Being able to see beyond living
makes the worldly life less final.
Quest of every single one living
is make more of life till it’s final.
We always know what we want,
we are ever after what we want.
A mountain of desires we crave,
throws us off it’s cliffs in a daze.
We all end with certain nothing,
for we’re and leave with nothing.
So we’re sinners because we sin,
or we are sinners born with sin?
Cruel cruel world we’re living in,
rightly mean in its balancing act.
Life takes us to its heights within
and back down from a very start.
If necessity mothers invention,
desperation murders affection.
Same indulgences which insist
kill same resistance that resist.
Set out looking for the solution.
Found it, we made it a problem.
Unashamedly man’s confusion;
the proud stillbirth at the helm.
Starry skies are ever present,
always available somewhere.
World doesn’t own a present,
it is borrowed from out there.
Past makes new statements
every time it reappears again.
Pieces nature appears to give
it’ll again take back with gain.
Things people do to have their ways
are worse than those done to please.
There’s strangeness in peoples’ ways,
abounding with weirdness as in this.
Shows when they ignore good ways,
step out of their ways into the abyss.
Tell any lie too often, it stays.
Before long you believe it too.
Old falsehood forever replays,
its nature breeds nothing true.
False history are oldest of lies.
Birthed it grows and remains
and never letting go fake ties
to ancient mythological pains.
Nothing under the sun stays hidden,
everything is revealed in its season.
Sometimes you’ve to see one thing
to believe it is actually that thing.
Everything comes in its set time,
in its horrible or not, bad or fine.
Purpose isn’t always an objective;
merely a reason and that’s relative.
When herdsmen became toys,
invested bandits turn cowboys.
This land full of oil and mischief,
nourish chiefs and bred the thief.
We grew up in too much hope,
our expectations one long rope.
What nature had given our land,
we’ve nicely damaged out of hand.
Where from comes all the hate?
Why do all people need to hate?
Maybe there is a horror in us all,
it’s the reason why we must fall.
We are ever with mean streaks
and always it busts and speaks;
calls out from quiet inside calm,
takes away good to some harm.
Words hurt the most like crazy
but I rather have words anyway.
Let happiness tell its own story,
so cruel sadness stays far away.
Folks want all sorts of freedom,
yet most freedom is not pretty.
People only seek some wisdom,
but end quite gullible and petty.
For so very long I struggled with
how parents love any child more.
When I became a parent by right
I’ll know parents now or before
only admire some children less;
but never would say or confess.
Life is not a race
but a fatal chase.
It’s a time led run,
with spells of fun.
Getting through,
ends a long dive.
Dead end is true;
none will survive.
Sight is a gift not a right,
you either see or do not.
Because your very sight,
doesn’t determine a lot.
Perception you have got.
The one gifted beholder,
sees but does not get it.
Then there’s yet another
that gets it but forgets it.
All sight do not all meet.
Simplest things always get you.
They are common, ever around.
Well known and familiar to you.
Weighting less than any pound.
Taken for granted and ignored.
Not dealt with, they will breed.
With stealth that is pressured,
fit into place, chokingly pressed.
Who cares about perfection
Even the moon is not perfect;
full of craters in dusty motion.
The sea is incredibly beautiful,
but salty in rich darky depths;
boundless, rich and distrustful.
Sky is always endlessly infinite,
but often as restless as cloudy;
and universe one endless night.
So everything that is beautiful
is not perfect but it is special,
natural, elegant and bountiful.
Therefore all can be perfected;
everyone can be as special too;
to someone, be seen as gifted.
When seeking perfection ends,
being perfect becomes as free
and easy as being alive intends.
CC: Inspired by a post on Facebook
Memories take us a short way,
we forget more than remember.
Passing time always in the way;
always going back to its sender.
We’re born, we live and we die;
all time really changed nothing.
We are moving on; that’s no lie,
but it is to a past that’s waiting.
Talking less of what to expect
does zero for all expectations.
It’s in the character of respect
to unravel any complications.
People condemn more than not
and wait to watch the good rot.
