HOW IT FELT

Wonder Why I love to Reblog her posts, read this!

My Mind mill...

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It’s hardly odd for me to plunge myself
into this awful mood and call it melancholy
I heard one say to his mechanic;
“there’s a tap sound in my car’s engine.
it increases with acceleration”
it irritated him, his car
And I stood and stared, smiled, smirked
And…and…
Uncontrollable tears restrained
How sad!

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S.H.N.K.O – THAT’S MY FRIEND!

He’s a funny / interesting / and a funky guy
He likes to sigh for a long haul and hug his ass off
He doesn’t take much to set him off
Just a word or two will be just enough for him
He might not be the best, but he’s no too bad
And that’s okay cos I call him my friend

He’s a feisty guy who likes to drive in his earthly ride
He’s usually the first to arrive in terms of appearance
He’ll cuss out every hole on the road just to hang out with loyal friendz
You sometimes wonder if he’ll explode or not; most especially
when reckless road users try to mess him up on the road
Despite the years and skills he has acquired driving
He still drives happily though he may look mad / bored / or sad
And that’s okay cos I still see him as my friend

He’s a stubborn guy set in his way
He works real hard and loves to play too
Looks like he has always been fearless all his life
Headstrong enough to face any strife
He’s a solid man who stands his ground
A better friend cannot he found
I could be biased but he’s all I have seen….lol
And that’s okay cos I will always call him my friend

But one thing isn’t okay with me when it comes to this gutsy guy
and that’s cos he’s still not married
Another discussion for another day, he will put it
And till then, I’d prefer to see the world outside;
through his misty glass heart
That way, he’ll remain forever young in my pretty watery eyes
S.H.N.K.O –that’s my friend!

sketch

YOU…II

This is mind blowing!

My Mind mill...

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A little happiness,

A little pain;

that’s all in this

sphere

in which I find

my life,

I think…

Forgetting

you

in a thousand years

is remembering

you

in a day

and if I am

God,

what’s the use

of the memory to forget?

Thousand years

is still in a day

a day is a thousand stills

in a moment

A little happiness,

A little more pain;

that’s all there is in

this sphere which

some call home

But home is death

and death is home

without a

you

and if I am

God

what’s the use

of these forgets

and forget-nots?

                                                                                                                 image: cianellistudios.com

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Write Drunk. Do not Edit

I share in your sentiment.

V. Naa Takia

There are lots of things I need to learn about writing;

How to ctrl my emotions so the words won’t hurt

Where to fit the           gaps    so        I           won’t    choke to death

When to use the full stop so I. Can. Stop. Hurting.

PhotoCredit: www.pinterest.com

Authors Note: A couple of days back, I suffered an almost weird breakdown when I realized how ‘vulnerable’ and (too) ‘revealing’ I was with my writing. Sometimes the thought of putting my whole self out there, in blue ink, makes my blood run cold. I just had to vent, amid the pain and confusion, and I felt so much better after writing this.

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