Happy Plastic Bag

Happy Plastic Bag

Happy Plastic Bag
Rolling on the Concrete Pavement
Sliding on the Man-made Tiles
Running on the Parklands Grass

Happy Plastic Bag
Caught a Little Tailwind
Bloated up to full Size
Jumped a Little Distance

Jump Skip Hop
Jump Skip Hop

Happy Plastic Bag
Got a Little Boost
From the warm Spring Winds
Happy Plastic Bag being Happy

Happy Plastic Bag
Took in a deep warm breath
Jumped a little Higher
Jumped a Little Further

Happy Plastic Bag
Soaring in the sky
Cast against a background of Azure
Fleeting like a Happy Dream

Happy Plastic Bag
Soaring without Wings-
Well, maybe with just two little ones
Yet it soared High

Happy Plastic Bag
Being Happy
Don’t know when its ride will end
Don’t know when it’ll Land

Bird of Prey

I was perched on a hollow branch
Poised in a first-flight stance,
I shuffled my talonous feet, From side to side,
Then poked my feathers with a mangled beak.

Daybreak dawned on my bright white feathers,
-A sight I welcomed hither.
It was a symbol of time benign,
It was more than a mere awakening sign.

It was a time of The Dawning Light,
It was the time for my maiden flight
I was either the righteous Might,
Or damned to be the hellish Kite.

Either way I am depicted,
One title would mean the other I’m evicted
No matter if I hunt by night or day
I am still a Bird of Prey.

It would seem I’ve left the branch -my home,
But now its the sky I roam.
Closer to the Sun my wings have brought me to
Further from my lair my Odyssey flew.

New sights and scents and feeling and breadth
New sensations like life and age and death
No matter where the winds bring my mane,
Memory of my land shall not wane.

For some,
This is the dawn to the ending of all dusks
-The end of all that rusts.

For some,
This is a time where the end is nigh
But rest assured, I shant forget what I’ve left behind.

Envy

She had green eyes.

the type that if you stare long enough into it, you will lose yourself. It sent my skin running, tingling with every sensation known to man, yet it warmed my heart to the point it starts to melt. Her hair sways with the beat, and her feet, steadfast on the ground.

She was a moving monument. Her presence asserted itself onto me, i was instantly dwarfed by her magnificience. Yet my ego had allowed it to be. The sight of her humbled even the proudest of lions.

She had green eyes.

If DaVincci had had her as a speciment, the Mona Lisa would be like the moon on its palest night. colourless, lifeless, barren and uninteresting.

Her smile was one of Heaven's best, her laughter is notoriously hellish. The duo could make any man feel both afterlives, right here on earth.

She had green eyes.

I stared into her green eyes. I was lost, yet I have found what was missing for a long time.

I breathed her in, and "euphoria", was redefined.

she had green eyes.

I can Whistle for Shit

I was looking out my backyard with a hot cuppa in hand... then a brown sparrow landed on a branch not too far away from me.

so I whistled
and it chirped in response.

so i whistled again
it tilted its head at me, then chirped.
whistle
chirp
whistle
chirp
whistle
chirp
whistle
chirp
whistle
chirp
whistle
chirp
whistle

still with the head tilted

chirp.

whistle
.
.
.
.
.
then it took a crap

cackle/chirp

*flew away*

:(

Sunday

A loud crack echoed through my relatively empty house as I unhinge the sliding door to its harness, as it rolled open i could feel the cold air outside entering into my room through me. the surge was bitter but at the same time rejuvenating, too long have I been harbouring myself in the warm air, spoiled and rotten by it to the point i no longer remember the harshness of the world outside.

i put one bare feet out onto the cold weather washed tiles, then the other. I could feel the chill seeping in between my toes, my heels and up my thighs. Only by Sliding my feet into a pair of slippers had the syphon stopped.

A cup of hot espresso in my right hand an a fine cut between my index and middle finger on the left, i inhaled, then washed the ash down with the contents of the mug on my right hand. it was a dark but awakening indulgence. for a split second i had a moment of clarity, a moment of inginuity, but that Great Feeling left as quickly as it came.

Pockets of cold air rushed through my oily hair from time to time, Winter is letting its grip slip after these few long months, and the time of Spring is nigh.

I looked up into the sky which was painted in a collage of grey by the rolling clouds; they are never still in this part of the world. Spots of blue littered the heavenly canvas, trying to break free from the clutches of the Rain God, trying to exert its presence. We all know that for a fact, but even the omni-present sky yields to the rain clouds from day to day, and all too often.

Trees and foliage sway from end to end, beginning to beginning, singing along with the God's dark ochestra, but I do not blame them-they cannot tell gale from breeze; they dance as long as there is melodic force moving them.

but we, blessed by the curse of sight know better... or do we?

Often we make mistakes, mistakes more obvious than wrong telling the differece between light and dark, but that cannot be helped. The human race is a stubborn one. When given the choice to choose, or even recommended a path to take, we take the other road -the one not taken...

...not by many at least...

Timocracy

Just something that had occured to me recently...

Pronunciation: [ti-'mah-krê-si]
Definition: Plato considered timocracy government by principles of honor. To Aristotle it was a government in which the ownership of property is a prerequisite for holding office.

If we go with Aristotle's interpretation of the word Timocracy, then think hard on today's society, our systems of government in those so called "democratic countries" is'nt really...ummnn... democratic?

when was the last time you saw someone without a significant amount of financial wealth hold office? I cant remember...

But thats not the point im trying to make today. with those things being said, the internet realm has also become timocratic. i've realized that every forum I go to, they require you to be a member of that forum in order to post a comment (voice your opinion), and to become a member, you will need an email address.

since there are not many types of things we can "own" in the internet, hence an email address is pretty significant. it is not exhaustive in that category in a sense, because there are still websites, web pages and not to mention blogs, that are available to be "owned" by people.

Also in the blog-sphere, the really famous blogsites that had attracted alot of readers usually recieve high acclaims (or criticism) and they usually express them in the form of comments or the largely misused word - "testimonials".

what i find, when rumaging thru these comments is that, those who have included their own blog url or email address are more convincing... or yield more authority, at least when compared with those who post annonymously or those who did otherwise.

maybe its just me or If youre an abibliophobic and read everything you come across in the internet, do you think the internet has become timocratic as well?