Seetaro mai akela chaand si thi wo
Foolon ka mehekta guldan si thi wo
Thi nadi jaisi aviral,chanchal
mere dil ka haal si thi wo

Ghani dhoop mai chav si thi wo
Kisi geet ki addaon si thi wo
Thi hava si mehekti, komal
Mere dil ka bhav si thi wo

Beech majhdhaar mai nav si thi wo
Khusian ka pura gaon si thi wo
Thi koyal si meethi,nishchal
Mere man ka abhiman si thi wo

Paido par wo patto waali hari bhari koi daal si thi wo
Holi ke rango mai sabse saadi ek akeli gulaal si thi wo
Thi wadi kasmiri koi
Mere geeton ka sur aur taal si thi wo

Mandir mai wo shankhnaad si,pooja ka prasad si thi wo
Baarish mai mitti ki khushboo,badal ka dharti se sanvaad si thi wo
Thi meri wo beti pyari,usse hi ghar 'harshit' tha
Mere ghar mai sooraj si,Mere ghar ki shaan si thi wo

Thi ab wo jo nahi rahi,aakhir khata kya thi ki usne
mana hi to kia tha na beta shaadi se,
Par dosti ka haath bhi to badhaya tha
Teri Bezatti toh nahi thi ki usne
Fir kyun tune usko har ghar badnaam kia
Dushman na kare,dost hokar tune aisa kaam kia
Chali gayi ab chhod ke mujhko,wo akele jeevan ki saanjh mai
Meri khushiyan,meri duniya,meri pyari jaan si thi wo
Meri pyari jaan si thi wo

They say marriage is all about compromise. If that's the case, newlyweds Kia Parsons and Billy Bunning are off to an excellent start.

The UK couple had different visions when it came to their wedding cake; the bride wanted an all-white tiered cake with cascading sugar flowers. The groom, on the other hand, wanted to incorporate his love of comic book superheroes into the confection. So they met somewhere in the middle:

Julia Baker of Tier by Tier cake design created the cake for the couple's August 14 wedding in Milton Keynes, England. One side is the traditional-looking cake the bride wanted. On the other side, icing curtains reveal the logos of Marvel characters Captain America, Spider-Man and Iron Man, as well as Batman from the DC Comics camp.

"I loved every minute making this cake, as I knew it would be something that people would be surprised at and appeal to all the Marvel fans!" Julia told The Huffington Post.

In all, she spent 40 hours on the cake. It took 12 hours to make the sugar flowers, and the cake-baking and building took about 28 hours.

Needless to say, Kia and Billy were thrilled with the finished product.

"Julia did such a fantastic job and we were completely overwhelmed by how brilliant it looked!" the bride told HuffPost. "From most angles of the room, the cake looked like a traditional wedding cake -- just what we had wanted. It wasn't until the cake was moved for us to cut that our guests realized there was a hidden extra. Some didn't even realize until the photos went online after the wedding!"

On Tuesday, a photo of the cake began going viral when it was shared by the Life Of Dad Facebook page.

"I was surprised at how popular it was and how quickly the pictures circulated on social media," Julia said. "I have plenty more ideas to work on and I am calling these 'double-take cakes.'"

read more:www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-perth

www.marieaustralia.com/white-formal-dresses

A Muslim boy with a clock
Is seen as a terrorist with a glock
Maybe i'm right, maybe i'm wrong
But if he were White, Asian, Hispanic or even Pacific Islander
Nobody would of suspected anything.
When are we going to stop fearing an entire race for only a portion radical and illogical ways of treating others?
I don't tolerate people who behead others if they don't agree with their religion
I don't agree with the repressive governments that control everyone and stone them for minor misdemeanors
There are good men out there fighting this evil that has plagued their homelands
I'm all for ending terrorism of all kinds
But let's stop terrorism of innocents too
Sure, i'm afraid of what the radicals will do to their own people, my people and the rest of the world
But i'll be dammed if i treated somebody from the Middle East like a monster when i don't even know who they are
If it wasn't for a Middle Eastern girl
The Syrians girls wouldn't have an improved education
If it wasn't for a Middle Eastern man fending off the Taliban and risking his entire village to keep Marcus Littrell alive
He would of been KIA a long time ago.
What about the ones who fought and died for America?
Nobody ever mentions them
The media wants me to hate them all, but i laugh and shake my head
Warped minds trying to warp others
I only see the ones who want to do us harm, and the ones who want to live peacefully and away from a life of hell
Brothers and sisters, just a different culture and skin color
I'm sorry if America seems racist or hateful, but i'm proud to be the one who throws those two words in the trash
Because i'm not afraid to speak my mind
And i welcome everyone here
America is everyone's home.
If only the Soviet Union never invaded Afghanistan
If only the people were not scared
To be free like America.
Unity for all,
Religious differences and Cultures alike.
I hope one day a Muslim man or Woman can walk down an American street without being labeled as a terrorist.
I hope one day these repressive governments fall into the hands of democracy
And we start the Age of Unity again.

the miles between point a
   and b are too many
but as always, the race is on

...and oh, yes
  i am in a race
of my own creation

brain calculates and recalculates
eyes darting
vehicles
    sunlight
road
    mirror
(is that an officer of the law?)

i practice the smoothest curves
   fluid motions
but at the same time
      sweet sassy maggy
follow the rules

don't forget the coffee for the love of god
    make it to the one gas station by 7
for ****'s sake, get around the blue car
   the black car
the raggedy old truck
        before the exit or you know
you. are. *******. for. miles.

for christ's sake, use all your ******* skill
   to get a around a stupid slow truck
farm equipment
      or a semi
before thou shall not pass
  or you know your rage will be uncontrollable

things are going well
   you feel confident...you will be on time
you are flying and no one can touch you
   your driving is flawless
       that crazy sun is shining
          and the bass is vibrating your bones

and then t i m e    s   l   o   w  s
    as William H. Macy, you see it
it's that ******* Kia Sportage

adrenaline shoots into my veins
  muscles tense
and i slam into manual
4....3
     take that!
       woman cruising like you're on a lazy sunday drive
          smoking a cigarette like it's 1950.
        
don't you know that i'm in a race,
     and you are my nemesis?

things that hurt

you drive to his house feeling like you are driving to your death. you make a decision not to cry, and then make a decision to cry like hell. you sit in your car for a long time. you pull one card from your tarot deck.
it says zen garden.
you say, **** that and walk to his door.

he hugs you and you can tell that he knows. his kiss feels small and guarded.
walk the dog, make painful small talk, try to avoid the ocean of unsaid things drowning us both
i should say something but instead i put my tongue in his mouth like it's never been there before
or like it never will be again
my fire hands touch every centimeter of his skinny body
fierce, quiet ***.

he plays a song and says, this is sad and i don't know why
i say, read this please and i put my hand on his foot and watch my own tears fall slowly and land on his toes
he reads
i probe his face for the answers to the questions i never asked

seconds seconds seconds.

