Bruce Lee- Ping Pong (Full Version)

A glimpse at whatif...

The silliness of the heart is clouded by unreal hopes, it dreams that it too may feel what’s been made so popular and in high demand.

It knows not that there is always a high price to pay, a price too hefty to reimburse.

It is quick to sink deep in the possibility of the tingling feelings of love…or whatever this thing is called.

Brought back even quicker to the pits of gloom when things return to normal.

Sorry folks…no fairytale here, no happy-ending…moving right along.

Go back to the normal routine of waiting, the norm in waiting has never disappointed.

Now with the slight speckle of hope this silly organ had taken in destroyed…it’s returned to its usual coop and left to lick its wounds.

Serves it right for initiating its own destiny…there is no use blaming the world…when it is the world it longs and lusts for.

Look no more in the eye of man…look no more in the eye of the unsure and hasty.

The future for this heart awaits and it sure has no space for baggage and burden.

Repairs to this organ takes time…precious time that must not be interrupted.

Its offender has offered no mercy and remains unaffected by their deeds dished out.

“Cut them some slack” reason says, “Well just do yourself a favour and forget it all” reality adds.

Etched memories appear far clearer, feelings way stronger are pulling more intensely.

It must be terrible to have to rebuild the cemented plans and ideas of what could be.

It is disheartening waking up to a sloppy morning… and then have possibilty for the day dashed.

Amidst the horrors of old falls and new births my eyes pant for a lush field of hope but none seems available, all the prosperous arenas of expectation have either been used to death or left for the scavengers.

Is there any way of mending the epitome of sensitivity, and to move to a much better place of unity of souls and hearts…glued with the genuineness of what really speaks to the depths of their unseen worlds.

How to do you speak when no ears are listening, when no eyes are willing to find out and discover…

Rather don’t leave any insincerity or issues of mistrust in others’ areas of thought…

Hold high the golden rare personalities they carry and have them stapled onto your train of thoughts.

Leave the minds’ cubicles and hold no grasp to the plans I have, remove your mark from my soul and carry no hold to my future.

Tell your story of destruction and watch in awe as your heart unfolds and there’s a remake of your destiny.

Pictures of him...

I look for him in wrong places.

Craft his face according to pieces of what I admire in others.

I don’t know you, yet I already see you.

I have imagined the wonder of your voice, though I hold no idea of you.

Envy, jealousy consumes my heart, when in sight of those who’ve stolen my painting of love.
What I’ve created falsely as my love story.

Yet I don’t know my love story because it hasn’t been born.

My heart still needs to quieten down and not overplay its role, it hasn’t been called up on stage yet.

I find my mind designing imaginary characters of you, of what you’d say and how you’d say and how you’d act.

It’s become sickening and desperate.

I want none of it, my reality is far from this unclear and unknown fantasy.

I have no control of you yet I feel I already have you.

That shreds my heart because I still feel sad and lonely.

I must get acquainted with myself, forgive myself, give myself love and acknowledge my piece of worth.

I’ve locked my faith neatly in my heart, hope awakens my heart each day.

Anticipating the unknown and waiting with bated breath taints the possibility of fully living.

I want this love others speak of, the real love that’s only understood by those sharing it.

The kind that’s spoken through stolen looks in a crowded room, the kind of love that appreciates the other’s heartbeat.

That kind that holds high the smiles and encouragement shared, without giving it much effort.

An extract from my "Taxi chronicles"

 

I cannot start these chronicles without first introducing this fellow who’s gripped my mind with intense curiosity. This one person is without a doubt an embodiment of meaningful and gripping interest. He stands out from all the other rowdy, controlling drivers around, who are used to yelling naturally and behaving as though they own the ground they walk on. This one fellow carries a generous amount of appeal that lies neatly and perfectly on his face. There are not enough words to sum up the level of fascination I have suddenly developed for him. It is as if he carries deep moving captions about his life, his mannerism is that of a gentle soul...roughened though by the conditions that have become his life. I find myself lost in his space, staring at him as though I were a kid looking up a human size angel. Maybe that is a bit extreme...but it feels so. I could count how many times I’ve landed in his vehicle on one hand...with each of those trips I would get lost in my maze of thoughts about why I find him to be so unique...that of course, is done again with me staring at him.