Wednesday, October 29, 2008

Where Do Birds Go To Die?

Do you believe in magic?
Sometimes it is like the dark of the night
and sometimes the bright of the day;
a mystery of the heart
and the wonder of the world.
Beyond and liberated at the expanse of the skies
and the volume of the sea,
somewhere between the hour and a moment...
someplace peaceful and as tranquil as an embrace.
It is a time for truth and what it believes in.
On the wings of a bird that takes flight
from ground to the utmost limits of its flap.
And when it hovers at the command of the wind
looking back at the minute particles below
it's majestic vision, such pride, such grace.
Everything at the whiff of a breath,
the birds rule the space:
vast, enormous, infinite.
Land and sea coalesce in matrimony
and all its people unite as one
and countries are nonexistent
just earth.
Where do birds go to die?
In the back street,
the dark lane
in garbage cans,
anywhere sorry,
and anywhere there's land.
Where do birds go to die?
Just like us...
in the heart
where it all began
Tell me...
where do they die?

If I Love You...

If I love you darling...
I’ll love you
till the cows come home,
till the bees live alone,
till the fish stop swimming
and the birds start feeding
on leaves & twigs & roots.
Till the elephants easily forget
& the zebras lose their stripes
& not a sound from the bats
that’s how much I love you,
till moths don’t get attracted to light.
Even when the sun sets
in the east
even when the world
has no need for peace.
I will love you still
with my whole being,
even when life has left us
with nothing more to dream.
I will still love you
because I do,
For love is always alive
when you know its true.

Saturday, October 25, 2008

Whatever You Do

Whatever you do
you do in moderation.
Whatever you want to achieve
you do it constantly.
Whatever you can do without
do lesser and lesser.
Whatever you imagine,
think of the best.
Whatever you dream
start by envisioning.
Whatever you have
make matters of it.
Whatever you don't,
do you really need it?
Whatever the time,
it's never too late.
Whatever you believe,
better love than hate.

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

Don’t love me because

Don’t love me
because
I can take care of you
when you grow old.
Don’t love me
because
we have a lot in common
or we can keep
each other company.
Don’t love me
because
we are compatible
in the eyes of other people
who says
we make
a lovely couple.
Love me,
because,
despite all my
drawbacks and flaws
you still want
to be with me
for all that I am.
Don’t love me
because
I am good to you
or I complete you
or that I make you laugh
and I make you happy.
Don’t love me
because
I am the only one who
understands you
or that I don’t judge you.
Love me
because
you want to go through
this short life of ours together
experiencing the worst
and the best
and yet
you want to hold on
to everything we believe in,
have faith in the things
that make us who we are
and willing to stake our lives on them.
Don’t love me
because
you like the way I smell
or the way I do things
or how I get along
with your friends.
Don’t love me
because
you like looking at me
and cuddle up with me
when you feel like my friend.
But if you truly love me,
then I am already
all of that to you
and you are already
all of that to me.

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

Three Shillings and Much Much More

He crouches at the square,
in a corner,
bobbing at knee level,
in the belligerent confusion -
of walks, of talks...
a renegade in our world,
intimidated by the loquacious machines,
his cilia twitches,
he breaks into a smile,
in the dark - of his darkness,
capturing only
the chimes of three shillings,
dancing on his dutiful tray,
just for today.

When will it ever stop? The thought of poverty feels like a foreign being, something alien to this world. How can there be abundance on one side of the continent opposing to the other? How can food be scarce and water is nonexistent and yet the rest of us all overwhelmed by them.

People, lots of people, are waking up to the idea that we are all connected whether we like it or not. To be able to share, like what we are doing right now through the internet, it gives us all a sense of hope and belonging to a place called earth where nothing and no one should be oppressed by any form of discrimination. The voice of the unknown and invisible cannot be ignored anymore. We are the voice now.

Elimination is just a fancy word to rile up for support. It is where we begin by being generous that will make the real difference. To be able to disrobe the identity 'mine' is the best step forward to make poverty history. By not placing value on inanimate objects will give us more power and faith over the truth. Because ultimately we don't own anything that we so eagerly claim. Not even the place we call earth.

Poverty is felt only when we take possession of things and people, when we separate what is ours and what is theirs, what language we speak and what religious paths we seek. Once we shed this illusion that we have donned ourselves with, impoverishment will be a thing of the past.

But it must begin with you.

Monday, October 13, 2008

To the Boys of Nowhere

Is this journey worth taking?
Sometimes you ask yourself.
Is the light ought to be shining,
bright enough to take you there?
To leave you in the desert:
barren, dry and full of hate.
They then beat the song out of you
until you hear their human rage!