A dirty mind reveal in its stash
it carries a whole load of trash.
Man needs few things to survive;
very few things keep man alive.
Air, water, food are sustenance,
But also greater is his insistence
to receive, conceive and achieve.
For sure, living is to take and give.
Many times we are not ready,
but still have to get on with it.
Not only those guilty are edgy;
those righteous hardly ever sit.
All want to hear some truth;
know it and also boot its foot.
Same truth differs in its worth.
For when it concerns decision,
desperation needs no reason.
Search to the ends of all alive
and query the losses and strife,
you will find in all won and lost
babies teach patience the most.
Gratitude is seen most in a loss,
in the child’s most adorable fuss.
With surrendering in loving ease,
that is how to find a lasting peace.
Life is a religious exercise
embarked on by the living.
Its daily twists will entice,
with thrills also conniving.
Many things will chase us,
some we just can’t outrun.
True peace overcomes us,
when finally it ends our run.
There once was this cool bloke
who hated all kinds of hospitals,
but loves how cute nurses spoke.
He loathes teachers and journals
but bought books till he got broke.
He loved all beauty but saw none
and wanted peace in tiniest pieces.
Logic in his reasoning all but gone,
damned without loving and kisses,
he saw it as he liked and died alone.
Secret to talking is in listening
and that only comes with time,
with practicing and reasoning.
But to let go is simply emptying;
leaving it all as it is and own up.
For what will be is so happening.
Happiness can be scary.
It always starts off unreal,
like some visiting tiny fairy;
all so marvelous and surreal.
Then you hold it captive,
making the mood your own.
But like prisoners still active,
it strives to escape on its own;
run off, leaving you on your own.
Long before there was any time,
there was Nature, God and People.
All was in one harmony and fine;
life was easy, ordered and simple.
Then people discovered reason
and chased it all over the place.
Reason created time and season;
then all life broke loose in a race.
For long experts have claimed
men are from Mars, just tamed.
Women, from Venus no doubt;
hence their oddity in thought.
Is it even near rational or true,
remotely possible for any two;
being truly male and feminine,
to be like minded and genuine?
If there are levels in Hell
Angel Satan has his Wife.
Demons in the abyss will Tell
Lord Devil to hide for his Life.
If there’s nothing good or bad
then words can’t make you sad
and those depressed are mad.
Shakespeare made Hamlet say
our perception makes our day.
But we all know life is no play.
World isn’t some massive stage;
everyone make their own image.
Good as bad write their own page.
Human words paints a picture,
but these pictures don’t speak.
Drawings might size a measure,
and colourings lay it on so thick
Still all the picture words paint
use simple words for precision.
Richest vocabulary could taint
the most simplest composition.
Everything harmful is also good,
everything good can be bad too.
Much uncertainty spoils a mood;
some lies are incredibly also true.
Working our way through life,
choosing the meat not the knife.
Horrors of chills can inspire us.
Life sets it’s own goals not just us.
Water has a taste;
its very own taste.
It could be tainted,
or get badly soiled.
Oceans are salted,
rivers get polluted.
Lakes reek of rust;
few waters to trust.
Water can be taken
but not forever kept.
Its journey so often
tells the taste it get.
Those strange eyes of death,
does not need to hold breath.
It spots preys with a keeness,
that feeds on willful blindness.
It arrives with rich confidence,
cheering general indifference.
Be they careless or quite wary,
death takes its dues; no worry.
Wake up to the cruelest reality
that folks make their standard.
Everyday has renewed insanity,
no one cares if it’s soft or hard.
Blame is already set in waiting;
perspective is surely you did it.
Guilt shown before the seeing
and world knows who done it.
Hope is a dangerous thing
that keeps all dreams alive.
But there is certainly nothing,
more curative and more alive.
Like crawling mean serpents,
hope attacks your depression
and punches doubts into dents.
Dying hope destroys as poison;
cuts off any reasonable reason.
A warrior’s mind houses horror
and his scars, badges of honor.
