar,
a cappuccino or a flat white if he’s out
(he knows the only espresso better than his is his nonno’s)
learn how to make it, the brand of espresso he uses, how much he puts in, the flick of his wrist when he puts the sugar in.
The first sip, the gentle smile that he shares with the world.
contento.

learn his family. his mother is overprotective and his father likes to put his foot in his mouth. it’s a trait in him you learn to love, and love the fact he passed it to his son.
learn that he has a troubled past, the love child of two divorces, he feels like the symbol of heartbreak. assure him that he is so much more than what happened before he was born.

learn his brothers. learn the heartache that comes with breakups when drugs and two little angels get involved. love those two girls with all your heart. they need a nurturing force in their life and it breaks my heart but I can’t be that anymore.
the older one wants to be taught. information and knowledge excites her, teach her about the sky and the moon. spend the time teaching her. she may annoy you temporarily but her hugs are like gold.
the younger one loves games, and stealing half of your breakfast even when she swore she wasn’t hungry. get her to trust you and shell sprint to you every time she sees you. I’d give anything to see her again.

learn Sunday lunches. you’ll never get him to miss one, but take this as a sign of devotion to his family, and for what he loves most. go with him to them, but ALWAYS say hello to nonna or so help you god. remember that pasta is an entree in this culture. his uncle will make a crude joke, his cousins will be the most lovely girls you’ll ever meet. his aunt will sometimes be racist but don’t worry, he will set her straight.

learn his culture. pasta is a given, but so is the word ’no’. he will spend a lot of time cooped up in his room, encourage him to spend more time outside. he secretly loves the sunshine, as long as he has enough deodorant on. attempt the language. language is a big passion of his. Italian is beautiful, treat it with respect

he will love walks if they’re with you. find a pretty view and he will insist you’re prettier. his frequent compliments, he means every one of them. don’t let them lose meaning. all are genuine. say thank you.

twirl around the kitchen when you make late night tea and never ever forget to drink it.

let him game for as long as he wants. he will crawl into bed with you when he’s done and he’ll appreciate the time for himself. don’t forget that he loves you.

lay on his bare chest. he loves skin to skin. aircon on, he loves being cold then curling up under covers.

spoon him from time to time. protect him. hold him tight. hands through his hair.

he loves back scratches when he hugs you. he’ll ask for it if you forget, but ******* don’t. you remembering will put him at ease

find ways for him to express his anger. he doesn’t know how to so it sits in his chest and broods. *** helps. throwing things at the wall helps.

he will have meltdowns. he puts so much on his plate at once, and he can handle it, but he needs his downtime. encourage him to stop studying, to read or game or workout, something that isn’t for anybody else but him. hug him, tell him everything will still workout if he takes half an hour to cool off.

he loves finding new music. let him play it in the car when you drive.

keep hand sanitiser in your purse. he hates sticky hands.

he loves waffles. do with that what you will.  

surprise him with tea that you find interesting. he’ll love the thought.

intricate gifts mean a lot to him, but it's not hard to remind him of your love. leave notes in his room, long, short, post it notes. write him poetry. call him with good news. call him with bad news. call him in the bath. call him to tell him you love him.

cherish him.

never let a day go by without telling him you love him.

dont let him go like I did. don’t let your selfish desires **** his soul. love him with all your heart. never take him for granted. never take his quietness for anger. never let him go to sleep feeling unloved. stay up with him when hes upset. dress up for him. surprise him with visits but call when youre close by, just incase. never let him out of your grasp. never ever hurt him. he cant dance but tell him to be free with you. sing in the car with him. compliment his singing, its ******* impressive. if he writes you a song memories the words and sing it in the car when youre sad. I still do.

love him with everything you have.

he deserves the world.

give it to him.

Decapitated Coffee.

       Froth Less

100% Pure Arabica
Sword Top Skimmed

          M.B.S.

  Moka Bin Sabre.

It is a decapitated Cappuccino
which is 100% Arabica known
as an M.B.S. Moka Bin Sabre.

Pass on the term
" Moka Bin Sabre "

Coined for Muhammad Bin Salman.

Let us not forget Jamal Khashoggi.

If one had the bends

or Nitrogen Narcosis

Jacques Cousteau's

  chamber cured it.


If it was pertaining

  to Moka coffee or

pression in French

Bialetti found a fix.


  But nobody, even

   Thomas Edison

   has managed to

  lighten darkness.

Imagine a day without words,
Wireless, no radio, nothing to
chase the demons squatting in
the mind.

It is why I need to write first
thing every morning before
grinding fresh coffee beans
for my Bialetti Moka™.

Not long after the brew has
been mainlined into my veins,
I'm Wired and ready for some
serious brain storming.

There is more to coffee
than taste and aroma-

Have you ever heard,
the steam stampede?

Perhaps not, Nespresso,
ne pas deranger,

The silent, odourless,  
senseless experience.

Moka! the active volcano
of hot spring geysers,

An eruption of black lava
from a slow canter to a

Gurgling gallop ending
in the steam stampede.

Beans have a gender, in
Texas there was a judge,
he was called, Roy Bean,
his half brother was Les,
nobody ever titled him Mr.

ps.

This is a unisex Robusta,
- Arabica, medium roast
100% organic Moka poem,
inspired by Bialetti Logo !

Another Cold Coffee


      Can you imagine what it

      feels like to wake up after

     a long uninterrupted sleep,

yet, it seems as though you had

         not been to bed at all.


     Thus the beginning of my

                 every day.


       Then I take breakfast,

      which is punctuated with

  with periods of pause, when I

   find myself on a frozen oasis

staring through a mental mirage.


   I don't see or hear anything.


This is where the well within me

rises up like a Bialetti Moka® ***  

  past the pressure relief valve

to eye level, diffusing an already

   blurred vision, even further.


Meanwhile, the aroma dissipates.


        Another Cold Coffee.