MAY Blankets Pleasure Me in 30 Unlikely Ways
The angels from the land of the Dutch, to those floating in the oceans of Korea, to those on the beaches of Brazil, to those dodging the city of Barcelona, comprehend me now, if the clock strikes me mad, as sometime you MAY see 30 past the hour, right before the big hand meets the little, no one alive can always be a Jesus Christ, you can’t always be an angel, no matter how beautiful your sensual smile is, and it’s fucking beautiful.
The bad becomes so clear, when everything turns mistaken, but I am just a lost soul dancing on the shores of good intent, I’ll be misunderstood even and everyway the angels glance at it, as I say the right things, wrong so many times, and there is no turning back the clock in real time, it’s just apart of the misunderstand.
Clarifications shouldn’t need to be conceived for reasons of justification, but you don’t realize my misunderstood visions of the MAY blankets that pleasure my heart in 30 unlikely ways, so I try to explain but I don’t know where it goes, except trying to the say the right things, but I don’t know how sometimes, I suppose.
When I move closer and clearer down the bumpy roads of vindication, I seem to only be getting further and further, lost in the fog of clarification, from the angels of misunderstanding, wanting to grab my MAY blankets of pleasure, only to realize faster than the spark of a cigarette, that’s my misunderstanding.
Maybe enlightenment of the truth is like a little boy with hopeful eyes attempting to wake from a daydream of illusion, trying not to be misunderstood is just a product of myself but still perhaps I haven’t attempted hard enough to explain myself, more than just shouts of forgiveness to the angels that grab a hold of my sacred words.
Just wanting to be treated like the norm, but the angels they are the ones that treat me differently, I want to believe, I desire in opposition but it’s all blinded in a fog of misunderstanding. The cold snowy winds blew us into a circle of confusion, turning misunderstanding into a mistaken hurricane of fabricated gusts of isolation and abandonment. I tried but only ended up stumbling on my own words deeper into a chaotic disorder, reaching for your hand but became restless thinking I did the best I could do, wanting to hit rewind only to shut my mouth but that’s only fantasy.
I’m not afraid to say that you seem to be answering questions that I am not asking, and it’s become apparent that my apologetic sorrows sound nothing more than a burnt disc skipping on flawed results that are fighting with emotion towards good intentions. Not a bit of this was a part of the plan, so reach out to my hand, and lets pull one another out of this quicksand, and we don’t need to try and understand…we just need to be.
Mike Ahuja
Showing posts with label forgive. Show all posts
Showing posts with label forgive. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Why is it easier to forgive an enemy than it is to forgive a friend?
Why is it easier to forgive an enemy than it is to forgive a friend?
Pondering thoughts to this question, while being caressed by the dryness of rain drops that sprinkle little parts of potion that comfortably touch my southern soul into a soaking wet sensation of uncomfortable thoughts; but hold on those uncomfortable thoughts dance in our minds are nothing utter than real, even if they fade away at times.
I would be afraid if you didn’t cry you heart out at times, I would be afraid that you weren’t real, or weren’t real with me, with us, and the clock circles around with a constant master plan of the little and big hand chasing after one another effortlessly with attempt at meeting as one together, in bittersweet fashion. I want them to dance so badly together, like they once did before mankind created their prison which only confines us to measuring our forgiveness in constant reminder of how long something goes on for, both good and bad, real or fictional, but with friends not enemies.
I don’t want to be there to see the times in which we end up singing these songs that aren’t meant to be sung, and the crazy words that say nothing more than silence might say, but it’s like seeing the thunder, and hearing the lightening, don’t go away because sometimes what’s wrong is right and what’s right is wrong, you just have to trust in the chance of your heart. We all have our fantasies of purification, and I thank you for being mine, providing me a place to frolic into a garden of non-fictional emotions, taking me to a place you go where nobody else knows.
Looking forward into forgiveness gives the sky sunshine, and provides the honest answers to the questions that you might have been asking or seeking out in determination of what we all believe as being a sincere plan in freezing time and stopping the rain from drowning our heart and emotions. You know that feeling that you get with enemies, where did it all wrong? Well I hope you know, enemies aren’t real, they’re just games we play like the urges of buying material objects of sin that we all crave, just plastic desires like god and the devil.
Forgiving a friend is the hardest thing we can do, it’s much harder to forgive a friend than an enemy because it’s genuine, and it’s real. This moment of forgiveness won’t let go and will stick around with you until the day you die, but the tears will dry because that’s what forgiveness is, a napkin to wipe the tears. What’s real is friendship, and when you let someone go, and if there is a sense of return, well it happens to be one of the most genuine things we can experience. You can’t ask someone to forget but you can ask someone to forgive.
Mike Ahuja
Pondering thoughts to this question, while being caressed by the dryness of rain drops that sprinkle little parts of potion that comfortably touch my southern soul into a soaking wet sensation of uncomfortable thoughts; but hold on those uncomfortable thoughts dance in our minds are nothing utter than real, even if they fade away at times.
I would be afraid if you didn’t cry you heart out at times, I would be afraid that you weren’t real, or weren’t real with me, with us, and the clock circles around with a constant master plan of the little and big hand chasing after one another effortlessly with attempt at meeting as one together, in bittersweet fashion. I want them to dance so badly together, like they once did before mankind created their prison which only confines us to measuring our forgiveness in constant reminder of how long something goes on for, both good and bad, real or fictional, but with friends not enemies.
I don’t want to be there to see the times in which we end up singing these songs that aren’t meant to be sung, and the crazy words that say nothing more than silence might say, but it’s like seeing the thunder, and hearing the lightening, don’t go away because sometimes what’s wrong is right and what’s right is wrong, you just have to trust in the chance of your heart. We all have our fantasies of purification, and I thank you for being mine, providing me a place to frolic into a garden of non-fictional emotions, taking me to a place you go where nobody else knows.
Looking forward into forgiveness gives the sky sunshine, and provides the honest answers to the questions that you might have been asking or seeking out in determination of what we all believe as being a sincere plan in freezing time and stopping the rain from drowning our heart and emotions. You know that feeling that you get with enemies, where did it all wrong? Well I hope you know, enemies aren’t real, they’re just games we play like the urges of buying material objects of sin that we all crave, just plastic desires like god and the devil.
Forgiving a friend is the hardest thing we can do, it’s much harder to forgive a friend than an enemy because it’s genuine, and it’s real. This moment of forgiveness won’t let go and will stick around with you until the day you die, but the tears will dry because that’s what forgiveness is, a napkin to wipe the tears. What’s real is friendship, and when you let someone go, and if there is a sense of return, well it happens to be one of the most genuine things we can experience. You can’t ask someone to forget but you can ask someone to forgive.
Mike Ahuja
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