Skies are the same everywhere,
with vision following anywhere.
Surely everyone somehow lies
and also depend on likely ties.
Everyone does like something
and as sure, dislikes one thing.
When life takes its final bend,
time tells everything at its end.
Eternity’ll run its long course,
leaving nothing just as before.
You can believe what you wish
but bad news is always heavier.
People ask you to make a wish
and choose what feels happier.
Still good is ever overwhelmed
by the bad already condemned.
Like the heavier are prominent;
lighter is always lost in content.
Home is your nest
and where you rest.
Made to suit you best,
where you’re no guest.
Our dreams help us with reality,
giving us perspective and sanity.
People can make their destinies
as an individual or communities.
Breath of true and honest work
liken footprints in dubious walk.
Any can stick fair boots in mud
or stain righteous hands in blood.
Kings and leaders are chosen
by common ordinary people.
They are lifted in their season,
taken up to be beyond simple.
Alas ordinary folks do forget,
from whence comes the egg,
again every chicken cometh;
such is the walk of every leg.
Simple people make leaders;
ever it is from amongst them.
As such these mirrored rulers
reflect those that made them.
No point in dwelling in the past
when it has moved on from you.
Before any winner, lots are cast
and key decisions come in two.
What is this hurry we are about,
what do we have when it’s out?
For any single turn we can take,
all still dies same way we make.
More honour among thieves
than among these politicians.
Rogues wear heart on sleeves
and rulers tease as comedians.
To think we have only choices,
all based on these tight notices.
It is cruel as picking one reason
to be bedridden or be in a prison.
If anyone tried to live forever
they would have a joyless life;
with iry loneliness everywhere,
like some timeless cutting knife.
Life should be richly bountiful,
not boundless and too plentiful.
Living ought to be just that once;
long enough for a good chance,
to sow seeds in rare difference.
Leave behind a good name,
and die without one shame.
It’ll represents you the best;
give your legacy a good rest.
You’ll liken a good old author;
still alive forever like a shore.
Good memories of your name
always fair and ever the same.
Love is based on choice not need,
hate based on opinion, not greed.
Thoughts’re best spent on a future,
on things that can change for sure.
It is what can be that can be done
what can’t become is all but none.
Wasting on why you are dejected
changes nothing, further rejected.
Honesty isn’t cruel,
it is exact and old.
But all lies are new,
unreal and so bold.
One lie begat more;
creating falsehood,
like a loving whore
in God’s priesthood.
I know a vegetarian Tiger,
it’s called the Ocean Sea.
It’s fearless in its hunger,
its anger is there to see.
It is only tame if it is fed;
only trusted when calm.
Only feeds those it held,
and never raises a palm.
All the rivers run into the ocean
yet these oceans never get full.
Human overwhelming decision
only enables not teach the fool.
Our world dying of it’s choices
making us hungrier as we feed.
We are wiser yet ever novices,
killing every goodness we breed.
Land is in pieces not peace,
when bold young are restless,
and wickedness is all at ease,
when righteousness grows less.
The majority make less noise,
and choked silent by choice.
A visible minority is in riches
and as inaccessably famous
as dreams, jobs and wishes.
Why make of beauty what it is not
or make falsehood the fact it is not?
Why call a name where it isn’t loved
or hate for reasons another is loved?
Why share in the logic for blind faith
then deny love it’s heartbeat or breath?
Why refuse to be forced to behave
but relish in the spoils cruelty gave?
Why make the most common sense,
rot away until it becomes nonsense?
Love is patient and love is kind;
doesn’t envy, it’s one of a kind.
It doesn’t boast, it isn’t proud.
Love does not dishonor others;
it isn’t self-seeking or ever loud.
It isn’t easily angered by others.
Love keeps no record of wrongs.
Love does not delight in any evil,
but rejoices with truthful tongues.
It always ever protects and is civil.
It always trusts and always hopes;
always perseveres, anyhow it goes.
1 Corinthians 13:4-8NIV
https://bible.com/bible/111/1co.13.4-7.NIV
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