“Everyday is a bad day to start a War, there’s always a new baby being born, a someone having the big day at interviews and another getting a ring on their finger. None of these would let you ruin their moment.”
Make peace whenever you can.
-Joseph Kachiliko –
He asked me why I made so much fuss about life, with all the hard work and doing things by the book, when death was a sure thing awaiting every man and Devil in the morrow. And I looked up at him and smiled with a smirk of indignation, at how shallow men’s minds could be, the same men that were willing pay millions to see a movie to its end, even when they could predict the ending, for the value of HOW.
Little woman’s confessions By Joseph_Kachiliko
This morning I recite Zangotse’s poem trimmed affection, a soaking piece for a daring heart.
~Strands of love~
Like Z to A and Z in my name,
Life isn’t an Alphabet,
It takes Re-righting wrongs to realize life needs a meaning.
A purpose it takes, to course our way in a town’s bursting throng.
Priorities right and spirits lifted with the chins he didst mould.
A little more care and addictive here, are the crowd’s potent dose.
A deeming view and sight I lose, while the crowd soaks in sin.
This warm embrace – that wrungs my arms till wrong feels just right.
What’s this I feel? My thoughts unlearned, a panic stirs yet their sighs hold me still.
My content heart with woe I soil, as my hand reaches theirs.
Act along I say and put a show does my heart beckon on.
This glove I fit that bleeds my core is the world’s filthy cage.
Their tastes I serve with empty words for their morphed greedy guts.
I am but a slave yet my longing made me one.
A circus doll in the devil’s arms.
Why it didst take me excess baggage to realize endings beauty I muse.
I finally know my place, the place I belong,
in the creators arms that await my return with love’s aching smile..
Life isn’t easy as an alphabet, and I finally got to my Z.
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Even when life goes on in its full normalcy, I am always aware of a strong force around me, a force stronger than gravity. It pulls me in this wonderful yet empty orbit called virtue.
And within it I find embedded: love, kindness, sacrifice. And even when I swim ashore as I often do, its ripples knock me back into the orbit. #life_in_its_entirety_in purity of heart.
I’ve possessed the head knowledge for quite some time, but am just recently learning/understanding what it means to fully surrender..
You can’t understand a language that you can’t speak, You can’t speak a language that you can’t understand. If you want to get its message, learn it. If you want to offer your critiques understand it. And your world will be simple, with less hassle and trouble.
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If life is an art, I will keep etching and chipping until I have it just right. Even if it costs me my comfort, the cozy tenderness of my pillow. Or indeed my every other taste of pleasure, I will forge out in labour seeking only the joy of living just right. Of marking out my very existence in colour, of becoming a god of my own world. Taking many along the way. Weaklings, ailing and new broods alike. Shielding all under my wing and daring to accept every challenge to realize the bounds of my own strength.
And when the time is come and all strength gone I will meet my creator proud to have lived a life of purpose, and in the moonless nights we will spend nights chatting on how many lives I had birthed and the realms of my knighthood, a Christ in my own making.
~For preoccupation and nurtured endurance are a mark of existence ~
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The questions I never find answers to. Today I share an experience that every man finds, or at least is sure to encounter if so lucky as never experienced yet. :
My world goes murk! A strange darkness I feel, a friendly dark it is.
A feeling against all laws,
Unafraid, my world so still, the best silence I ever had, when did I learn not to fear?
The walls, outlines of looming figures so real. Vivid shadows yet so serene.
They all bring forth memories of my past, or is it the future? For I recall no such part in my past, a moment so confident, so aware of my exteriors. So alive and unafraid, with tonnes of courage twitching my every muscle.
Could they be memories implanted by the hands of magic? A dark spell by the eerie enchantress.
It is! and it must be! For no logic holds account of this.
An old man turned into a child. A curiosity so welling.
Could it be a whole new world suppressed and locked within me?
A sweat breaks between my pits, a whole new life sprouting from within. Of butterflies hatching from my insides.
Growing by the hour, with the approaching steps of the figure that looms in the darkness.
Will my heart contain the next episodes of life? Will the my pulse dampen? Will my heart finally stop its racing when the footsteps come to halt?
Will I be the same when my eyes meet this walker?
A thousand I’d pay for answers to my mystery quest.
Why were we made to feel this way? Creations capable of love.
My mind cannot comprehend.
A kind so fragile,
A dream so possessive, with thrill so unequaled.
Whoever called this love…..
You call bees stupid for doing all the work while flowers just sit lazily? Close your eyes and touch your heart. Then ask yourself if you are smarter. ~# The beauty of a flower negates human caution……
Freshly posted by Golden express