Take a step forward, but never back.
Remember the future, but forget the past.
Hold her close, but never let go for you may fall.
Take a stand, but do not die in battle.
Walk the path you choose in life, but do not get lost in the darkness.
Hide your pain, but let them see the real you.
Learn to forgive, but always remember the truth.
Jump for joy, but don't hit your head on the rain clouds.
Walk along the ocean, but don't let the cold water nip your toes.
Sing along with the one you love, but don't sing to loud so you can still hear her beautiful voice.
Always look on the bright side, but it may hurt your eyes.
Put the song on repeat, but don't turn up the volume.
Take a bite of chocolate, but don't let in it's sweetness.
Sit in a room full of others, but don't see anybody.
Release the stress from you body, but don't forget the anxiety.
Stand in the pouring rain, but don't let the ground crumble under you.
Plant a tree, but never watch the pass of it's hourglass.
Sit in front of a computer screen, but never really write a word.
Hold you tongue when you want to speak, but scream in the silence.
Dip the paintbrush in the colours, but never let the picture out of your mind.
Go out with your friends, but don't let the knowledge of their hate soke in.
Wake up on a sunny day, but paint the windows black with tears.
Write the letter, but never send it.
Begin the sentence, but never end it.
Keep the secrets inside the little box, but never give it to the world.
Push the blankets back in the morning, but see nothing in the mirror.
Spin the silk on the wheel, but never make anything of the lies.
Hold your breath forever, but don't turn blue for your already dead.
Give a quick smile, but never let it reach your eyes.
Take a leap of faith, but realize to late that the safety net in gone.
Plug in the nightlight to chase away the dark, but only then do you understand that the darkness is inside.
Pick up the pencil, but don't draw on the stained paper.
Grab a snack as you walk out the door, but fall and leave it in the puddle.
Buy a book from the store, but don't open the cover for fear of what lays wait inside.
Enjoy the show, but let the stage fade to black.

They say if you breath slower time it's self slows down
convincing myself if I had more time I won't just ponder around
Problems may soke down on as like intoxicated air
And yet the solutions are harder to find then they appear
They make it seem easy to find like plucking ripe apple off a tree
But now a days that's harder to find than a big Mac and a large sweet tea
I just want to do the right thing even if it's harder to choose
I don't want to look back and pounder on the misfortunes that I didn't set aloof
As I spent my time to terrible use looking back at the mistake I happened to choose
I only get to think about the future instead of living it now,  convincing myself I have more time some how
I contadict myself and I seem to do it a lot and about this time I can slowly see my brain start to rot

As I walk down the memory lane,
In search of the voices in my head.
All I perceive is an endless pain,
The verses you have bled.

The verses of a broken dove,
The verses of true love,
The verses of some shrine,
The verses of decline.

The desolation of your bliss,
The laughter that you miss.
The grief in your eyes,
The promises and the lies.

Of all the gracious deeds,
Is it here a tender heart leads ?
If this is what you deserved,
No justice will ever be served.

No drops will ever descend.
No hearts will ever mend.
No bird could ever trill,
Not even at her will.

You deserve to be loved,
You're meant to be adored.
The most exquisite of all,
A noblemen's brawl.

At times I crave,
Amidst my mind's conclave.
To hold you in my arms,
Keep you from the harms.

Far away we shall afloat,
Far from the letters they wrote.
Bereft of these endless nights,
Far from this certain blight.

Yet we cannot flow much further,
For I see the tides have changed.
A lady as broken as you were,
Grew stronger when estranged.

I witnessed what it took you,
To be yourself devoid of his gloss.
To forsake the ashes of a foul love,
To adore yourself you now emboss.

How shall I escape this plight,
How shall I soke you in my rain ?
Do I have a right,
To leave you vulnerable again ?

Shall I be joyous,
For you found your long lost shine.
Or shall I be in despair,
For you'll never be mine.

If only I'd have met you before,
If nothing more than this I could've swore,
You would've loved me too,
If only I could love you.