he flops on his back and opens his mouth wordlessly
i say, Adam
he says, Kia
i burrow on top of him and try to say i love you but it mostly sounds like hurt
he says, everything you wrote just makes me love you more
and all i can do is cry
his eyes say everything and nothing

this girl, Adam, i dream about her
she needs you
she is better for you than i am
a piece of me is with someone else
there is nothing you could have done differently
you are incredible,
i love you
i love you
i love you.

he says, i wish i was strong enough to hold you.
Adam, i say, Adam.
you are strong
how are you so strong?

it's a survival tactic, he said

i'm having a moral crisis because i'm doing this on your birthday
and he says,
birthdays don't mean ****.

i can't imagine another woman, his eyes his eyes his eyes
i try to pull my heart out of the blackhole it has fallen into
and say, she's lucky

that's when he starts crying
and i feel as though pain does indeed exist.
and then he says, i'll miss you so ******* much
and i can't take it.

there comes a point where we are quiet again, almost calm
slipping into the familiarity of laying together on his bed
he starts laughing
what? what's so funny?
he laughs from the soul
he says, its just that this is the weirdest breakup ever
and i have to agree

he puts his hands down my pants and says morosely, i guess this is my last chance
i start crying
he says i didn't mean to make you cry
i say nothing but i grab him
and this time the *** is loud and desperate

that was the best ever, he says
indisputably, i say
and cry again but it's in the shower so he might not notice

i decide to spend the night with this person as i have countless other nights
but suddenly it's not that person and things are different
i wear a shirt and when he cups his hand on my breast i ache

let's sleep on this.

we wake up and i call work and tell them i'm not coming because of a death in the family
it's not a lie
we wake up and forget for a second what happened
then his face changes and he says, Kia

i cry
he says,

don't.

he says, silly Libra, you are scared of your own choices and i'll miss you

he says, do you want a backrub?
i cry for the millionth time and say, yes

i say, what does it feel like
he says, like i'm losing something i never had

i watch him eat breakfast
i put on my socks
i watch him take all of my books off of his shelf
i put on my shoes
i watch his pull out his guitar and sing a broken hearted song written for another girl, turned into a song for me
he adds new words at the end,
i fell in love with a gypsy girl.

i put on my coat.
he says, maybe i want a guitar tuner for my birthday.
i say, Adam
and kiss him.

i say, this is the hardest thing i have ever done
it is out of love
you deserve the best

he says, what do i deserve?
i say, the best
he pulls me in tight and says,
you are the best

i say, i am not the best for you.

he says, i don't believe you but i have to respect you
you are the most powerful woman i have ever met
and every step, every choice i make from here on out is changed.

i say, i will be there if you need me
he says, Kia, i will never grow up unless i learn to not need you


i say, i love you
and walk to the door.

he closes it on me as he says a simple, bye

i wail.

Subah-e-tamaam kay sozo gar
Khoon main nahay apnay lakht-e- jiggar
Aay soz-e-lab-e- baam, kia naghma gungunao gay,
Har roz ik nae tamanna jagao gay?
Unn hasrat bharay dilon main kia kia saaz bajao gay?
Aay saq-e- dil, yun hasraton main jeena bhe kia jeena
Jiss dil main naan koe hasrat , naan koe tamanna!!!
( its urdu language, that is a mother language in Pakistan)

Haqiqat hai yaqeen karlo,
Men usko bhool kar khush ***….

“Muhabbat marr chuki hai ab,
Men usko bhool kar khush ***….

“Badalti rut ki waja se tabyat,
Kuch hai bojhal see….

“Yun mera haal na pocho,
Men usko bhool kar khush ***….

“Tumhen kia weham hai kyn,
Raat bhar milne nahi aaty.???

“Aye mere nennd ki paryon
Men usko bhool kar khush ***….

“Udasi sary ghar men,
Pheeli jati hai ghum bankar….

“Tum har dewaar par likhdo,
Men usko bhool kar khush ***…!!

Translation to Malay Language

Aku gembira untuk melupakanya

Amanah ku ini adalah realitinya
Dan aku gembira untuk melupakannya

Cinta yang telah meningal dunia
Dan aku gembira untuk melupakanya

Translation to English:

I am happy I am not sad to forget
He is mine, that's reality
and I am glad to forget it all
The love has died
and I am happy to forget it all

A hippie hocked a louie on Sammy
when he landed in San Francisco.

Sammy didn't respond;
he just wanted to make
his connecting flight home.

Sammy wasn't proud about
some of things he did in the war;
so he figured he probably
deserved the garlands of disdain
an ungrateful nation bestows
upon itself in fits of self contempt.

Sammy shut down and tuned out,
soon his heart was as dead
as a tombstone until he visited
the monument.  

He would often recall the story
that as he approached the darkened
wall he could sense ghosts loosening
themselves from the black granite.   

Sammy swore that Jimmy Lynch
who went MIA on the final week of his tour
gave him a bear hug and told him
as long as the beer stays cold
and he don’t lose the church key,
everything's groovy and he’s
hanging tough until the rest
of the guys show up.

Jimmy pointed to the Lincoln Memorial
at one end of the mall and to the
Washington Monument at the other,
emphatically stating that our monument
was forever linked with the greatest Americans.

Yeah meeting up with Jimmy
helped Sammy to start shaken
off some real bad stuff.

Mazie knew her husband for a
month before they got married.
A week later Freddie was off to Vietnam.

Freddie was KIA during the Tet Offensive
and his repatriated remains are peacefully
at rest in the red clay of Georgia.

An always faithful Mazie
came to the monument
a few years after it was dedicated.  
She was struck by all the keepsakes
people left at the base of the wall;  
Zippos, baby pictures, a copy of
The Catcher in the Rye, a fifth
of Makers Mark, Pink Teddy Bears,
votive lights, a red 57 Chevy model,
a left handed catchers mitt, and
a pack of Lucky Strikes.

She palmed rosaries and
crucifixes that salved sore
running wounds and David’s
interlaced Star sounding a Shofar
pleading a case for peace.

Mazie is most moved by the names.  
Rows and rows of names. The scroll
begins in a modest manner and
as the wall climbs the names
of a country's vigilant sons and
daughters tower over her head.  
So much living history; spoken
in the unique accent of a country’s
diverse plethora of luminous tongues.

The stories written into the black granite
tell a tale from every state; claiming
the ears, heart and mind of every citizen. 
Each chiseled letter captures every bit
of sun and deep creeping shadow
inching across a great nation.

“I’m  71” says Mazie.  “When I look
upon the wall I see my 21 year old
Freddie as he looked on the finest
day of his life.  He will never look
any other way to me.”
  
“I didn't want to go to see it,” Franny said,
“a cold piece of stone won’t bring my son back.”