When you were born,
you were an absolutely treasure.
But when you started out living
you find no truth in all the liars.
When they drill your mind with pulp religion,
strap you down on the stakes of redemption.
You try to turn around
and stand on up,
they shoot you down again
and tell you to shut up.

Is there hope for someone like you?
When the hope they give is confusion,
they show you what magic they do
with their gods of love and compassion.

How could anyone who flogs you
say they love you, believe you,
because they know what's good for you?
But their mouths keep chanting litanies,
praying for all that have died.
They peel away your dignity,
piece by piece they put it out to dry.
When they twist up all your sanity,
they just tell you not to cry.

What’s this madness of divinity?
In the counter movements where they perch.
Tell me to believe in your God,
and I’ll ask you where to search.
I know there is a greater source
than the minuscule things that we are...
To the boys of nowhere
How do you keep your souls?
the people who claim to be true followers,
are the ones who think they own this world ...

The Lonely Cold

If I was a lonely cold
I would be
cold as the morning,
beautiful like
the icicles in the sun.
Attractive,
glistening like
silver sparkles on water,
but icy to a chill.
I would freeze everyone
silently, without a word.
I would leave everything
dry and stale,
hard and raw.

I would chase everyone away,
and keep them hidden
in their faux warmth.
I would be wintry
in my strangeness
like a beast.
I would bite
I would gnaw into you.
Ready to snap
your bleak moments
into two.

If I was a lonely cold,
I would be like a jaded soul.
I would walk upon
the nature's trail
and shed my bitter coat.
I would sleep in constant fever
and I would wake in steadfast cold.
But I would still
be a numbing frost,
And no one can melt
the ice of me.

Wednesday, October 8, 2008

Blog Action Day

The Rain Watchers

I stroll along
the roads of disconsolation
I wonder everywhere ...
to find the sun
to search for the
meaning of being whole, being one.
Yet, the only things I see
are the people that stroll with me
looking for the stars
or nothing rather.
Here I am,
I, the rain watcher.

I wait in the shelter
to let the storm pass.
But I see,
only moving clouds
colliding,
breaking into water.
Some, they hide with me.
Some, they just don't bother.
There I stand;
I, the rain watcher.

We walk aimlessly,
when the skies turn green.
At the moment
when it shall regurgitate.
Just as we do,
every now and then,
with what little we have,
with so much more unappreciated.
How we fall
like the consequence of the sky.
Drizzling, showering, pouring,
in sprinkles and in batches,
everywhere we go.
We are the rain watchers.

Sometimes

Sometimes you’ve got to take some drugs
to keep away the pain,
Sometimes when you’ve taken a little too much
things will never be the same.
Sometimes you’ve got to cut a little edge
and take what life can offer.
Sometimes when you slice off just too much
you’ll know what it is to suffer.

Sometimes we need to fall
to feel the cuts and bruises on our skin
Sometimes we need to run
to wound our soles and calves and shins.
Sometimes we have to take a break
and leave the world behind.
Sometimes love is all it takes
to change the water into wine.

Sometimes you get so tired
of trying everyday,
Sometimes you feel like giving up
and simply lose your way.
Sometimes you want all things to end
so you can get out of the hell.
Sometimes it's not as hard as it seems
you've only got to be yourself.

Sometimes you wonder about the world
to know where you will fit.
Sometimes you come so close to madness
you think that's finally it.
Sometimes you lay alone in bed
while the world parties on.
Sometimes you know that inner smile
is all you need to carry on.

The Meaning Of It All

leaves are meant to fall
flowers are meant to wither
time is meant to pass
and love is meant to be discovered.
life is meant to live
minds are meant to imagine
kindness is meant to share
and ideas are meant to be there.
some things are meant to bring joy
some news are meant to bring sorrow
if tears are meant to cry
all men are meant to die.

Friday, October 3, 2008

The Circle Game

It just goes on like an endless Ferris wheel,
a carousel or the windmill
and it never stops. It doesn't stop.
The life of a dreary soldier
who has lost the fight
for his own existence.
The life of a victim
who has been ravaged
by the terrifying nightmare of death.
The wayward child
who has lost his way
to the world's end
and run out of places to go.
The life of the glamour and glitz
that swirls like the city smog
and disperses in thin air
of its despair.
The life of those in search,
looking for something
that isn't there.
Nothing satisfies, nothing feels right.
The spin of the hurricane
and the turn of the whirlpool,
the revolving door
and spiraling stairway.
It goes round and round
like the pirouette of a dance,
the gyration of the body
but when does it stop
its whirligig motion.
When will it stop?
Only when there’s too much to take?
Only when it’s too late?