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A crescent moon shines upon their face

as they walk towards their fate together

hands entwined, love in their hearts

they thought they would live forever.


A startling sound in that lonely night

the hearts beating faster than ever

the cold fear rising in their spines

thought they wouldn't break apart, never.


Years after living together

they thought it was trust that bound them

years after loving each other

they thought it was fate who guided them.


It began with a slow trickle

then the gentle gestures went missing

that trickle grew at a steady pace

the subtle hints had begun dropping.


The curtains of trust that were there

now turning into veils of lies

the intimate moments of love that were

slowly turning into agonizing cries.


The night was still young, they had far to go

the road seemed uneven, those hands were alone

the terrors in the trust that were freshly sowed

had begun to take shape, they had started to grow.


Further and further apart they grew

till there was nothing but silence

further and further apart they walked

till there was nothing more than just night's presence.


The story comes to an end at last

with each moment bearing the hard truth

the hardest part was accepting the fact

the trickle of time that had erased their youth.
The lights were artificial

the room was yet alive

it was cold, though the window was closed

the wind blowing outside mercilessly cried.



His memories lay garbled

as for misery, there was none

he had no company for a long time

and with despair he was done.



The familiarity of others had worn off

the extrovert had died along the way

his conscience seemed to fade and fade

till it was just a stream in his wake.



Running away from what he didn't know

laying waste, everything left was broke

it caught up to him, it was so slow

he found a friend in that haze of smoke.



Days started to pass by ever so fast

the window remained closed for good

the wind beat down at it every night

unhampered by it all, he stood.



Looking around in that pale light

the warmth had left him a long time ago

smiling at his own ****** plight

his friendship with loneliness began to grow.



Deeper and deeper he went into it

till there was nothing, not even light

he had burned his cigarette, blown smoke in the air

he battled with life and had won that fight.
It can be a soft touch on the arm
A strong, commanding smell of perfume
Eyes to surely bloom
Something so beautiful
Hoping the feeling is mutual
I take it slow
The chemistry has to be there
There's so many factors to share
It's going to be awhile before I'll agree to seeing you bare
Not because I don't find you attractive
But because I don't want to disappoint you
Hurt you or disrespect you
If I'm going to share myself with you
It's because I think you're who I love
And not just a body up above
Me giving something I don't deserve
Because I lied
I'm not that type of guy
But that tempting touch
And the questions on what I like
Are flattering
But be cognizant to take it slow and let it flow
There's not much that's worse than forced relationships
A man has to be fully sure
Before he gives her the allure
That plays in her head when she seems me lure
Myself into her vision
We do not burn books in America
We just ignore them, for we light our nights
And burn away our individual souls
Upon an altar green, clean plastic grass

Come together as one unto the lights
The concept of the tablets now writ large
An electronic scoreboard – and if we’re good
We’ll see our snaggly grins all ten feet tall

Eighty-thousand dollars of education
Beaming civilization six nights each year
Reactionarydrivel.blogspot.com – it’s not really reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.
Just cruising through the endless sunny days
Along a rainforest river lingering
Hatless, shirtless, catching some serious rays
Listening to the national radio

A practical internship in cultural studies
Interacting with the authentic locals
And sampling their authentic cuisines
And learning so much from authentic them

The authentic locals had much to teach us,
And they did -  during our gap year in Viet-Nam
Reactionarydrivel.blogspot.com – it’s not really reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.
We are not permitted to choose the frame of our destiny.
But what we put into it is ours.
-Dag Hammarskjold

1. God made you; you can never be replaced
2. God made you for some purpose – live to find it
3. Someone is blessed each day in knowing you
4. You must live so that others may live
5. Someone desperately needs your kindness right now
6. You haven’t yet written your book, your story, your song
7. When you offer up your suffering, you help others
8. Children running barefoot through the flowers of spring
9. Children running barefoot through the leaves of autumn
10. Dachshund puppies. And leaves. And flowers. And children
11. Coffee and a talk with a good friend
12. Breakfast and the Sunday morning funnies
13. That empty pew God has saved just for you
from COFFEE AND A DEAD ALLIGATOR TO GO, 2017
Well, yes, there are wings, right wings and left wings -
If a bird is missing a wing, right or left
It cannot fly, it cannot lift away
From the cat-haunted lawn, and so is eaten

There are water-wings, and buffalo wings
(Although buffalo don’t really have wings)
And in the cafeteria chicken-ring-things
And other metaphors that just won’t fly

But you and I, we both belong to God
And not to a wing (that would be quite odd)
Reactionarydrivel.blogspot.com – it’s not really reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.
A proper English Communist, I say,
Should drink only that tea called Comrade Grey
Reactionarydrivel.blogspot.com – it’s not really reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.
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