.one of those low... low oh my god how low... hanging fruits... i.e. check... check... *****! akimbo in a "critical" pose of... Skiba's take on the current polish-"lithuanian" government via: pchła szachrajka... everything is just all oh too all too ****** obvious! without that blonde quiff... without graffiti sport of the politicians... the words are as cheap as the most ******* *****-*****... when all one desires... is an unveiling from the territory of: the virgins under the niqab curtain of the house of Saud! yes yes shouts the ****** without the requisite body parts... one side lost to the dolls... the other to the guillotined ******! sport a longer beard than Muhammad... and a mullet longer than the... well... longer than the hassidy-yoddle of a curly-furly payot... or less.. strapped-on than those anglican... victorian sideburns... moi? moi? je suis... encore de... l'efforts... "kazik" de kulte... nous respiré... nous toussé... nous étouffé... nous seulement oublié que à rire... i think that debate was sort-of-settled when i found that... the french... share my etymological-root of mother grammar? the french also forgot, "forgot" to trill their R... instead... hark it they did... and... well... que à rire... i was "sort of" expecting a(n) - the N needs to see this...  forgo no god: to see the french "rear"... riré! god forbid the exclamation mark was the denoting: just enough padre... that western slavic shares the same grammatical structure as fwench... and what english is german and is also backwards... that the english hid their R-trill in the science of numbing... comfort... anesthetic and the tarantula kiss... well... fueds of neighbours... at least one of the ten commandments should suffice them... me? well... a ménage à trois includes me and at least two ******?! no? then i will not be labouring myself over the women publiushing print in the Style magazine of a Sunday edition of a newspaper... with some mr. candy not being on social media... ergo the internet is HER playground... otherwise my amazon.com and the disappearing highstreet... and internet banking... and none of the sort of things teenage boys were getting to test with come the late 1990s... now that social media... run a peacock's full Monet and symphony before her eyes... she... "she" has the reins?! how does a horse turn left? is it... left at the reins tugged with the jaw... and the right heel pressing into the torso? i should have learned some french... i've been to Paris twice... lucky for me... there's not a third's luck of chance to replicate the summers of: 2004... and... whatever the year was... the hostel? oh sure... it might have been: the fleeing three ducks... the three drunken ducks... yep... or just... the 3 ducks hostel... we drank ourselves silly and started running toward the Eiffel tower... because... that was November... and it was Paris... and don't let them tell you any ******* about Paris... Paris come the last efforts of autumn... when it doesn't rain... that's Paris for me... or at least: that's what Paris was... i would be beyond being tired: the youth is gone... there's a beard instead of long hair... and there are those puffy cheeks from drinking rather than from gluttony... n'ah... more likely i'll be the one sending a postcard from Sobibor... or some... god-forsaken place... if not... dreaming of Istambul... and soke rat-infested ****-house of a scribbling me: the noon with tide... to sketch a shadow of my own... very purposively built... architecture of demise... i'll leave as i lace this life with: destitute... well... god forbid i should be leaving this world with a Solomon's harem... or Muhammad's ambition harem... or... a panic in babylon... or... i should hope... to be leaving this world... attired... with... that sober note... Belshazzar was left with... i'd want to left with fear... exactly: a fear that i should be made as an offering upon the altar of sacrifice of reincarnation for the hindu deities! here's my: "my" tetragrammaton.

also called: rifles without bullets...
or... how the red army battled
against **** germany...

one poor **** was sent running
with a rifle...
another poor **** was
sent running with bullets...

no need for bullets i guess....
just... hitchhikers... so (idle thumbs)...
        Prato Rifles &... Burdock Bullets...

unless one of the two poor russian buggers
met the other one...
and either had the bullets:
to subsequently get the rifle...
or had the rifle... and got the bullets...

reverse all logic... when it comes
to the spezial Prato Rifles & Burdock Bullets.

Ik swer jado
Me soke nai uthna
Us din dekheo
Sari dunia menu
Pyar karn lag jaungi
Te tuci bi