Franny did finally go...

When it rains the wall weeps.  
The wall wept all day,
the first time Franny went.

Many were rubbing
the impressions of
dearly departed names.

Franny too, kneels to the
presence of her son’s name.

With a mother's
grateful fingers,
she touches the wall's
damp surface; wiping
the drizzle from her
child's sodden face.

Kneeling before his semblance,
she rubs his etched edges
onto tiny bits of paper.

She sees him,
made manifest in the stone.
As if through a glass darkly,
a found son looks back,
onto the face of a caring mother.

Franny hangs onto the quiet
memory of his voice,
shimmering in the soft lilt
of a warm dark stone.

This deep core Vulcan gneiss,
at last emerged from the hardest stuff,
sculpts a perfect likeness of a tear stained nation.

The Harmonizing Four: Rock of Ages

In Honor of
The Vietnam Veterans Memorial
Washington DC

Oakland
Veterans Day
2013

Gravity is a strong force
pulling and
pulling
yet it manages to stay upright
seems to be
I am like an apple display
stable to the eyes
fragile in reality
one false move
causes everything to tumble
down
one apple at a time
then all at
once

Ek rukha aasman ...ek pyasi jameen...esi hi kuch hamarI khaani.. Dooor h bhut..par nazro me basein.. Rutha ** ek to duja kaise hasse..!! Aankhe ** jab uski nam.. To bheege hum b hurdum.. Kosis bht ki nzre churane ki..par hum toh the Unke dil me phasse..!! Aankho se hi wo izhaar kr gye ..or hum sochte rhe ...unse khe kaise... !! Alag hme b kuch krna..tha...to kuch esa kia.. Maanga jo usne hath toh hmne <3 dil hi de dia !! Waqt b kitna bewafa h bin bole hi nikal.gya... Or wo ret ki trh meri muthhi se fisal gya..!! Wo sapna tha ya hqiqat BS m sochti rhti hu.. Uss hwa ka jhoka h wo..jiske sang m aaj b bahti hu !!!!

what are these feelings i'm feeling?
this rush of emotion clawing at my skin
the excitement of it all sending me reeling
down
         down
                   down
                             to a spiral i cannot escape from
                             is this love? lust? general trust?
                             why does she make me act as so?
                             the curve of her smile brings me
                                                              ­                       down
                                                            ­                                  down
                          ­                                                                 ­           down
                                                 ­                                                               to­ a
                                                                ­                                            chasm
                                                                ­                                              i care
                                                                ­                                             not to
                                                                ­                                            escape
                                                                ­                                              from.

He said don't leave,
It was too early,
Nothing would remain.
He had a worried look on his face,
The first one she'd seen
And the first of many.
He said don't go.
Begged.
Pleaded.
But all she could do was turn and leave.
It was time for both of them,
And she was the only one who realized that.



*She cried every day after...

ethereal
the only word that could ever describe her
magical
her smile and laugh and everything about her
to make her happy
i don't think there's much i wouldn't do

she's like a song
seared into my head
guiding me towards an emptiness

she's like a siren
tearing up my head
driving me insane
locking up my brain
she's like a siren
singing over me
pretty as can be
this siren's gonna be the end of me

she's so wonderful
when she tells me how she feels
and lyrical
is her voice as she takes away my fears

She's like a song
seared into my head
taking me away from all my common sense

she's like a siren
tearing up my head
driving me insane
locking up my brain
she's like a siren
singing over me
pretty as can be
this siren's gonna be the end of me.

My love,
My lovely heart,
It's okay to feel broken,
It's okay.
Kensui my dear heart.
Kensui.

My love,
My lovely heart,
I know you're strong,
You are stronger than you think,
I know you are.
Kia Kaha my dear heart,
Kia Kaha

Be strong my lovely heart,
you are beautiful,
you have a lot of love,
you never know the real meaning of tired,
you never give up,
you are full of hope,
you will love them to eternity,
you, my heart, keep on beating,
keep on keeping me alive,
keep on the beautiful rhythm,
although sorrowfulness ambience interferes,
my heart, keep on playing the beautiful rhythms,
Akiramenaide my heart,
Akiramenai.

Oh my dear heart,
there are millions of mile of life to go through yet,
obstacles and hardship, those are the promises of God,
likewise pure bliss and eternal happiness, afterlife
we can't change that my dear heart, we can't,
but we can be strong,
Ganbatte my heart, Ganbatte.

Visions rend me from my slumber in their bone-chilling talons,
freezing every drop of blood coursing through my veins.
The breath torn away from my lungs form a tortured scream that hangs thickly, mingling with the hazy moments between sleeping and awake.
Gasping for air, I fumble in the darkness for reality.
The murky panic passes and once again, I am alone in the dark.
Retreating back into the comfort of my bed I longingly seek the peace that enveloped me while you were here.  Again tonight, my search is in vain.
As it will always be.

The past played out again in such painstaking detail.
Uniformed officer marching somberly to the door with the chaplain.
Bearing a neatly folded flag, dog tags shining brightly upon it.
And the letter.
The most dreaded letter.
I know what it says without reading a word.
I strain to hear their voices in the distance.

Regret to inform you...
Killed in action...
Our deepest sympathies.

Unable to gouge out the sight in my minds eye,
I feel the last shred of fortitude drain from my body
The images take root in every dismal corner of my mind.
Replaying over and over until I am numb.
A cigarette to calm my nerves.  A sigh of momentary relief.
I think I will just stay awake tomorrow night.

in a world without hate
we all have a clean slate
and no grudge is held against you

no foul and no lie
no reason to cry
no want for redemption too

so we pick up ourselves
to store them in shells
knowing they will always love you

but without hate is no love
no divine blessings from above
no need for kindness and grace

no laughter no smiles
no need to be riled
only a long empty face

so it festers and kicks
against the realm which it sits
a body of unmatched pace

through a crack it slips
because hate, it chips
away at an enclosed cage

and it lingers and smells
and breaks up all shells
in bouts of fury and rage

through barriers comes forth
a mass on no course
to nothing, no where, no aim

no place to be hateful
no need to be loved
no want to play life's age old game.

Mystical creatures, that play in the dark
They are the creation of blackness so stark

Mystical creatures, they bring fear to me
Fear of all those I cannot see

Mystical creatures, are you even real?
Or are you just the ideas we steal?

Mystical creatures, afire in the night
To bring young children certain looks of fright

Mystical creatures, do you listen to me?
Head my caution of that which could be

Mystical creatures, beware of the light!
For it shall surely end your fight!

Mystical creatures, stay with me, I dare
I promise we'll be the perfect pair

Mystical creatures, the sun is rising fast
Away to the shadows, where you don't contrast

Mystical creatures,  just follow my advice
If not, you shall become colder than ice

Mystical creatures, the sun is now risen
Return! Now! To your underground prison!

