FRUSTRATION.

It saps the thoughts from purpose,

It stifles the spirit from comfort,

It gratifies tension with irrational

feeling,

It drives the will into impatience.

Irritation is the prime deposit,

It makes one grasp at a force, to 

speed up rewards of motivation,  

It brings, melancholy nervous energy

for aims unchased.

The clarity embraced is in its 

achievement to stagnate,

It succeeds in instigating the success of 

making unforgettable and regrettable 

mistakes!

A SHORT ENCOUNTER.

A quiet within a storm,

To make the most of a

chance before it's gone,

A situation, precious in its norm,

But lasting only for a not enough more.

Relating to a sensitive view, 

A common fact that in tranquil's mood,

Comes a whirlpool of a social soothe,

Essential for an inward, emotional bloom.

While pressure sensitive busting at the seams

in world crisis full steam ahead, news brings,

The option of wisdom ceases to breathe, 

At times in the presence of conventional need

wisdom gasps for light to be seen.

A quiet within a storm,

In the remotest place far from the madding swarm,

of gurgling strain,to meet the pressures that hold 

again and again.

The joyful reliance of quiet's domain,

To catch serenity in its naked state,

That's worth the time of calm to wait!

 

    

THESE DAYS.

Is there a solution

To the mending of the ozone?

Is there a reason found

To radical climate change

Over the globe?

Is there a solution

To the ever spiraling eco cyclone,

Problems, like the deforestation in the

Amazon basin or the extinction of bees 

breaking chains of cycles known.

Are these days 

The knell of all life's journey home.

Is there a solution

To stop terror and be free?

Is there a way to stop 

The irreversible ghost of nuclear tapestry?

Is there a concept connecting, what appears 

As an insoluble, troubled climate of world 

affairs with sacred spirituality?

Is it gone, reverence for life, the pursuit to look 

after this world, to be happy?

Are these days, paving the ways to inevitability?

Technology, the harbinger of major change and

fast forward progression, will it enlighten and 

bring in a glorious age housing deep sensibility?

Are these day's signs set in stone that eventually 

shall set man, good, bad and indifferent, free?

Only time knows!

LEVELS.

Wisdom is granted to one,

One cannot earn it.

Love does not impose itself,

But one would be a fool to

Ignore it.

Knowledge is the fruit of Angels,

So learn wisely and adorn it.

And what we have and all 

What we confirm is here,

So search, have and enjoy it. 

THE TRIALS OF HARMONY.

Let me roam carefree

In thoughts open space,

Let me sight the knowledge

That's for me to taste,

Let me do the things

That's for me to chase,

So I can be in harmony 

With you.

Let me ride those chances

to make ends meet,

Let me reach true facts

To secure our needs to

Goals free,

Let me heed the way

To affinity,

So I can share myself 

With you.

The enchantment of it all

Is the work towards giving,

The message is in its commitment

To fulfill what is missing,

The rewarding pains to joy

Bring boundless pleasure

That stipulates a mention,

To spark sound intention,

For flawless ploys.

Let me touch upon

life's unselfish grounds,

Let me talk in ways

That bring trouble-free and 

Stress-less sounds,

Let me tread the pathway

Without pressure etched in my brow,

So I can be at one with you.

  

ONE OF THOSE MOMENTS.

Relaxing in the tracks 

Of comfort.

The insatiable desire to 

Be by the fire,

Self indulgence into its 

Red light,

Stimulating the present

With gentle thoughts,

Not to be disillusioned

With outside forces

Except the auras in the context

To which peace is felt,

Added attractions 

To the misty warmth,

Part ownership welcomed by

One who cares,

Saving grace for moments 

Impaired.

SPECIAL TIMES.

I may not say it often,

Yet I'm filled with 

Appreciation,

Excuses can set 

False thoughts in motion,

So I wait, 

To brave expressing my 

Sentiments.

Emphatic is passion

Sometimes,

I want to shower you with

Praise, as if tomorrow

Has surely died,

Constantly I'm inclined, 

To tell of joy that won't be 

Shoved and pushed aside.

But I fall short; 

Without giving a thought

To flexing my pride,

And so I decline, 

Reserved in coming forward to say 

'I Love You,' At those special times. 

  

SPLENDOUR.

Do I deserve you.

For you've given

The greatest of all

Splendour,

Your love without

wanting anything else, 

But myself,

Without the frills,

Without labels,

Without the glamorous

Trappings of the 

Material world,

Without impressions

That achievements,

Prestigious prizes confer,

Without status, power 

Recognition, or those

Prosperous concerns,

That resumes gauge   

For solutions of worth.

Without all these, you've given

Without the rod coming first,

So natural your disposition, 

The Splendour of life's mirth.

 

TRAIN SENSE.

The rhythmic arrival of the train

The impatience fulfilled

By the opening of the doors;

The complex walk of persecution

To the favourite seat.

