Freedom is just a kiss away.
Prison is the kiss that won't let go.
Never ending circles of passion.
Dear I Stand With My Pack,
What an honor to welcome such a fine organization dedicated to the rights and fair treatment of animals across the globe. Your message will come to life in lettrs from across the world, about the joy and journey of the animal condition.
We stand with you! Welcome,
Dear Jimmy Fallon,
Thank you for making late night TV a glorious twirl on a ballroom floor.
She, a sun, heat enlightens you, embraces you with love, facing you, you run away into the clouds.
She, as beautiful as a summer sunset and as deep as cliff, vertigo occurs when you see it is exciting.
She, whose hair of unfolding as light as fiber, is caressing and soft as chamois.
She, tireless warrior of the night want to live with their intensity and getting lost in its truth.
I am writing you today to thank you for everything. You have in a way kept my loved ones close to me like since always. I have always loved sharing things with you and guess what you are a really god secret-keeper too.
You never complained of my mood whether it's happy or sad or you know shitty. You always listened to me whatever I wanted to say and whenever I wanted to say it. And you never complained of getting ink-spots on you whenever I was kind of lingering on thoughts of what to write. I know your favourite ink is Royal Blue and you do enjoy my calligraphy.
I wanted to say something today, though I don't know will it work or not. I am just going to put these words her...
When I say ‘I’m tired’ it means I don’t want to talk about it right now. It means I’m tired of the fight my body is constantly in against itself, I’m tired of being positive, I’m tired of pushing through the pain, I’m tired of never-ending procedures and continuous doctor appointments that tend to only discover new problems. I know everything will be OK and my faith will get me through this, but right now ‘I’m tired’ and don’t have the energy or the will to put that much effort in to finding the good in my situation.”
“‘I’m tired’ is code for: I’ve hit the exhaustion wall/power-off button; I don’t have the energy to explain the systemic overload my body and mind are experiencing; I need to b...
WHAT LIES BENEATH
IF YOU ARE IN SEARCH OF A FAIRY TALE OR SOME SHORT SILLY THING TO READ, I SUGGEST YOU MOVE YOUR EYES ELSE WERE, YOU WILL NOT FIND HERE WHAT YOU SEEK.
Confident am I, in the way that I walk, At peace in the way I live and happy in the way that I help. I'm a little bit larger than most girls, my hair never does sit right. I haven't no job nor no money and my room is untidy much like a dump. I put others before myself and get hurt in this task. Yet, if you ask me I'll look up and smile.
"I'm fine, I'm okay. Nothing is wrong, I'm strong and I'm brave I can face it all", but as soon as you pass and leave me alone, my legs start to shake and my tears start to roll. It's hard s...
Running away doesn't mean you are free; it won't give you freedom, but it will prove that you were too coward to face the situations.
Dear Walt Disney,
Thank you for all the inspired stories that became movies and characters for a lifetime. The highest compliment I ever received about lettrs was, "it's a mobile network Disney himself would have imagined."
It was an honor to meet your team at Disney Studios in Burbank this week. You were an original!
It's hard to trust every
word. Keep your eyes open,
trust your intuition,
words are weak but
behavior is strong.
The Moonlight Kiss.
As she leaned to kiss me on the lips that dark winter night, i couldn't help but to feel a sense of absolute love for this woman. Something compelled me to feel a magnificent appreciation and gratitude to be in the presence of such soul.
We had only been dating for four months, and we hadn't felt such spark until that winter night. I admit, the setting wasn't the most beautiful, nor it was the most romantic. But as she leaned to kiss me, something moved deep inside me that changed the course of things.
The kiss ended and i stood there for a few seconds, which really felt like hours, admiring her beauty as the moonlight hit her just the right way. I can remember saying...
Both of them came back home wearing white kurtas , rubbed colours on each others face happily ; no one could guess that one of them came back from temple and the other from masjid. As the religion difference never reached their home.
You are spewing Bible verses
Like they are self righteous bombs.
Allowing some convoluted truth to
Ricochet off of my blood soaked choir robe, like it is the only thing more acceptable,
You are chewing theological philosophies on the tip of your tounge,
Reminding me to kneel down when I pray,
Or bend over backwards,
And I have to wonder if this is really all for the sake of my salvation
Or if it simply for the salvation of your ego.
The one that tells you,
If I don't pray the way you do,
If I don't worship the way you want me to
If I don't prophesy and profess
In the language you want me too,
That somehow I have lost my spiritual footing.
When did God become t...
Can't utter a word even if I want,
For me it's not the nightmares that haunt
It's the thought of losing ; not the things,
But the beautiful people as tranquil as spring.
Wandering and searching for people who comfort,
Sincerely an Introvert.
I hear the rustle of brittle leaves
as they sway above the tree tops;
their crunch as they get trodden upon
by small critters that burrow underneath.
I bask in the little light that escapes
through the thick woods.
A single leaf rested on my lap.
I was happy for the company
but only for a while.
The wind snatches as it pleases,
whenever it comes and goes.
Why have you forsaken me?
Conversations with myself as
I sit alone to witness the passing
of the seasons; falling, greening, dying,
living, only to die again.
How long before I, a seeming source of rest
be the one at rest?
Is it too much to ask for company?
A few minutes of touch and comfort?
Take me down then for I have been compla...
My daddy had a cobalt blue six-shooter he took apart and cleaned every weekend when I was a boy. He would disassemble and polish it right there on our dining room table. I'm not sure which my mother loathed more - the fact that he would disturb place settings we never used, or the actual weapon itself.
Sure as clockwork, every Saturday morning I would wake to find him there, cleaning solution and handkerchief at the ready, cup of black coffee within arms reach, cigarette dangling loosely from his lips, and his head tilted back just enough to keep the smoke from getting in his eye, shining up a gun I'm not entirely sure he ever shot.
I was always too afraid to ask. I feared it might be a fo...