Mystical creatures, please don't be rash
Oh no! There you go! You've turned to ash

Oh why did those creatures not listen to me
Well, at least now,  they are ever so free

It never stopped as they came at us day and night and they knew every move we made because the surrounding jungles were filled with them and as we thought we were hunting them, in reality we were the ones hunted and as they watched us set up for the night, the enemy would try to fulfill a single purpose: to **** me and my fellow Marines that made up the deadliest Marine combat unit operating in the ASHAU Valley (Valley of Death) at that time in 1969.

Arriving in Vietnam I discovered that it was very different than the nightly news reports that I watched from my Hotel room in Alaska and that the American public watched safely at night in their homes, and strange as it may seem I remember watching Marines walking through the rice paddies while the announcer was announcing the number of KIA's and I was thinking, maybe that's where I should be. Be careful what you think!!

Nothing could have prepared me ( a 20 year old "hippie"drafted and taken off the streets of the 60's ) for what I was about to face and what I was about to have to do in order to make it home on my feet and not in a body bag.

Trained to be a 20 year old killing machine by the United States Marine Corps, I did what I had to do to arrive home on my own two feet but it
would change my life forever and I didn't know it until 40 years later.

The adrenaline rush that came after each ****, and the more kills you recorded the more you got off and the more power you had and the
more you wanted to **** some more and it became an addiction and this
was suddenly gone when I got home and I reacted by covering my fear
with humor but 40 years after I knew something was terribly wrong with
me as I listened to reports of 22 Veterans a day, 24/7 committing suicide and at first I didn't understand why until one day I was thinking about different ways to die.

The physical pain had set in along with mental scars that would not go away as I thought about Vietnam every day as I began entertaining ways to die to get off this miserable train of thought and all the VA would do is to give me a PTSD disability pension and prescribe pills for the pain and during all those years it became clear that I was going nowhere and had become invisible to the world so why should I not go ahead and do the same as those 22 a day.

2017 and I am still here but I still think about Vietnam every day but I choose to write to keep my mind away from those days in the jungles shooting anyone I saw and these days I write for those 22 a day that can no longer deal with what they had to do and crossed that fine line between life and suicide that is so very close for me but for some reason I stand tall and am proud of my service to my country and feel sorry for those who will never know the depth of a Veterans pride and if I am still alive when you read this poem it is because someone drove home the fact that they actually cared whether I lived or died and that they actually appreciated what I did so many years ago in that far away jungle but that place is still on my mind every day and probably will be until the day I die and that is all I have to say on this Memorial Day.
                                                                                   Jon York  2017
                                                                                    Kilo 3/5
                                                                                 Vietnam  69- 70

How strange and strong and wonderful
is the gentle whispers of the wind
how picturesque
how imminent
how full of peace and bliss

the wind is a friend
a warm embrace
a cool shoulder
a being of unparalleled heights
everywhere
yet nowhere

succumb to the will of the wind
douse yourself within its emptiness

love it
hate it
feel it

embrace its wisdom
enjoy the simple pleasure of a life unchosen
enjoy the wonders of the wind.

You said there is nothing
not distance
not time
not sacrifice
not even love
between me & you
as you turned your back on me
and walked far far away
further than I could see you
(I still see you when I close my eyes)
further than I could hear you
(I still hear you call my name)
I ask
what is this then
this strong pull
that brings you back to me
and me back to you
is this not the universe conspiring
is this not the sun kissing the moon
is this not the stars whispering
if me & you were never meant to be
if me & you are never meant to be
if "I" is not meant to be with "U"
then what is putting us back together
like pieces of a broken heart
then why are all my dreams about you
and trust me I have nightmares too
but they too are all about you
tell me why
do you do this
only to do that
and why
is there nothing
yet everything between me & you
why is it so ******* easy to love you
when I have all the reasons to hate you

if god never meant for us
to be together
then why
did he put "this"
between us
and more importantly
what the **** is "this" .

Then there are those times you write
Because otherwise the words will tear you up inside
Like supercharged particles
Of steam under pressure
Or uranium reaching critical mass
So you set to the task
Grab pen and paper
Or iPhone and browser
And start uploading your sins onto clean white sheets
Of loose leaf or LCD
As if possessed by some other self
Or non-self
Itself a fountain of diction
A percolation of syntax
Bubbling up and out so as not to **** the messenger
And lines flow
Kia ora koutou katoa
Nga hoa
Me toku whanau
My friends
And family
Be well
See well through this life
And her pitfalls
Tall walls and
Crash courses in experience
Standard variance and deviation from the mean
She can be mean
She can be cruel and unkind sometimes
But you’ll find rhymes to make lines line up like signs on the highway
And find even in grief there is beauty
Truth in pain
Life in suffering
There is no judgement inherent in these things and none at all other than that which we place upon them
Negative or positive are uniquely human conditions
Everything else just is
It sits within itself
Without apprehension of the fourth dimension
Not beating up younger selves for poor decisions made by poorly equipped versions
Nor fearing an abstract time hence
From whence march our fears about death
And a life well spent
And incontinence
And I think my phone bill is going to be massive
And I think my 2 minutes is up
And I think my 15 minutes is up
Where was I again?
Words have surfaced
Simmered and settled down
Beauty in the badness
Truth in the madness
Tiredness overtakes
Like post coitus
An **** of the monastic order
Intellectual intercourses subsequent exhaustion
And sleep calls ceaselessly
As if nothing else mattress

The walls around me fade
A sky so clear and blue
Air arround me smells of rain
Yet still I think of you
Nature is my hiding place
I'm free to be myself
Out in the open, I am safe
Safer than when I'm with you
Yes, you might be happy
But do you see my smile?
I can run and jump and sing
For freedom is what's mine
A place of peace and paradise
Cool winds blow through my hair
Oh how I love my perfect place
No, I don't want to share
Yet soon my daydream ends once more
The scene disappears
Prison walls, back in there place
And I am left in tears

Ussse Allah sE khof Araha tha bepanah khof wo kiTna
taqatwar tha Kia nahi kr skta tha wo kitna meharban tha Kia
NI krTa tha insan ko insan rakhna USSE atta tha kbhi Gazab
se Kabhi ahsan se wo usse us k daire me hi rakhta tha

In second grade, we did an experiment with static electricity
We rubbed balloons on our heads,
& stuck them to walls
& kissing you is kinda like that
My hair stands on end,
I get shocked when I touch things
& I want to tell you stupid stuff like,
kissing you is a bundle of kittens
colliding with my face at .5 miles an hour
It's like being shot with a dart gun
made of hummingbirds
that shoots darts made of hummingbirds

& your lips are so soft,
I can't actually tell when we are touching,
like braiding hair underwater,
like napping under a blanket filled with rainbows & clouds,
& your favorite books

