Some stones are gems. Gems come with their own meaning. To life of the beholder.

Grandpa collected stones. Grandpa favorited the black one. He, with one thousand name called him at last, after handing the precious ones to the precious ones, the most precious one to the most precious one.

A boy, his grandson, he picked up the Black Stone. Grandpa nodded. He is the apple of his eyes. Fond of him the most. Grandson shared the same heart.

Precious as it may, the Black Stone unknowingly was bridging life.

Now, nothing can be redeemed.

The new scooter, landed on a road, one fine afternoon. One head on the floor, and not moving. It never moved again.

Heavier tears after another heavy tears within 3 months. That was the time allowed by the Black Stone to be in grandson’s hands. He’s gone to see grandpa to rejoin their lost love.

The Black Stone defined love.

I walked on her sandals and to the wide opened curtain. As she always did.

No need to deliver today elsewhere. This time the postcard goes to you. 

It has been hundreds “Leave me alone”. One more time, just.

bringing ashes for the river to wash it away is not my cup of tea. But, if it has to…

But, I’m thinking of them. It can’t be fair.

Why did you want Him to bring you back? You are dead. You are dead. I shot you in the head. Listen, detach your soul from mine. You want to be free, don’t you? Don’t you forget that. Remember.

If you can’t. Burn yourself into ashes.

I know how to float a candle in a flower boat under the moonlight for the departed. I’ve learned. I can put a little bit of nice music. something you might like. 

If you still can’t.

I can call her, of whom teaching to burn one from one’s life came from. Spare me your T-shirt.

Year 15. You don’t want to feel pain anymore. 

Yours truly,

666.

Life, is just a fairytale.

It’s only pretty, when I sit still in my circle.

Despite MATA*

kept witnessing

chaotic souls outside my window.

(*eyes)

]]> http://psychedelicangel.wordpress.com/2008/01/16/hello-world/feed/ 2 junearya fairy0141.gif http://psychedelicangel.wordpress.com/2007/12/27/never-challenge-death/ http://psychedelicangel.wordpress.com/2007/12/27/never-challenge-death/#comments Thu, 27 Dec 2007 07:50:51 +0000 junearya http://psychedelicangel.wordpress.com/?p=8 ]]>


You might not be scared, but NEVER challenge death, as one day, it’ll be allowed, to come and fetch you. You might not know the power of such words when spoken intermittenly. It’s only brainwashing the life-taker to only focus on your heart-beat.

At that time you might be on top of the world, worshipped by all, at the edge of winning the heart of the people.

You still can win, but also dead.

We are mere a human being, tend to forget, we are not the most superpower being, unlike the imaginary thought we always have that we are.

Winning and still able to witness our victory is most likely to be better option for all.

That house remains on its feet, renovation kept on going for some years.

After nine years, one day I was smoking outside a yard of a building bymyself in the dark, trying to read ‘Le Monde’. I looked up, recognized the back shape of a house. Very familiar back stairs. I moved my eyes around for more hints.

Yes, it was! It was that house! What all had happened in that house. Things, nobody wants to remember.

Only two more remains. One-by-one, the member had left…. each with flow of heavy tears filling in the ponds surround the house …. and wash one, with dry tears, in a coffin.

Pile of diamonds had cost one life, soul of the house.

No. No, it hasn’t finished yet. It still craves for more souls, of all the guardians, unless, guardians announce the release of their tittles.

Blaring red was rarely seen. Only blue sky, grey once in a while, seen only from a distance, once in a while. Lungs filled with fresh air…and the moon starts mingling and taking over the dimly lit hall. Thank you, moon!

Mother once pulled me out of a hole, barely alive, ugly covered in stinking mud. She bathed me like an obedient buffalo, regularly, in the sea. And then sent me away. Away to a land of the snake-charmers up highland, where I met all kinds of cures I needed: a jade and a twice bigger twin, who lent me protection in an incomprehensible way.

Time to return. No more protection-racket. Time to define and face the devil in angel’s look. Gosh, they are plenty! Help!! Too stunned to speak, but at last, twin heard it from his soul, rushed to seek for help and constantly whispered in my ears for a way out.

I still can see none…but whispers kept coming to my ears…and I felt a little safe…just a little..

Attacks-by-attacks pouring in. Nothing lethal but merely tremendous moral exhaustion. Your cute-pet, am I? NO!

I WANT TO BE ALONE

I WANT TO BE ALONE,

I…WANT…TO…BE…ALONE!

I would complain to the teaching of forgiveness. Why do we need to forgive?

Now, I’m bright red. Flashing-red! Who’s responsible? You, Maroon Robe?

HELP!!! Don’t let me explode!!!

“If we want to go there we must dress like a hippie.”

“Don’t worry, my cupboard still keeps those. I was one.”

Puff puff…..puff Mary Jane and smile. Look out to the white view outside from the window pane. Feel the ecstasy. It’s good to be back.

Far…far away…from the noise… noise of the gun-shooting heard every now and then. No more hitting order. Stop!

Good night, Lover… Warm me again.