Life's Little Lamentation

He is not what he was and he laments he thinks he conforms yet he dies He is rigid and lifeless and he laments he thinks he knows yet he denies He is not what he was and he laments he is shackled and bound yet he abides He is not what he was and he laments his inability to sing and his relentless demise. He is not;- now he attempts to be what he was but I can tell you and he will lament the truth.

The water clears my blood with murky diseases into which my mind swims and confiscates my lethargy What is with my world of knowledge? Is it bound by injustice? Could I survive by hoping or by external pleading? There is somewhere I know a place we all call home that is a place where murky waters are for pigs I dream suffocating dreams the rough call of silence greet my wake up to a nightmare another escapes to a brand new day What is more important than life? the bravery of revelation, now cries freedom, shackled by one country's religion

i am insecure as mistakable as grey colored stones i stand alone now on a lonesome peak i have conquered half the world and isolation have me thrilled i am insecure and i shall remain so for i dissect the truth and lies are all i am left.

I was once long to see a fair maiden in she my heart abides every single minutes are a precious to check of her constrains She will sing her lovely duet songs alone, in her lovely house every time I glances at her my heart does a goldfish leap! I was once long to be with she when she cries, it is my crisis near the time when she throw up yesterday's salad and steak I was once long seen a fair maiden in my heart her features impress she folds my heart into a heart It looks better that way, she says.

Has she a summer sun long shield thee? suns doth concern a higher helm of healing heed not the silver sparkling half-true accessories nor the bright burning seas of golden blight neccessary and forlorn fields of fine false feathers mourn the cold chilling death of one true whither a forgotten a nether world knows no greed for suns doth concern a host of greater needs not the unwavering union of undulating usurpations nor the shrill shimmering cry of man-folk's delegations enlightening eden's best kept beasts and foolish deeds empowering her wish with enterprising self belief p/s - i want to do something like the chun sonnet style, but anything beyond the basic is apparently too much for me to handle. Can't seem to make the last two lines tab out.

the hour stood but few moving molecules the feeble footsteps pattering incessantly the songs whined the notes of ridicules the machine chattered profusedly the hour crawled and stood alternately the feeble footsteps had since left the heart floundered restlessly the songs toiled on with lyrics theft-ed the hour no longer stood but crawled the lights never flickered as wished the drones were out and birds chirped the curling lips' muscles mostly twitched the hour was about to reach an effing end the singing stopped before that serene end the mutterings were long since un-uttered the hour It stood and died;- It chimed

The more I give it a thought sometimes, the more I hesitate. the more it becomes naturally dispensable and I are forced to dispose of it. sometimes it is just better to sit back, and hope everything in life works the same way as how things work in arcades - where a punch of a button "up there" means A, and a punch elsewhere means B. There is nothing better and more enjoyable sometimes to feel the exhilarating feeling of rushing random posts, when the boss is firing away at my back, my colleagues typing away, and my mug is never filled. And long pauses in between where I need to make a supersonic tab-out when she comes around to check and tab-in again Only the thoughts of the person I love accompany me, hold me through all the nonsense, and when I finally make it to the end of the day, I thank God that tomorrow holds the exact same thing for me. How lovely is life indeed. I am not even allowed a moment's thought in typing this for even if it's just once, they think you...

Tears fall down without meaning but each of them is deafening to my own ears reminds me of our years It means nothing to say  anything we had not said but to actually regret them sometimes your heart does wrench Tears fall down without meaning and each one of them carries  to each dear memory which endears her to me It means a lot to move on anytime we say we would but to actually break the fall sometimes we need to conquer the wall

Each time you carve a line across the throbbing tenderness it seems to mark a cross signifying something lost. And when you hear them scream thousands of them all at once it seems you just wake from a dream when by the redness the tips gleam. Each time you try to carve or dig deep into your hide it seems you try hard to starve those whom you faithfully abide. And when you hear the loudness and measure the goodness of their voices you think no more but of rejoices;- then Each time you shall peel away your sadness by the layers and replace them with misery when you wrestle with humanity.

