Post has attachment
"If death were music it would be your heartbeat.Fading when you're occupied and hammering against your skull when you least want it to. But always there.
If depression were a dance it would be your breath. Overlooked and underestimated. Shallow and small. Escaping but not leaving. Never leaving. But always there.
If souls were visions they would be smiles. Bleeding and broken and thoroughly chewed from over-thinking. Fleeting and fake and reserved. But always there..."
Freeing Finality:
Freeing Finality:
fatimahumayune.blogspot.com

THE INHERITANCE OF TEX MONTREAL

Very well...let's start a discussion about this character, inferior only to all beings.
Above everything else he loved himself exclusively.
But let's take a faint look at his origins: Tex Montreal was flanged from earth to you guys by a whole host of cute but strange space rejects (some kind of alien parasite), when he was not yet ready for life.
Being a very sophisticated type (all study and home), Tex, little by little was trying to adapt. Very important were his exploits as a dick head. He also took place in many celebrations in the town square, and because of wear and tear, he acquired an annoying growth named “Silk Teddy”. And it was this special addition to his body that allowed him to take part in great football tournaments.
Let's cite the most important ones, where Tex Montreal, with the help of Silk Teddy, scored big time:
SEPTA vs BENNY & JERRY = 4-0
UNCLAIMED FREIGHT vs THE DUMP = Cancel due to
disqualified coaches fighting before and during the game.
MAHAVISHNU OR. vs JIMMY BUFFETT BIG BAND = 790-0
Tex later married the hardest working woman around, Alexandra Phuckhammer, and together made one movie per year, according to reliable sources.
Extra famous were also his love letters; one of these was addressed to the triad: Snare-Cymbal-Bass Drum.
Tex Montreal and his wife liked to eat a lot and were ordering food every day and spending money.

Their favorite dish was the notorious Cannelloni by renown chef
Beauregard V. Asscan. These are the ingredients:
1⁄2 pound of cronic cough, 3 gr. of Peter Pan stupidity, 1 oz. of a good idea, 6 out of 5 sardines, 1 Tartini cricket, 2 Tom-Toms by Maytag, 6 pounds of real life and 1 kilo of sauce lifted from a stained shirt.
Tex died under unlucky circumstances, which occurred four years prior to his real death. His wife Alexandra still to this day continues to work.

Post has attachment
Missing someone deeply...

Someone who never scolded me... 

Someone who never want me to cry...

Someone who never had an idea to lose me...

Someone who never knew that I'm crying and dying everyday now...

Someone who never could come back to me...

Someone who never ever see me...

But my talks n memories made that someone to think about me always...

Wherever you go whatever you do...

None can treat me like the way you do...

Missing...Really missing....

                            ~Shagi 😥

For more:https://www.facebook.com/Shagis-Poems-and-Quotes-146231832725317/
Photo

Post has attachment
Hard to believe this was posted a year ago. This excerpt of a story I started is one of my top blog posts.

A Shortie: Number 5
Pete Baldwin slowed the rental car to a stop. Reminders of his past surrounded and pressed him since he and his wife, Marsha, arrived. They hadn’t been in Marshalltown, IA in over a decade but driving through the old neighborhood transported him to the old days more than any other sight or familiar face. Seeing the house stirred emotions inside him.
http://duanewphillips.blogspot.com/2017/07/a-shortie-number-5.html

Post has attachment

PIECES OF PAPER RANIONI

An author of old hags, one day made the mistake of accepting happiness by exploding at the bottom of a tall building; from that catastrophe, pieces of paper Ranioni were born, and by nose-diving from above, end up ruining the passer-by's backs, whom fruitlessly try to shield themselves with beams of light, the same ones of the resurrection.
It came one day though, different from any other day: the pieces of paper Ranioni were, as usual, in search of prey, when a man, half there and half somewhere, said - “Not even a caress can stop them!." The people who heard these words, printed themselves onto the city billboards (their own special way), while others decided to put an end with the months of August, April and May, submitting them to harsh tortures.
Ultimately, the pieces of paper Ranioni, feared by everyone, were nothing but a collection of misunderstood fortune cookies quotes, soaked and passed again up and down with: ham essence; sprigs of plums drained in water; strange signs of impatience; a set of cold cazz'n'gulo by Vernucchi; ravioli with nothing but taste inside, and finally a communion of noises and pitches difficult to decipher.

