The Antidote.

Thumbing through the loose threads at the knees of my trf jeans
I listen to the huskiness of Paolo Nutini’s voice as he strikes a soft G.
I wonder why the neighbour’s dogs have stopped barking
Could it be that they’ve lost their voice?
Or perhaps bashfulness is at their senses’ reach
If only I could sniff just as well...
But maybe they’re also like me
Picking up the pieces
Of whatever’s left of the pellet on the floor
And maybe just like me
Summer is their favourite season
A time of rice cakes and strawberry milkshakes
Sunsets and cheese omelettes
Bicycle rides and ipod tunes
Whistles and stares
(Though I wouldn’t be bothered)
Making dog-ears in my beloved paperbacks
Rendezvous with my polygamous lovers-
There’s Coke after lunch
Ice creams at supper
And Cadbury whenever
Poetic License. Geraniums.Orchids.Daffodils.
Treading barefoot
Along my custom-made valley
A prerequisite for the mountain heights
Whistling on a rainy Sunday
With a drenched cardboard for cover
Listening
Seeking
Waiting
Enjoying
Living for moments that take my breath away...

quid pro quo

Thanks to Mark Knopfler for the inspiration... :)

The soldier took off his armor
Laid down his sword
And examined his wounds
Some scars are fading
Some are just starting to sting
Yet the battle is far from being over.
He gazed at his callused feet
Then at the road ahead
A tear trickled
And slided down his sword
The blade gleamed as liquid touched metal
Everything is traded off....
Fire for pure silver.
Pressure for diamonds.
Sweat for food.
Pain for joy.
Storm for harvest.
Blood for peace.
Tears for strength.
Heartache for wisdom.
Crucifixion for redemption.
Failure for growth....
Death for Truth.