Kevin is back online.

Kevin is dead, so this blog is dead until he is ressurrected.

Move my hands, please toil across the table and reach for that damned pen should the hill of books finally enable. Write my pen, the damned pen's jammed and reach for another damned pen across the table my hands travel. Grab that pen, move my hands, the cylindrical comedian laughs and how my mood instantly cuffed. Throw the pen, a new one he lends, and suffer I not the discriminal procedure of infernal codes hell-sent. Please my hands, not that damned pen, and suffer my heart the squalor of but the hundred thousand lifetime's rants.

The fine morning sun! Tempts sleepless grass around my legs to cling onto my skin and adorn which with pearls of dawn's dew All around me the world sleeps as I try to find peace in a peaceful world and laugh at those who try too hard in a lesser one The fine morning sun! Climbs up the bright blue sky Glares at my warming hair; they stand a conclave pride to be counted I wrap my hands around you tips of my fingers caressing every crevice and smell I do of your kept and unchecked fragrance The fine morning sun! It is a little too fine but for the wind he a cheeky fellow and he my only need satisfied As I continue to keep you company you pour your heart out to me and I hear every word you speak urges me to stop and think Alas, the fine morning sun no more! the wind stops satisfying dews denied existence till tomorrow but still I find you in my hands lying I rejoice at the time so still and yet that moment she approaches envious of our loving embrace she seeks to destroy The nature...

There is something I want you to know about how I feel but I am afraid to tell about things I should keep still And amidst the struggle and the pain about how you feel I am desperate to know just how you cope with my heart being milled I want to know about how both of us feel but just a moment later if I felt less of you I shall again feel There is something I want to know about how you feel and it is not just the nonchalant one but very much about me still. I am selfish and ignorant and crazy and a foolish fool who thinks he feels but all that for just one daisy who ought not grown a glimpse on his field And if ever I had the chance to tell of how I feel ; I am sure of the answer, yes - honoring which my heart breaks at pressure

Sometimes I can be with the one I want it seems easier to be with her than to be with someone you most want but can't. Sometimes I cannot be with the one it seems easier to fall back and let many others come and you think you are with the one. Sometimes I think it's wrong to see someone it seems seeing too much will make you think less of someone. Sometimes I wish everything has just one meaning but it seems even that in itself bears a thousand different outcomes.

I hate the fucking line, it says to me "stop hating me" but i say "fuck off" I type to kill I hate it it so bloody dumb it so feel not good when u DC I hate the fucking line, if u read this well it done well when i dont DC I still hate it, I wish I connect at extreme speed extreme stability ah, fuc

The feelings conjured, brew in a cauldron of sadness and stirred with hatred, now resided in me. The feelings threatened, ripped my poor soul and skewered my heart, to decimate my consciousness. The feelings felt, forged by a certain mark of the despised onto the despicable, too surreal to be taken seriously. But the feelings came, and stayed too long.

People who are rich can afford their sons riches and poor people like us get poorer. The question is, do we poor people want to be rich or stay in rags and contented - an idiot in love with love? The truth is, do the rich want out of riches and taste the idiocy of a fool's golden envy? Alas, people who are rich cannot be poor but the poor can be them someday. The fact remains, poor people have too much common sense, love and justice to see riches Likewise the rich have too much money, power and knowledge to want to beg.

Should smiling incure thy wrath so badly would I want to hear the voice the calming thunderous one. Should smiling beseech thee to axe my heart so gladly would I seek that which is not mine. Should smiling incure thy wrath so lovely would I want that voice to be;- pierce my soul and from yours a-part.

I saw her and she ran She was fast and she knew as though speeding was not enough she planned for a mass exodus She planned for her little escapade some junks everyone thought should become junks to remember but the deal was she had to run Now she ran off with her many junks but a couple of jewelleries I kept for myself she said, "Look Forward you fool!" I saw another one ran to me she said, "Open that Door and let me in!" I said, "Come In" - but not before you dust your feet and don't leave the dust of the old she on my sheet.