When you kiss me,
the cartoon devil & angel on my shoulder
climb into my ears,
like all of my neurons,
& start ******* on my brainsteam
If you were a 300 pound professional weight lifter
& if I were a Kia Sorento,
you could drag me anywhere

Kissing you is patient & impossibly slow,
like peeling paint off the wall with glittery stickers,
or cooking a turkey with a lighter
You remind me of the time in second grade
when Bethany Hopkirk
called me a freak face & stabbed me in the arm with a pencil
Cause kissing you is kinda like that,
unhealthy & will probably result in disfigurement
But baby, bring on the ****** scars & lead poisoning
Cause when you kiss me,
you are dangling me off a bridge by a belt
You are the screen door of my childhood,
all taste & swinging
So full of holes you could never keep anything in

You are every black eye,
you're a semitruck & I'm a turtle with two broken legs,
& a broken heart
You are illegal fireworks falling down stairs together,
driving on four flat tires,
playing frisbee at night with a saw blade
Kissing you is like falling out of a 37 story window,
exploding into a cloud of robins
& reappearing on the ground with my mouth full of feathers

& when I can't kiss you,
I try to find the static electricity in my apartment
I dig around in light sockets,
change lightbulbs with my teeth,
& make out with the toaster
& I know we've only been seeing eachother
for a couple of weeks,

But baby, when you kiss me,
I can't remember my middle name,
or which one is my left foot
So come over tonight
We'll shuffle around the apartment in our socks,
& we'll let our lips drift toward each other,
like tectonic plates made...

out of kittens

she waits on knights and kings
the pain and glory that they bring
the laughter and mirth of their fans

she waits on dukes and lords
the greatness they launch you towards
the lifestyle, the grandeur, the decay

she waits on mansions and castles
and any other large parcels
to give her the joy that she craves

she waits on what she knows
from white fences to old shows
to once again make her feel

she waits on death and life
to combat her strife
and bring her peace amidst the pain

she waits on earth and moon
and every sandy dune
to love and adore her as one

she waits on what she can't take
and all her previous mistakes
it haunts and torments her at night

she waits on dark and light
she waits on her last true fight
a battle of place and time

she waits on pain and hate
wishing for a clean slate
"any moment now."

what a whacky weekend, it's finally over, a shift at the Romford ice rink watching Romford Raiders vs. Peterborough Phantoms, selling tickets, ones by card, others by cash, checking pre-booked ones... and then? the easiest shift... watching the game... i have to be honest: the first time i watched ice hockey live i was bored stiff... but then again i was on top of the stands looking down on the game... from a high place looking down? it's... a really **** sport... BUT... today i had more flexibility... i was next to the rink... i have to admit: to watch ice hockey properly you need to be really close to the ice... and compared to the Oxford United shift?! **** me... im never doing that ****** shift ever again! ten hours out of the house and for what? £35 quid? here i can wear black trainers, i don't need to wear a white shirt or tie... i "work" for 4hours and get paid for 5... plus? i can cycle here and be back before i know it... total time spent out of the house? maybe 4.5hours... plus at the ice rink might get a free hot dog like today and a free drink: plus as it happens in ice hockey, the whole play-stop routine the DJ will play some sample of a song, today i managed to hear a sample (donkey's years old - September Cry For You... i knew it but forgot it, but remembered the lyrics: you'll never see me again ¶but that's not about all of that... i was talking with my coworker about finishing our shift at Wembley yesterday, she finished much later... oh! it took me ages to get home! i only got home at 4am - i sort of blundered and replied: yeah, me too... she's quick to pick up lies - but didn't the trains work? oh no, they did. so how come you only got in at 4am? oh, i don't know (****, one little white lie will not pass her, she was already growing suspicious, i should have just told her the hypothetical truth that i managed to get home at after just 1am... and i would have, i got to Stratford and spotted that the Southend Victoria bound train was via Romford, and not via Shenfield... it was supposed to come in 5 minutes by the time i was standing on the platform, but suddenly it became delayed, a passenger was taken ill... it would take forever for the train to start again... the original plan was to go the brothel, but i figured: i might as well go home early, get some chicken on the way at Romford and catch the last bus home, get in early and write for a while... but then the ill passenger made me return to my original plan). ¶well an hour or two later i had to own up as to why i came in at 4am, so i told her: well, you know... the reason why i came home at 4am is because i had, a slight, ahem "detour"... she looked at me smiled and sort of giggled... oh: that sort of "detour"? yeah... the beautiful thing about this was that i gave no further explanations... maybe she figured it out, maybe she didn't...

I.

well... at it's not me scribbling with squint eyes after having
have to catch four night buses to come home from Wembley
from a shift at 4am... this time i stopped over
at the brothel...
i can't help myself:
i can hit the ultimate high but then follow up with
the lowest of lows...
i even managed to buy a t-shirt... ****'s sake...
what are the chances of a "tour" of "compensation":
paying tribute to a drummer...
with only two dates of tribute... today's currently the 4th...
i don't exactly: love love Foo Fighters...
they can't topple the pyramid of Red Hot Chilli Peppers...
but it's still so much better than
what i heard the previous night.. Garage...
i had to buy that £40 t-shirt... they were running low
on the one i really liked: the yellow one...
i bought the black one... waited...
soon the merchandise shops opened again and the yellow
one was made available once more...
oh man... it's 4am and it's not like i just took 4 night buses
to get home...
i took the tube from Wembley Park to Stratford and then...
plans changed twice... i was originally planning
to visit the brothel... then...
a Southend via Romford bound train was supposed
to come... o.k. forget the brothel...
but then... a passenger became ill on the train
and the train became delayed indefinitely...
**** me... off to the brothel i go...

it was sort of gladdening to have seen
    josh homme...
                 brian johnson... liam gallagher...
roger taylor... rufus taylor...
   brian may... who else was there?
brian mccartney... the pretenders, i.e. chrissie hynde...
i had the best view in the stadium...
at the far end opposite the stage... fifth level Wembley...
in the disabled (accessibility sector)...
easy... boring... 12 hour leg numbing shift...

no... i don't really like the Foo Fighters...
i like Andrea though, our supervisor... this tiny little
creature with spectacles that looked
so quirky lifting her spectacles up
and looking at a page when writing like she might
have looked at bacteria through a microscope...
darling: she called me...
      yes: the the great big world would eat me up
with a yawn and i'd still reply: yawn great big
world... should i meet her ever again:
a woman of my implant idealism... of borrowed books
and failed loves...

i have a t-shirt to prove that i was at this gig...
that's all i have... but i don't think i was there...
i think i was looking for my shadow in Andrea's shadow...

i'm pretty sure someone died...
oh man... going to the brothel this tired is always a bad
idea... more unprotected ***...
but this time Khedra was different...
she kept whispering: **** a blonde little baby into me...
half asleep but nonetheless with a *******
i was thinking: what?!
three aphrodisiacs... the proper cider... exercise and
excess tiredness...
a complete ****-up of the senses....

