With dreams comes nightmares , and thoughts come dreams , life is a dream is it not ?  one day you won't wake up , are we even awake ? Is life just one big dream with the ocassional nightmare ? I mean you do make life the way you want it ..... Eventually .... But for now you just keep dreaming thinking everything is fine , untill .... One night you wake up to an old dream , an old memory , a sad memory you thought mabey was gone , s good sleep woken up by a great memory to be shattered into sadness when your eyes meet the day light , is the dream the best part of life , to see what you want what you used to have , love , touch , smell ,or is it the now the new views , people lifestyle , what is better people ask , the response its different , undiscribeable , just different , nothigng is that similar if anything at all new towns , new states , west and east , sunrise to sunset , the thoughts end the dreams , the goals and the memories , the past and the future are what make who you are from yesterday to  today, the past is missed but the now is today so what will my next day bring , who knows but I'm excited for everyday !

Have you wished someone dead?
Self doesn't count.
Terminally ill don't count,
In fact, that may be construed as kind.
No. Someone vibrant, strong,
Sure and vain, like:
The relentless bully,
The cop at your door,
The ridiculing teacher
Who made you the fool.
The betrayer and rumour monger,
Your prosecutors, some persecutors,
An ocassional critic.
The machine voice,
The government,
The ****** and child molester,
The boko haram (all terrorists)
Even some family members,
But never your children.
Some on your own list.
Close your eyes and pick one
With a pin.
You can't wait for the uncertainty
Of Karma or God,
Or them to go to the devil.
You can't depend on toilets falling from planes,
Tornados dropping houses.
It's not illegal: half of us do it.
Billions believe it possible.
I envision driving the final nail myself.
At certain times, it's true,
I regret the absence of hell
With its gnashing, its unquenchable fires,
That burn without consuming:
The smelly, curling, shrinking flesh,
The bubbling of fat through skin,
Because sudden death
Just doesn't cut it.

The film just ended
and I am faithfully here,
waiting.

Independently of my dependence on you
and that now
I am not concerned about my concerns,
I wait, for your message

because I have sacrificed quite a bit
for such an uncertain reward as your love might be
—I almost wrote lofe—,
and waiting for a reply is a bit quieter.

I'm sure you must be busy,
I am busy too,
thinking 'bout you,
waiting
like I have been for months I guess,
till you realised that
I am not the only one in need of the other.

During this wandering,
'Have you answered?'
that's my ocassional wondering,
but I check, and you haven't.
Doesn't matter. I just wanted to write
while I wait. Somewhat patiently.
(Laughs)

However, it is close to 01:30, thus,
as said my role, Demetrius,
in our adaptation or version:
"I'm tired. I think I'll get some rest."

Today
The tears have managed to slip out
Bringing about the red eyes,
choked out cries
of what life is really like
Inside these four walls

At every corner
i cave
Knowing if i stand up
i will get slammed down
down to where i curl up
dead, still wishing for a better life
inside these four walls

I live in fear for tomorrow
Afraid i might finally have the courage
to press down deep enough
to expose the anger that runs through my veins
everyday
inside these four walls

Mother and father is what they call themselves
nuturing us with love and care
protecting us from the evil that is out there
but is there a difference from the evil out there
and the evil that is stained
on these four walls

Forced to play by their rules
We follow them blindly
even with the ocassional abuse
"you're not white" excuse
marks of bruises
that show our traditional ways of life
inside these four walls.

Crying is not allowed
no sugarcoating when we're down
we live only for your purpose
of control and possession
choices made under your disgretion
indide these four walls
it's all i've ever known
there's no place like home.

Where once lay a palatial house
Today there lies the ruins of a desolated structure
A carnival of rust and dirt
Torn and tattered
A structure which was once filled with life
Is now worse than a corpse
Cobwebs and ghosts are it's inhabitants
A place where once children used to play
And every festival was celebrated with immense joy
Where on new year's eve the entire house used to be dressed up in lights
Where once the sun used to shine bright
Today at that place even the moon doesn't come out at night
The stars have long left that place
And faded away into oblivion
It's always dark there...never will you see any trace of light
A weird smell and an eerie silence that is what defines the house now
The ocassional passerby still sometimes looks at the house and wonders--how???
How could a structure so grand be reduced to this?
Just goes to show that no matter how grand,beautiful and powerful you might be
With the advent of time everything depreciates
Time catches up with everyone and everything
And once you enter the winter of your life
Slowly but surely
The blackhole of death pulls you towards it

Lifes a chuckle and the jokes on you
Life can be trouble with the ocassional Cordeon bleu,
The ins and outs of who I'm I, and how do I relate to you?
A colidoscope of perceptions altered by cruel vices, how do I make amends with fresh blood on my hands. How do I love when I don't even hate?
slues of pornagraphy alter my thoughts. Existence can be ****** when you've seen so many ***** *****. Funny haha or funny dismiss? Laughing until the tension burns out and my mind sets off on a new route.
Does being strong make me a man? Doing situps until I'm responsible, what a joke as am I.
I'm really not quite sure whats happens when you die, but one things for **** sure you should try to enjoy the ride.

Once I soared with eagles
     my guardian angel by my side.
Walking tall with confidence
     caused my foes to run and hide.

I chose my battles carefully;
     I picked the place and time.
If any son dared cross me
     I knew his *** was mine.

I remember ocassional setbacks;
     times when the going got rough,
     but the things that should
     only helped to make me tough.

I guess I thought there was a God.
I prayed once in a while,
     but I knew I didn't need his help
     to go an extra mile.

I rebelled against authority;
     took all the freedom I could get.
I could not allow myself to lose a fight;
     my *** ain't been kicked yet.

