You think spam is your ally? But you merely adopted spam. I was born in it, moulded by it. I didn't see a proper post until I was already a man, by then it was nothing to me but heresy.
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The wise man understands the difference between desire, dream and greed.
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I henceforth declare Mondays haraam.
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Your faith is an O.S. Ramadan is the yearly service pack. Update yourself.
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I love Mondays... and blasphemy.
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If you set out to right every wrong, somewhere along the line, your actions will be deemed wrong.
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They all say that's the way it should be. But life doesn't give a shit about your "should bes".
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Everywhere I went
Nobody could ever hear
This soul's beseeching lament
For a life that it could steer
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Suffocated by this phobia, ever threatening my utopia, I feel it... this nostalgia.
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A sliver of silver and everything's over.
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Neither here nor there, I hang around in the middle of nowhere looking out for that little somewhere where I can say life is fair.
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Today we are serving happiness with a pinch of euphoria and a sprinkling of LOLs.
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The Ambitious, the Vicious & the Oblivious without the Wuss.
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You haven't shed enough tears or blood to arrive at the truth of the Bloody Road
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Fervent passion smolders, setting aflame the darkest of waters.
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Wishful thoughts and a mournful heart, shall maketh thee fall apart.
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Un soleil qui brille de tous ses feux, dans ce ciel si bleu, au delà duquel repose les Dieux. Telle est cette vue resplendissante qui s'étale devant mes yeux.
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The path to freedom is chaos. And it is carnage that engenders chaos.
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Bring on the hardship. It is preferred in this path of carnage.
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People don't like those with scars.
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From within, we sin.
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Pissing off the one who pissed you off might result in a urine flood.
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Sometimes, when I watch the world, I believe their hearts have dried up
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Je trouve la plénitude de ma solitude même parmi une multitude.
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My master holding the strings, inflicting abuse. A muse, a fairy with clipped wings.
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"And when the infidels who claim to never walk alone are slain, pity them, make fun of them, and post pics of their real status on facebook." - Book of Mancunia [21:22]
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"Verily, the Theatre of Dreams shall be tainted with the blood of those who claim they never walk alone." - Book of Mancunia [21:21]
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Hibernation precedes the epinephrine injection that will set everything back in motion and lead to way to salvation even though there is no hope for redemption but we strive on and set free our imagination that blooms together with our passion on the border of obsession yet not so much an attraction for it is more of a delusion...
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A pill, an injection and an IV. Worthless without a will, for this affliction is my own damnation, the fall of me.
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Mes mains ont parcouru ton corps et même ton âme, mais j'ne veux plus être ton illustre quidam, vois-tu donc pas mon coeur en flammes? Non c'est pas un mélodrame, juste mon drame que je proclame.
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A heartache is better than a heartbreak.
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"He's like the cheering charm taught by Flitwick
always leaving a smile on my lips so quick
My poem seems crap in front of his,
oh yes people, u'r right, it doesnt rhyme like Zi's"
{written by N!5H}
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"Nishaat Sayeda Begum
As bubbly and jiggly as chewing gum
Her candid nature
And confident swagger
Makes all those poor men wonder
"Why aren't more of these made, Nature?"
What they hardly see is her true treasure
That light she emits, her Faith shining through
Hers was that kind of a virtue
Yes, I could write more about you
But let's stop here for today,
For it's fajr time, and I gotta pray."
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Seeing death upon my sleeve, my soul left to grieve.
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This grotesque play is too cliché, damned be the game of hearts being broken or stolen away.
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Bestowed with a limitless imagination to make up for what he is not and a sense of humour to console him for what he is.
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I realised I was hollow, as I walked through that meadow covered in snow... alone, devoid of my own shadow and left as prey for the crow. Along came that doe with a heavenly glow, getting me mellow, taking away my sorrow. I found her... my halo.
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What is that charred mass of black dust, which resides in the left side of my chest?
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In the dark corridors of my soul, a monster dozes in its hole.
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I will never truly be dead, for my home is your head.
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Cherche belle demoiselle exceptionelle telle que Catrinel qui fait pas dans la dentelle, est au top de l'échelle sensuelle, et qui adore l'humour polichinelle pour amour sempiternel.
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As the wind blows, so this heart goes. Inspiration overflows yet the dew remains unsettled on that rose.
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The entrails of life on my plate, all those things I hate...
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A pint of lead in your head, and you'll go on your stead to that which you dread.
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Poetry was defined when Poe sat under a tree and started writing.
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When the Eye of the sky turns red, only I will remain unbroken. For I am the only Forsaken. And upon my grave, no tears shall be shed. Amen.
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The mind is darkest when the body seeks rest... Haunted, I lie here. For you have no peer.
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You will agree, this is not poetry. Just something rather shitty. Yes, blame me, for I am free. Some might label it exercising the mind. Me? I dunno, I'm looking to unwind. I have nothing else to do. No, I'm not thinking about you. Speck of dust. Object of lust. Like the rest, you're just leftover rust. Believe in the previous, you must.
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When rationale and ritual get along... one of 'em's gotta be lying.
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I see them bloom, the flowers of death. Of life I shall be bereft, for they are my doom.
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Add me another layer, so nothing will waver. Bring out that which'll make them shiver. Let them know that blood will flow this Winter.
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I speak the language of the sky, for Dawn is what I love and cherish. And I pray no Dusk ever comes, for then I'll perish...
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What you do not realise, is that we are Horcruxes of each other's.
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Hearts that depend, their beats will end...
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If you don't succeed at the first try, call it version 1.0
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In death atleast, may you be at peace. Six feet under, regardless, in my soul forever.
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The void is comforting, loneliness bringer of solace. "Another soul out of grace.", Death thought, smirking. To hell, as the scythe fell.
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Woos the blues, beds the reds, and leans on the greens.
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Couch potatoes can't fry. They do let off steam though.
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They say we are forsaken
But we have not yet fallen
Our hearts have been broken
And our souls torn by the Raven
But in Death, we shall ascend
To where the winged reside
And there, our time, we shall bide
Away from Lucifer's plight
Where the flames of his spite burn bright
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Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
I find the above quite retarded
And if you don't, you are too
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The realm of your imagination is the only limitless place.
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No planes fly tomorrow. It's May Day. (1st of May quote)
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