"moke" poems
Zindagi me kai ese moke aaenge jab tum apne apko 1 ajib kashmo kash me paoge,
Kai viparit paristhityo ka dar tumhe sataega,
Kya galat hai kya sahi tumhe kuch smjh nahi aaega,
Ye kuch uljhne hai jo har kisi ki Zindagi me alg alg samay pr aati hai
Jo ki us waqt pr bhut soch smjhkr kuch faislo se suljhai jati hai
Par kya wo faisle lena itna aasan hota hai?
Kyu ki wo 1 faisla shyd puri zindagi ko bdl skta hai
Har faisle me Kuch panne ki tammana, to kuch khone ka dar to hoga
Par un sab raaho me se kisi 1 ko tumhe chunna hoga,
Us raah ko chunne ke liye tum Hazaro logo se ray mashwara karte **
Kai baar apne dil ki chod, gairo ki baat par bh yakin karte **
Par smjho is baat ko, ki Hazaro se sunkr bhi tumhara dil kis chiz ko chahta hai
Dhundho, Kya hai wo esa jisko tumhara man puri mehnat, lagan aur jazbato k sath karna chahta hai.
Kyu ki Sahi to sab kuch hai is duniya me
Par tumhare liye kya sahi hai ye tumhi jaan skte **
Apne andar ki kabiliyat ko pehchankar, Mehnat kar
apne sapno ko haqueeqat bana skte ** !!
Dec 27, 2017
Dec 27, 2017 at 6:48 AM UTC
Never he was an honest man
Who prides himself
On wanton expeditions
In a field of truth
He lies, entangled in conceit
To win that which he desires –
It is only but a game.
Mind not his mental means, nor manner –
Be he sane or psychopath –
But the strategy by which he plays:
Cheat, deceive, manipulate,
Overcome, and conquer your carnal estate.
Twisted tales, spun with golden thread
Crafted by careful practice and confidence
The master of charisma in his own head
Is no Eros, in any sense – Erosive, yes –
He is only what you want but for a brief moment
Be suspicious and expect this ever-real Narcissus.
A lecher he is
A Greek God in wish –
Nay, he only lives in the fantastic,
Though he roams about us
In a surreal bubble,
Where love comes to pass,
He is ever-so subtle
He markets himself as a Rembrandt,
Although more a moke* than baroque,
Something which he could never see
Staring into his reflection so blindly.
At a cost, worth more than his fee,
This cheap knockoff of Sal Dali,
Would sell you his love
For a buck forty-three.
Beware the lecher.
Dec 6, 2016
Dec 6, 2016 at 3:01 AM UTC
The turkey-oh-gee, on
Isn’t the same
As turg-ee-ohg-heeee.
I chickened a buffalo.
Do moke smock in
The biff part this marks
The spot I’m not skipsing
This was longer ago.
Aug 22, 2011
Aug 22, 2011 at 11:28 PM UTC
I awoke being happy being happy
i am happy to be calling you a woos
i awoke being happy, being very happy
happy happy happy oi oi oi
fly burgers are good enough to eat
and simon said he will give you a special treat
man, i feel very very beat
fly burgers are such a tasty treat
rockabilly rockabillty rockabilly rock
a man comes up to tell ya to get ******
you say neh, i don’t wanna, no don’t
i just hop in my little mini moke
i rock up and rock down
i party hardy all over the town
my dad told me, to be careful;, but he
doesn’t understand i am careful in a devious kind of way
15 miles to the get to the end
without mates voices driving you round the bend
please mate yeah mate yeah, leave me alone
cause i am the king sitting upon my thrown
i wear a gold gown and gold shoes on my feet
and this robe i have on is kind of ****** neat
please buddha, save me from this crap
because i am in a city, where the people seem nice and the ideas are alright
but when it comes to cool, i am the one to go to
party party party, yeah, i will ****** ****** party
i party for my mommy and i party for my daddy
i am not a hooligan though it’s hard to tell
i am not the type to kiss and tell
i am ugly, yeah that is me
it’s better than being a little pretty boy, yeah buddy
i am not a little pretty boy, i am a ugly toad
that will one day get what i want, yeah deviously what i want
people call me woosey, i can’t understand
why they can’t except, that i am a reformed man
i said to my voices out on the street
LEAVE ME ALONE YA **** YOU RICH *****
maybe i don’t know how to fight, i don’t wish i did
cause violence doesn’t solve anything
yelling at the heavens solves things but it cause some hatred
because of the voices being jealous of your art and power
money money money will make me happy so i can go on holidays
money money money, will bring me joy yeah, to brian allan’s world
i want my voices to upgrade in me being nice
i am radically awesome dude
Jun 14, 2015
Jun 14, 2015 at 12:29 AM UTC
Steam rises from the coffee mug
Sunshine peaks over the mountains
Smoke begins to fill up my lungs
I exhale what will never last.
Bearing marks of heartache he comes
Branded by the thought of concern
Barb-wire scuffed belts meet our hips
I release all that's left of hope.
Fields of yellow surround the road
Flowers that once bloomed in the rain
Faith so young in red lips so warm
I leave your still blue eyes waiting.
Combing fingers through your course hair
Caressing toes in sheets heavy
Cold noses on one another
I don't want to fall in love again.
-z0
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 11:56 PM UTC
That hideous
brownish
smoke.
Oh it makes me
choke to think
of it sinking
into your lungs
May 10, 2013
May 10, 2013 at 1:53 AM UTC
GOLDEN DAYS GONE BY
JONALYN CAJEFE
It was good to hear you laugh again
When i called you on the phone
For it took me back to days gone by
When the bushland was our home.
The bush became our homestead
It mothered us as well
And we would laugh each day away
Till the years began to tell.
Remember the station truck we bogged
In the middle of the night?
When you stepped in a muddy hole
And sank right out of sight.
The time that my bike's trew me
And i landed on my head?
You stood around without a sound
Quite sure that i was dead.
But i slowly raised a dusty eyelid
And gave you a silly grin
Then you cracked a joke and caught the moke
And legged me on again.
The time when a young bull chased me
And i stumbled and fell
Then it kicked me and it horned me
And stomped on me as well.
Or the day when we took that bucker
To the soft sand in the creek
Then ******** the two of us climbed on
We laugh for a ****** week.
Remember when we met those Sheila's
In a pub whilst on a spree?
We said we owned a station
In the Northern territory.
That i was a young lord so and so
And you some Arab princess
But i dont think they believed us
For we haven't seen em since.
Or when we loaded our bike's up our pack
Getting ready for a trip
And a great red hornet came along
And stung her on the hip.!
Our swags and bags all went flying
Straight up towards the sky
And ive never seen a bucker since
That could buck so ****** high.
Yes they were good old days alright!
Those golden days gone by
When we were mates together
Yeahh ****** good mates
You and I...
~J. C~
Nov 8, 2018
Nov 8, 2018 at 3:16 PM UTC