even now it's coming to 5am and i'm thinking about
that *******'s slapping of a shift at the ice-rink
tomorrow from 4 through to 8...
i never thought that ice-hockey could be just a boring
sport to watch...
i.e. where's the puck?! hockey to me is a bit like
monotheists in prayer...
lunatics... at least the pagan Hindus throw spices
and more spices around to cover themselves in excess of
what can be sometimes missing in nature...
but monotheistic reasoning for procrastinating
within the confines of labouring the bend and beating
of prayer to an otherwise deity that demands
the "prayer" of "thought" rather than
the deification through a "prayer of the body"
and use of the tongue...
    monotheism ought to never be about pseudo-paganism
of procrastination with idle words on idle
tongues of idle bodies... the matrimony of lunacy
of bending objects...
monotheism is a sort of telepathy...
a telekinesis...
prayer should be abolished in monotheism...
as well as all the lunatic deifications of monotheism...
esp. in Islam and Judaism...

                monotheism ought to start to equate
thinking with speaking...
by that standard... collapse it furthermore...
the freedom of thought is not the same as the freedom
of speech... in that writing: with writing being
the extension of thinking: the medium of writing
is not an invitation to speak, but rather an invitation to think!
monotheism speaks like the pagans speak...
too much... monotheism has as many mantras
as polytheists have...
the only difference is that the monotheists have
abstracted their deities as cryptic language structures...

in the crypts of the ciphers:
one can find at least one decipher... some sacred word...
either over-used: e.g. blah-lah
or under-used: the acronym yhwh...
of Æ... when Adam was a Siamese twin with Eve...

i'm sort of... half blinking... i have these half closed
eyes: i'm squirming and pretending to blink....
i lay mountains in a single valley
and later called this same mountain range
a witness of the canary's song that could
encompass a folding of a cave to boil a river
to a standstill: from a sea create a river
and from a lake a mirror...
what miser ******* i'm thinking:
thank god i'm simply thinking it rather than speaking
it in arena of rhetoric...

let clouds be puffs of negative-salt clusters...
negative-salt clusters so that they can absorb
"positive-water" into their invisible gobs...
and... like seagulls... carry the food-stuff over
kilometres of agony... from sea toward land...
from rivers to the lakes...
and then back again... from the lakes toward
the seas...

II.

i must have been really tired yesterday, i just abandoned
part I. altogether: i don't want to know what i've written,
i'm not rereading it... i'll have to rewrite some aspects
of it...
                 today i feel livelier and actually awake...

1. i figured out the brothel, finally! it took me some time!
half an hour sessions... no more those 1 hour sessions...
why? i can go more often, ergo i can **** all of them in the brothel,
so much so that i will have to start looking for
a new brothel... one hour sessions don't work anymore:
if i am to please a woman who i never met,
i either will or i won't... and that will be within the confines
of half an hour...

2. my three favourite aphrodisiacs are:
(a) cider + a little bit of whiskey + a cigarette or two
(b) exercise
(c) tiredness... my god... every time i came back
from a very long shift i would try to relax before
writing by jerking off... each and every time i would
get a ******* like clockwork....
i guess tiredness switches the mind off completely
and you feel more and more uninhibited...
mix that with aphrodisiac (a) and made (c) comparable
to the effects of (b)... hey presto!

a rare moment for me... original thinking while sitting
and listening to my father dictate to me
the invoice i'm just writing
myślnik: i.e. dash or hyphen (-)
od nowego akapitu / wiersza:
            from a new / "poem"
it's not actually a new "poem", it's more a new verse...
i.e. it's lazy speaking because it's not
actually akin to the sign applied in medieval
times to use up as much paper with
an indicator for a new paragraphs
employing the ¶ (the blind P): come to think of it,
i think i'll employ it in the italic section of the intro.
i just added... them... the pilcrow...
it was used to use up as much paper as was available...
these old texts never wasted space...
but a revelation came when writing my father's invoice:
thank god i'm an employee and i do not have
to write any invoices or do any tax self-returns...
of all the people employed i don't know whether anyone
else is in my position...
but the revelation came with...
i remember my English teacher: the Scot didn't teach us
much English... he introduced me to jazz and a love
for Led Zeppelin rather than Black Sabbath...
but i remember his one major lesson:
you, don't, start, a, new, sentence,
with: a, conjunction, namely: and!
you can't stand a sentence with And...
what is the semi-colon for?

after all, what's the semi-colon in Arabic?
either the letter(s) dh (the H is a surd borrowed
from the name of the Hebrews' deity)
                  ذ or Z(ed)               ز    -
aren't these semi-colons?! ; ذ ز
                                                               ­ ?

but i had a split consciousness: the cat that was sleeping
in my bed decided to jump out of the window and
sit on the roof of the kitchen...
while i was typing the invoice...
when i got back into the bedroom he was still
sitting on the roof... i have an invisible leash
on my cat... the moment he saw me perched
on the windowsill: i smoked one cigarette: he noticed me...
he jumped straight back into the room
and is current sleeping on my bed...

a split consciousness? what song to listen to?
the original i started with? September cry for you?
Collie Buddz Sensimillia?
Stephen Marley hey baby / iron bars
or Combichrist sent to destroy?
obviously the foremost...

i had to scribble this note down in between writing
the invoice:

/ aesthetic:
                                                      ­   look up Gothic
    bl.... blah blah. Also...                  a script and ᚱᚢᛖᛋ
                  no!                                       ­                       Σ
b (scribbled out)
"           "          "   ; also

                                          via example of And at beginning
                                             of (a) sentence
                                             is a massive
                                                         ­     no-no! /

some Copernican rotations in place... notably
via the Runic E (ᛖ) and the Greek S (Σ)
and obviously the work that went into crafting
the Roman S and ...
huh? i never heard about this 'un... the sigma-reflection...
what's this?

                           σ² ≡ E

id est: a twofold reflection on one plane
produces the operation of identity;
     any planar molecule has at least one mirror plane.

ugh... coding... something for termites...
    <p><var>a²</var>
                                   and what modern poet dabbles
in STEM methodology? people are still complicated?
or just plain ******* daft... having created so many complications
of their / adding toward their lives outside of themselves?
i think it's the latter...
there's no longer a need to concern oneself for
"being there":

Heidegger was slow on picking up on what
Zhuangzi talked about beyond his grave:
   the... grammatically correct "concern": or rather...
in the eyes of the Chinese rather than the German
concept of "there being" as that of concern...
the Chinese variant was always "being there" with
a sense of non-doing... some thing are unchangeable...
yes, pressed by the continuum of un-change-ability...
you can't alter the sun or the gravity the planets are fed
by it...
  to orbit...
               unlike Egyptian hieroglyphs... Chinese hieroglyphs
are ideograms... they are more than sounds:
they are as simple as sounds of letters...
whether alone or coupled... but they are also IDEAS...
ergo, they are ideograms...
"being there" is one of these...