Needing victory in every duel
     became my prison cell.
As I leaned hard against the wind
     my soul set sail for Hell.

I didn't know it left me;
     I didn't see it stray
Fighting one last battle,
     it would just get in my way.

This battle was the hardest;
     it took five years to win.
Revenge and anger were my weopens;
     I wore them like a grin.

When the fight was nearly over
     and victory was near,
I prayed to God," return my soul"
     but He didn't seem to hear.

I'd look for without Him;
     this heart that I had lost.
I'd win it back all by myself
     no matter what the cost.

Now standing on the pinnicle,
     I fearfully looked around.
My soul would not have come up here;
     it's too far from hallowed ground.

Starting back down along the path;
     frought with struggle and with strife,
     I found I was decending through the
     wreckage of my life.

While pawing through the ashes
     of the bridges I had burned,
     I found the charred remains
     of all the lessons I had learned.

Confused and battle weary;
     I could not tell wrong from right,
     but I prayed that at the freefalls end
     there might be truth and light.

Now I'm lying in the smoke and fire
     at the crash site of my soul
     peering out through Godless eyes
     as a snake peers from his hole.

I should have had some warning;
     a shot across my bow
     but my spirit spiraled down and down
     and look where I am now.

Like a marble in a funnel,
     my soul spun 'round and down.
With a lack of positive energy
     it finnaly hit the ground.

Now I'm at the bottom
     With no way to go but up.
God, please give me the strength to feed
     my soul;
     your sacred wine to fill my cup.


This was the first poem I was ever able to
right. At age 56 it came to me in a dream and I got up and wrote it down.

A loving dog is an unmatched prize
unconditional devotion and unrivaled joy
highest pleasure in the smallest of treats
persistence with (ocassional) fearlessness

unmatched energy for short car rides
turning inside out in excess excitement
highest stretch for meat thought beyond reach
rarely without a glorious itch

A loving dog is an unmatched prize
and our loss unmatched at this, our last goodbye.

such is this dreary rainy week
cool numbness, yet not freezing
brisk winds flap the droplets
from young spring leaves
sun blinking from passing clouds

under this canopy I stand watch
waiting for a glimpse of you
sun's ocassional shadow of trees
plays on my mind, your voice
resonates, whispered trickery

so incomplete to mother earth
it seems, your footprints cease
who will tend to the ****** plants
caress with caring hands, nurture
will they bear their friut, alone

such are my thoughts on this
dreary rainy week, droplets
fall from my eyes, misty view
under this canopy,I stand watch
waiting for a glimpse of you

you speak in in terms of ocassional bias
pull me into your selfish emotions
then shun my heartfelt responses
were am I to go
this back and forth conversations
should even out at the middle line
yet that line bows in your favor
and poke at my eyes
were am I to go
take my heart upon your stake
and swallow it at your convenience
then toss it on the third rail
then I will know were I am to go

Life is like sand...the more you try to grasp it and hold it tightly in your fists,the more it keeps slipping through your fingers.Stop trying to plan,analyse and control each and every aspect of your life.At times it's best to just go with the flow.Let life be your guide for a while.Let it take it's own course...see it where it takes you and when you feel like you need to act and take matters into your own hand..do that...but unless and until that point arrives just experience and enjoy the ride of life.It will never be a smooth ride...there will be the ocassional bumps...but it's exciting and fun too.

The mind wanders when one can't sleep.
Night sounds crescendo to shooting stars.
Dreamscapes under sheets are put on hold.
Lights twinkle from ocassional bridge traffic.
All because of a late cup of coffee and some girl time.

While the world is asleep,
in the starry, moonlit nights,
after tense and tiresome evenings
caught in ocassional sleep
ocassional celestial dreams,
pay visits to me.
In my imaginary wings
fly me to the
shore of River Ganges,
enjoy me the beauty of
the Ganges and the landscape around
the great blue Himalayan mountains
witnessing
the celestial ambience
showers boundless blessings
upon me
to my supreme ecstasy.
Upon noticing vast expanse
of starry, moonlit azure skies
mirroring deep down,
in crystal-clear water,
Bending down,
take me in my cupped-palms
the golden moon, stars
upon bringing cupped-palms
close to my eyes
sense me the
loving touch and kisses
of the stars and moon
in abundance.
The smooth flowing
sparkling Ganges
sends me to
the level of supreme salvation
albeit for a few seconds.
Look me heaven-wards
and
in my imaginary wings
fly back
get drowned in deep sleep
a cheerful, contended,
serene, sound sleep.
Ocassional blessings
though.

I adore her.

I don't know why I look at her the way that I do.
I've memorized her features.
I'm just drawn to stare at her, in wonder.

I look at her the way I look at the moon on a clear night in the countryside: in awe.

I wonder what it would be like to be inside her head. The thoughts that pass. The thoughts that she clings to. They must be so beautiful. So intruiging. And most importantly: different.

I struggle to put a name to what sets her apart from everyone else. Why do I feel like this about her and not those who actually notice my existence. I haven't found my answer yet.

I'm in awe at her beauty, stunned by the way she holds herself.
Not too confident, but definitely not shy.
Always unique and subtly charming.
And that **** smile. It kills me everytime.

She's a mix between Cole Sprouse and some femme fatale-character that I made up in my head.

I crave conversation. I long for days of talking about anything, discussing everything and nothing. I want comfortable silence. I want silence with similtanious conversation through looks and body language. I want to stare into those eyes without being afraid.

But I don't think that I will ever take the risk of telling her how I feel. Maybe one day, but not when I have everything to lose...even if everything is just the ocassional smile or laugh that I might get from joking around with her.

The only reason we're ever around each other in the first place is because we share first and fourth period. It's actually really sad, we're acquaintances...maybe friends. Nothing more.