The inspection given for what is worn

To conclude how you are by the people opposite;

The pretence not to notice,

And to take a look at the map

Above the window.

Impatience sets in for brief seconds;

Along way to go

The maps reckoning;

The train's on its way.

Cigarette ends decorate the floor;

A tramp's free ride

Living it high on a bottle of wine;

Singing a drunks lullaby.

Long faces dominate;

Young kids write poems and graffiti on the walls

To accentuate their fun:

All classes have their place

In the same space in the carriage.

Looking at each person individually,

Seeing the kind of life they lead.

Destination has come for me

To leave the social abbreviations of the train. 

NEVER ASK WHY.

Never ask, ''Why?,

We are.

Never ask,

''Why we are?''

Why ask?

We are.

We are never!

Ask, ''Why?''

Never ask,

''Why are we?''

''Why are we?''

Never ask.

Why ask?

''Are we?''

Never ask why.

WE ARE!

EVERY MOMENT COUNTS.

A new second, a new minute,

A new hour. A new day,

A new night. A new week,

A new month, a new year.

A new spring, a new summer,

A new autumn, a new winter.

The novelty of the new is never shown,

We live life as if we wear an old overcoat,

Wearing it through until it's time to go,

Taking for granted time, in excess,

Appreciation's accepted for events not met,

Stimulated by the wait for future gains;

The precious seconds go by in vain,

Because we are asleep in our waking state,

Until something jogs the numbing streams,

That keeps us from realizing the importance

Of need, in every ounce of life we breathe,

We ask the time at those times we see.

And a feeling of wasted moments creeps in,

Before we unknowingly continue to sleep back into living.

  

WHAT'S YOURS IS SAFE.

I watch television with you. At times 

When we float into natural quietude,

I experience the depth you consume,

That private place of serenity, Which 

Spills over a tonic of amorous cream,  

Caressing my heart to put me at ease.

Then, a sense of self-consciousness

Breaks the silence, a gentle discussion 

Ensues. Our personalities are back to a 

Familiar state. Back to the room, resume the gait! 

All's in tact! Nothing's let slip for one to lose... 

As the television takes over our vision is glued.

Nervous reactions play? Shutters are down: 

Is this, ones defence guarding sacred ground, 

Hiding deep, unseen love from view?  

Unspoken whispers hurriedly reassure, saying: 

'There was no need to worry, what's

Yours is safe with you.' Still,

You allowed me to touch your beauty,

Yes, I only touched your truth.

YOU COLOUR MY LIFE.

No matter how much control,

I desire to keep, not letting go

Of my quality of self and soul,

Cultural make-up and all I've

Grown to know,

Loves careless air slices deeper

Than the sharpest knife,

Without which, Could I survive?

To keep parts of self from show

Can never suffice 

Because, no matter what,

 You colour my life. 

 

GRATITUDE.

God gave me Sherhimself,

The earth, the whole

Universe around it and within,

The wonders of life,

And eventually the beauty of death.

What could I ever give back in return?

Myself,

My existance,

Being here.

DO I HAVE TO GO.

Do I have to go,

Down Life's dusty road,

To walk the palm of fates hand,

Or, is this my will saying so.

Who chooses what is in store for us?

To be tested by crisis until no more,

Conformed to the way of the master plan;

Reaping all for a prize to last whilst 

Weathering the storms,

And bending your mind below this dusty land,

Shoes tread longing for so long become tired  

And worn.

Making sacrifices for smooth roads,

Traveling for a peaceful heart, comfort of mind

While the wind blows; me like a grain

Of sand to be constantly sown.

SIDE EFFECTS.

Sleep you hours,

In the wake of my storm,

The fiery furnace that towers,

Bends a welcome stifling the sun

Whilst my soul doth mourn.

Like a metronome:

The seconds tick away in silent space,

Caged in the quarries of time 

They cannot escape.

I bear their grudges.

Creeping out beneath the slush and grime,

That thoughts imprint in my mind,

A sloth would have a better time,

And not take upon itself the guilt that lies,

In the convicted seconds and minutes of 

The side effects of insanity's rise.

Sleep you hours, 

In the coldness of my waking sleep,

Because when you wake, joy will be there

To appreciate and to greet.

TOUCH TALK.

Touch talk:

Speaking loud,

Resonance, without a note of sound,

Pitched into vibrant feel tone,

Emotion, affection, compassion and so,

Negative or positive

Touch without touch,

Most of all through the eyes

A synthesized plight; not enough,

Maybe false impressions, maybe not,

Infatuation says, not a lot!

But softly lingers to an abrupt painful end,

Sometimes maturing, if you like playing games,

Touch talk from illusion

Mind at the key,

Mirrors of fantasy

Initiative screams,

Experience has burnt a finger again,

This time listen to what the inner voice says.

Touch talk:

Magnetism, gravitation, charisma, personality,

Touch talk without touching,

But forever talking are we!