BEING HUMAN

Don't be fooled by the appearance of 'family',
Even though center of attention amongst 'friends' -
Most people are alone regardless of being busy.

People know to show what's desirable to the seers,
Tenderly hiding what really is
For, even if it is just being seen,
It gives some sense of security and belonging.
The price of 'acceptance' being, to conform.

Pitfall of being human is to get enticed
By, a endless search of something better...
The yearning to experience in the physical world,
The ideal coveted by the mind...
Thus being seduced by life, and then betrayed.
For, a dream exists in the unconscious world,
When life puts its claws on it,
Reality starts to shred that perfect image.

01/07/2018 Aan Anusaan

Aan Anusaan (c) copyright July, 2018

https://plus.google.com/s/%23journeyapp#life#beinghuman#reflecting#cycle#mind#thought

Post has attachment
POEM: The Ups and Downs of Life

We have seen day and night
Darkness and light
Felt the chill and the warmth
Sadness and delight

Climbing to the top for a down slide
Experiencing a roller coaster ride
Adventuring on an uphill hike
But seeing the best view at the peak

From the time we screamed our way
Into this world to start the journey
Life on earth doesn’t keep us jolly
Neither does it keeps us gloomy

So how do we cope
When we are at a slope
Or what is our attitude
When we are on high altitude

Our life is driven by our state of mind
Our wings of faith keep us soaring
But our heavy burdens keep us on the ground
Our life is driven by our way of thinking

If we are worried about our dark times
It will not last
If hope is not at our glance
It will surely come to past

God is mindful of our situation
His point of view differs from our perception
What we think is lost, He can turn for our gain
Our faith in Him, permits His intervention

We, like a scale, is able to fulfill our purpose
When we are enabled to balance
Positive thoughts
Against a negative circumstance

The mind is God’s gift to us
Better than gold to possess
The molding clay in our hands
To shape into defense against the odds

Copyrighted ©2018
BY: Jahmar Anderson (JAHMARthePOET)
******************************************

WATCH THE ANIMATED VIDEO FOR THIS POEM HERE:

https://youtu.be/dtHpT5tZIqM

JAHMARthePOET: "Expressing Life through Poetry"

Dear Members,

Hello my name is Aan and I have been writing as hobby since school days. I did few creative writing for non-fiction and poetry at University and am really interested in anthology, psychology and philosophy. Coming from conservative family always had a pressure to pursue "normal" common career for "sturdy" predictable income.

After getting married and having children and being stay at home for 2 years with 2 children 2year and 1 year old I think I will loose my sanity if I don't find a way and audience to express myself. The many thoughts, ideas and questions recently after few years has driven me back to writing more frequently.

I am honestly thinking of doing it more than as a hobby. I have made few blogs and Facebook page with username Aan Anusaan. I would love any support and contribution towards becoming a full time professional writer. Looking forwards to this journey towards my lifelong passion. With much love and hope.

Regards,

Aan Anusaan

Flying on the wings of my dream...I dare to live

I am surrounded by thoughts,
thoughts that often keep, me up -
Haunt my sleep and stuck through day.

The voice, the questions that can't be silenced.
It's time I dare, Dare to begin this journey.
Here I am to take a flight to the source deep within,
That seems to always hinder my journey...
To find a discovery that will open the closed door.

Yes let's celebrate breaking free..
leaping forward by sowing the past,
To harvest a blooming today, -
My only door to tomorrow

26/06/2018 Aan Anusaan
Wait while more posts are being loaded