When you were younger you loved a friend.
You told her,
and lost it all.
Now you’re older and in love again.
You said nothing,
and this love did grow.
You watered it from a distance,
With smiles and the pretence of friendship.
You covered it with lies,
a shoulder to cry on and friendship bracelets.
And this love grew day and night,
till it could hide it no more.
Now you grew the balls to show.
The love you stashed, under white lies like snow.
So to her dorm you go…
Your heart in your mouth and roses in hand to go…
The door flings open for you to see,
your love with another, under the sheets 💔
play on my favourite poem: “A Poison Tree” by William Blake.
Are memories written in stone?
Like ancient writings found in caves.
Do the past stay the same?
like old pictures in a frame.
Then why do the past hurt,
When the photos say “Happy”.
Then why do I want to forget,
all the writing; and words we said….
Happy memories are like finger art,
drawn on sand by the seaside.
One big wave of pain and it changes,
and all get washed away.
Hurtful ones are like pimples,
that never just seem to go away.
The good ones..,
The bad ones…,
I’ll cherish all tonight.
And like a child turning 3 tomorrow,
I’ll forget it all at sunrise.
The end was always with you at the beginning,
Just as the beginning would be at your end.
You were born knowing you’ll die,
with a beating heart, always there to remind you.
You’re full of life, just as much as you are,
still meat and bones.
You’ll walk the earth for months, even years,
till you find a beautiful casket to fall in fully dressed.
Life is everything between both ends.
Your beginning and your end.
So play the game and go your rounds.
Play to win and play for fun.
Think not of the end, but of the now.
The end is assured, but you control the now. …
There are a lot of awesome resources, techniques and articles for helping you debug and get from point A to B in tech already.
This series is only going to contain tips and little hacks that helped me alongside references to articles with more depth and details.
I’ll prefix such articles with (HBP) shamelessly stolen from Harry Potter who found Snape’s copy of Advanced Potion making which contained useful hacks scribbled around different pages to get the spell working perfectly.
Here’s to the faces we may never see.
Cheers to the days that held memories.
Here’s to the pain as we gaze into the past.
And to the emptying bottles filling holes in our hearts.
Cheers to the ones that we loved.
May our paths never cross.
Here’s to the ones that loved us.
May they love again.
Stand still for the west.
As these memories fade with the sunset.
Pour wine on the earth for the empty promises the sun makes daily at the east.
And if by sunrise you catch me lost in thought still.
Hit me on the head; Hard enough.
Hopefully, then all would be forgotten.
I bleed when I’m pricked.
I cry when I sleep.
My teary eyes; leaves wet patches on my sheets.
I drink for the good times.
I drink for the sad times.
A toast to the living;
And those soon to join them.
I grieve when in pain.
I hide when in shame.
I laugh and smile, but cry in the rain.
I’m no different from you.
I’m no better than you.
I go through the same things that life offers to you.
Life is really fair; at treating us unfairly.
Life is really fair; at treating us all fairly.
We walk the same street.
We breathe the same air. …
I rose that morning with my hands brightly coloured.
I looked to the ground and saw my palette; a girl gushing red.
I shouted; I screamed; as I scrambled to the body.
Too little too late and only got on me more red.
Did I do it?
Should I run?
Should I set the house ablaze and let the body burn?
As I made my way to the door,
I hastily painted red the walls and floor.
Anything I touched; a canvas,
And my bloody hands the brush.
But did I do it?
Why did I run?
Do dead girls grant forgiveness to those who did them wrong? …
If luck be a lady,
Many wouldn’t know.
They love for the wrong reasons,
Ass, tits and so.
If luck be a lady,
You’ll never know if you’re lazy.
She flashes the hardworking,
And only those who care to try.
If luck be a lady,
Would she be your lady?
Would you toil for many long hours?
Follow her home? Maybe get luck?
If luck be my lady,
I’ll never ever let go.
We’ll have a baby, name her success,
Two more :-) maybe fifty.
Amant et pirate
He fell in love the moment he set eyes on me.
It was love at first sight.
That was where it all started.
By the hospital bed.
A bond that would last forever.
He was my father.
My partner in crime.
The things mama disapproved off.
Brushing my teeth myself.
Drawing on the table with my crayons.
Sitting in his spot on the dining table.
A true pal I must say.
There was this one time he allowed me drive his parked car.
Best feeling ever for a 3-year-old.
We got out haircuts together.
He followed me to school sometimes. …