                           在: zai... roughly, i'm not an expert...
i'm a: LA-IK... but Heidegger preached the wrong sort
of thinking, if Tao is the correct sort of thinking:
this is the contention (from the Chinese prespective)
against the German interpretation of da-sein...
i'm not concerned: that would be very Christian of me...
i'm not a fraud of F.O.M.O. (fear of missing out):
that takes concern... i know i can't change the world:
i can only change myself in order to grow into myself...

ANY AND ALSO are grand examples of when
the semi-colon ought to be used in a sentence,
a semi-colon is a follow-up to a thing already stated...
... yes... i use that puncture marker when
i'm following up one thought with another...
it's not aesthetically pleasing, but then again i am not wasting
any paper or using a type-writer...

but i have (i've) seen too many books in print
where a sentence opens up with such: DISGRACE
(the negation of grace, the prefix dis-, id est)

it figures... i'm too intelligent to **** neuro-typical women...
i need to **** prostitutes...
i'm not even paying myself a compliment...
i walked back from the shift peering into the houses...
ageing couples... one on one armchair
another on another armchair... living the easy:
mortal life... oh **** me...
alone again... the children flew their nest...
just waiting for a spot in the old people's home:
Protestantism is so cruel when it comes to old age...
it's spectacular when you're young!
me? i'm sticking around...
i applied the Japanese method of *******...
sure... no long partner: no need to talk...
at least the Japanese are unabashed about
complications of housing... at least they're open
about the ラブ ホテル (rabu hoteru)...
spares me the need to **** prostitutes: but no!
oh no! no no!
i need to **** prostitutes to avoid my makeshift
boney **** of a hand!
i need to eat, i need to sleep, i need to ****...
i don't care what the WASPS spew from over the "pond":
i stopped listening a long time ago...

hey! Darwinism preached adaptation...
i'm adapting! it's called... have you heard the term?
E-VO(h)-LOO-SH-ON?!
i know it's spelling evolution...
but you hardly hear the T to begin with...
well... if God made Poland his playground
(according to Norman Davis)
i'll just make England MY... mein SPIELPLATZ!
sorry... not England: ING-LEASH!
this is my playground!
                  
                                 well if God can make Poland
his playground for the Turks, the Swedes,
the Russians and the Germans to pretend to tickle
and juggle... i'll make his favorite tongue:
my... playground... i''ll make sure as many people
come to London as are readily available...
let's see, "god"... who's going to start having
a *****-fit... i can watch the natives become minorities...
don't worry... i'll fit in just plain dandy with the other
minorities: they won't even know where the ****
i'm from... they'll think i'm English but when i tell them
that i'm not German they might have a second
thought: why have so many Arab names
popped up as "friends" on my facebook?!

that's the thing about Slavs... English speaking people
associated Orcs with Africans...
well... where's Mordor? East?!
last time i checked... are these people going to be throwing
pronoun-grenades at the Russians as the Russians
starve Europe from a gas supply?!
oh sure sure... the "worship" of "correct" pronoun
usage is already keeping me warm: the warmth of WRATH...
maybe i didn't have children because i thought that:
my natural intelligence wouldn't be passed down
and they would become products of their
environment and peer pressure?!
i think so... i think i refrained from having children
because i thought: mein gott! and what if they might
be swayed by idiots?! guttrauer (good grief)...
imagine!
- but as i was walking back from the shift...
i noticed these old couples... me god, their ageing so quickly...
i sticking put... my parents invested in me...
now i'm going to invest in them...
i'm not moving... i'm not going to rent...
i'm sitting on money! i'm sitting on Smaug's ransom!
i'll keep them youthful for as long as i can...
they will not be sitting in two armchairs alone
before a t.v. with pictures of their children and grand-children
hanging on the wall...
they'll just have to deal with the insolent drinking
alone little me...
i'll entertain them... i'll do the household chores...
i'll cook for them... i'll do the d.i.y.:
they're not going to be packaged like ******* mushrooms
into the dark into an old people's home...
and whatever women that comes into my...
ah... ah ha ha ha... what woman? for a relationship?!
relationship with: what, exactly?!
i already have sway over a woman's body whenever i feel
like it: whenever i feel like...
do women have intellect? i.e. talk about what?
other people... i've heard it before...
you couple with a woman and all she wants to do is
talk about how happy she is when she's with you seeing
other women being single: how "superior" she is...

what conversation? the best conversations i ever had
were with strangers or when i started to write...
when i untangled my thinking into not-thinking...
i wouldn't appreciate a life of simply being lazy
existentially... this is not the right sort of time to be lazy
existentially: why? becoming existentially focused
by the simple demand of external forces that force
you to beg for explanations: just like the 20th century
proved is no beginning or, for that matter:
an encapsulation of: what?
do people really think literacy is omnipresent?!
if it truly was... we wouldn't have people scratching
letters in graffiti mode on brick walls like
those of Lascaux... sure... the caves imploded:
but the skyscrapers exploded...

how times change...
back in the day, even Milan Kundera lamented
the sayings of Neville Chamberlain...
what were those?
how horrible, fantastic, incredible it is that
we should be digging trenches and trying
on gas-masks here because of a quarrel in
a far away country between people of
whom we know nothing
that explains a lot... Czechoslovakia is
just a little bit nearer Ukraine... Ukraine is on the map!
far far way: i'm pretty sure the British became
confused by digging the Suez canal:
India suddenly became West of Ireland...
when it came to navigating ships!

that's the thing about the Slavs... we'd sooner start
a war amongst ourselves than succumb
to some Germanic festering wound of the intellect:
pronouns! blah blah ha!
the Germanic consolidation project for Europe:
hell! bring the entire world to our shores!
that's an Germanic intellectual starvation project!
the Slavs, like Orcs: would sooner fight among
themselves than tempt the idiot cross-eyed
serpent of the Germanic Twilight of Intellect...

today i learned the reason why i was so attracted
to that middle-aged woman from London Stadium
who looked like a frightened doe: in head-lights...
i was coupled with her at the Basildon shift...
isolated... i had to talk to her...
       Chill-y... she's actually Turkish... i would have
never known! i like Turkish and Romanian girls...
hell... if English girls have this post-colonial
black fetish against their fathers...
i'll pick one (fetish) for myself... wait... i have one...
we're good... we're equal...
now? more! more! more!
i need to fry my mind with as much ****-box-*****
as possible!
i'm not stopping: something was woken in
me that should be sleeping a tight monogamous sleep...
that's not, going to happen...
like all the beautiful girls that turn out to
be prostitutes: akin to nature's sake:
everyone would love to live through
seeing a tornado, a daffodil blossom...
******* a beautiful girl...
a man with many arrangements:
i don't want to be selfish...

