by Kailashana on Sun, 2012-11-04 17:18

It's great to have a dauntless heart,
a one that's filled with lots of hopes,
it always gives your life a start,
when overcomes the crucial slopes.

As life sustains a running peril
It's great to have a dauntless heart
to bravely lash its dangers-feral
that is a pretty real art.

This life is quite the biggest mart,
to trade in good and bad forever.
It's great to have a dauntless heart,
and get the best purchases ever.

After a year of ups and downs

Everyone with each other

It's something they look forward to

Together no matter the weather

Children's laughter filling the air

While babies cry over it all

Generations of family

Share traditions that are not small

Mother and Father love it so

Wouldn’t  have any other way

As they look at their children

Together on Christmas day

Father in his rocking chair

With all his sons, their sons too

Remember me like the sun
That rises from the horizon
Like a paint of gold that spills
All over the dark sheet of the night
Like the fleeting clouds
Above a world that is still and unchanging
Remember me like waking from a slumber
Unable to recall a lovely dream
Like once a beautiful house
In time abandoned and forgotten
Remember me like the mist
That bathes the grasses with dew
Like the gust of wind
That blows but never comes back
Like a moving scenery

It would end with me
And I would be fine with it
For up ahead burns something
Not new,
But alive.
And I wait for this fire to burn brighter,
And I hear people talking of the past,
Yet they don’t understand,
They speak of keeping heritage alive
I refuse to live in song and dance.
I prefer to speak in poetry,
The way old Paradise did on that open road.
I prefer to stare the world in the face,
And not say a word.
I crave the silently loud noise of it all.
So yes,
It can end with me

You said
Don't you dare
I composed
I dare

well you and I
are too ferocious a pair

you say don't
I say do,

you must be more positive
like me too

never give in to the machinations of human beings,
fight for your right …

yet when you are wrong,
just admit it

no one knows the real art of living,
only reduce stress
in whatever way you can
also make compassion
your norm

for there is nothing beyond love,
in the life's sweet and short sojourn

The rain-
It cleanses all manner
of things
scouring the route
to redemption and
sorrow

Like tears-
they never fell
when I stood over
your still sullen shape

But now they do

Like torrents
trembling terrible
torments
washing the life
we had clean away

All stains are gone
You are erased
from our life
like lines of
laundered linen

Talk to myself, not much to say.
Radio on, headphones too,
as morning wraps the walls
in candy stripes of light on light.

Weather forecast, where and when.
‘Background briefing’,
news about news,
stitched like a ‘fiver’ to my hat.

Two conversations layer cake.
Breath, a true measure,
says goodbye to that.
‘Tipping the lid’, developing mannerisms...

Specious?... More scandals;
make a gesture, feel the veins,
tense tendons,
like Mime at the anvil, start to work.

needle hanging by its thread
the light of a moon
upon a bed

cups with worry buttons
in its ocean of dust
the bright cascade
of snow
and the broken trusts

sickle smile
cut the mile
a bootheels grind
sharpens an eye

worry hurry come
the eve
where the ghosts
come to sit

and never leave

The engine of his motorbike drones on in sympathy
Killer’s mind is numb, there’s nothing here to see
Hunger strikes his stomach, like a sharpened knife
There has to be some bad-guys here; brighten Killer’s life

Now on the dark horizon, there is a distant light
It flickers, flares and beckons, calling through the night
A campfire in the desert, reflecting chrome and leather
Biker-men and broads, enjoying party weather