last night was just, plainly, weird...
i can't remember the last time i was asked so many
questions...
Khedira asked me: so... did you prefer Michaela...
who? the short plump girl with great ****?!
the blow-up *** of pump?
or did you prefer the taller girl?
i'm just asking, as a friend... the former...
something was afoot...

the wind blows in cold into my bedroom...
it's a welcome breeze... it folds itself around
my ankle prior to strangling me around the neck
while kissing my forehead...

the glorious 4 were sitting there...
the one with the glasses was incredibly talkative...
Mona... Mina? does it matter... she was wearing
glasses...
where have you been? i ripped off my
bands... showed her: Wembley... the Taylor Hawkins'
tribute concert... oh... dearest Adriana...
that supervisor... please don't call me darling...
not when we're working... my name is enough...
out of the 4 i chose the predictable non-****** ****..

as you do...

i haven't seen Khedra for a while... the started with her
usual *******: thank **** that she doesn't charge me
for unprotected ***... either oral or vaginal...
i felt sort of relaxed-tired from not having to put
on the rubber... but we Polacks and Turks are
cleanly people: we wash ourselves regularly...
i can't remember the last time i *******
a *****-load into a woman while she whispered
into my ear that she wanted a blonde baby:
eating and burning my blonde mustache and love-bruise
of hair growth (catching up to the length of
my length of beard... some ******* quarrel between
a boy and a girl while i was leaving Wembley,
he breaks the argument... direct her sight toward
me with: i love your beard! my bib?! i.e. t-shirt...
forty quid... i'm later informed he was talking about
my beard and not my t-shirt... what?!
i've just spent 6 hours in an environment
where you have to don ear-plugs...
what?! i can't her you! EAR PLUGS!
you can still hear the music, but you can't sense
the vibrations! bib?! 40 quid... oh! right... oh! beard...
yeah... thanks... it took 3 years to grow)

but i had to **** Khedra firt... i slapped her ***...
she slapped me... i wish she slapped my face...
i deserved it... i was asking permission without asking
permission: oh... Mina looks lively...
the one wth the glasses... she's happy...
how about we have a *******...
that's the second time i've bee asked to have a *******...
i know Khedra could make a ******* magical...
seriously... i watched as she harked up some bad
*******...
next time i told her... before she gulped and swallowed
an "oyster" of my missing *******...
2nd ******* *******... well... **** me...
i'm not exactly readied to disembody myself:
quit certainn limbs: on a whim...
who's paying? of course i'm paying!
i'm not paying for food! i'm paying for the *******!
dating is such a 20th century sort of past-time...

people: get with the times!
the 20th century requires closure:
you're not giving it!
   i told her: next time... next time...
sure... you and Mina can please me...
i hope this second ******* will be much better than the frist...
i'd love to see you two kissing...
before competing for the oyster Olympics
of slapping ****...

me god... first she ****** me off then she decided:
you did enough work arching over me in the missionary
position... i'll ride you...
women are strange that way...
they speak during *** like men might speak
during sleep...
what i heard...
what didn't i hear? i'm sure as **** knowledgeable
not hearing any lies...
i don't pay for lie... i pay for ****....
after she finished her oral ***
and climbed onto me and told me to look into
the mirror...

i was thrilled with warm-shivers...
it wasn't an ******...
but close enough...
           she was stalling... shivers...
shivers: she was stalling a ******...
******-lost *** is... is what it is...
i was her parterened self re-partnered...
he clicked: a wet ***** a hard-on ****
of an uncircumcised phallus...

upon insertion? you always aim below
the floral patterns of the ****...
of the *****... you aim an inch above the ****
at the root of the ****...
it's a bit like undoing a woman's bra...
inserting your "weapon" into a woman's
"shield"... sword-sheath-sword-sheath...
metaphorical, "metaphorical": of course...

but she did say: you taste all of them!
don't me mind! if i'm readying myself...
you choose another: choose another!
have as many women as you please!
don't feel obliged to choose only me!
well: doesn't love have to be shared?!
i can't be selfish! i can't just love one woman
when so many women are left loveless!
can i? i must love as many woman as are readily
available!
if i find boy exclaiming: i love your beard, mr.
i'm pretty sure the women are tediously shy
about a great number of details about me!

die forderungen von dies nacht ar fertig!
the demands of this night are finished!
ein tag kann gewinnen sie mit
morgen sonnenaufgang

                                              alle­ mit morgig verheiße.

Vibrant are our colours
We wear upon our sleeves
Loud and proud thats who we are islanders from the south seas... we know who we are and
where we come from
Our parents taught us well

I'm proud to say I'm
PI decent as I wear
Flowers in my hear
KIA ORANA
Hope all is well
I'm so glad to met you

just being me

TERE DIL ME RAHNE KA SHAUK THA HAMEE BETAHASHA ;

TERE SATH KII IS DIL KOO TALAB THI;

TERE LABH SE KUD KA NAAM SUNNE KA ZID THA…

TU ZINDAGI TOH PAHLE SEE THI MERI;

AUR SHYAD AB ZEENE KA KARAN BHI HOO *** …



CHAH KAR BHI TERE KARIB AANE SE DARTA HUU;

DIN RAAT TUJHE SOCH KAR BHI LABH *** LANE SEE DARTA HUU;

TIL TIL KAR TERE SATH KO MARTA HUU….

AUR KOI PUJHE TOH BAS, HAS KAR ITNA KAHTA HUU;

WO EK MUSAFIR THI JISKI MANJIL MAI NAA THA ;

WO EK CHAKOR THI JISKA CHAND MAI NAA THA;

WO EK DARIYA THI JISKA SAHIL MAI NAA THA…



EK BAR FIR SEE USKEE LIYE YEE DIL MACHAL RAHA HAI;

FIR SEE NAYE SAPNE DEKHNE KOO YEE DIL  MAR RAHA HAI ;

KAISE SAMJHAUU IS NADAN PARINDEE KOO ;

KII TUU EK BAR FIR TUTNE KI OOR BADH RAHA HAI….



WOO KAHTE THE IS JHUTE ISK KI BATEE NA KIA KARO;

DIL TUMHARA HAMME CHOR KISI AUR KE LIYE BHI DHARKEGA ;

KUCH DIN ME AASHIKI KA BHUKAR BHI SAR SEE UTREGA ;

PAR AB KYA BATAE JANAB KOO ,

DEKHE UNHE  TOH MANO EK ARSA SAA HOO GAYA;

PAR AAJ BHI WOO HAR EK PAL ENN SANSOO  ME RAVA HAI;

AAJ BHI IS DIL ME BAS UNKI HI JAGAH HAI;

UNKI YAD ME AAJ BHI RAATE KATHI HAI HAMARI;



FARK BAS ITNA HAI HAMARI CHAHTE EK DUSRE SEE JUDAA HAI….