Smile on repeat

I'll be high on your smile,

If you'd only let it extend a mile,

Slowly let it tip-toe into your cheek,

And off your dimple, let it leak.

Ch: If really I could,

I really would,

Oh baby,

You know me,

I'd clean it up and make things neat,

Just to play your smile on repeat.

Come on, fair boy,

Play your demeanor a tad coy,

Loosen that brittle,

And smile a little.

Ch: If really I could,

I really would,

Oh baby,

You know me,

I'd clean it up and make things neat,

Just to play your smile on repeat.

Bridge: If you'd try to put that smile

in your wallet,

I can bet,

I can promise you,

that it'll say, "no can do"

Baby, my billionaire,

Do that thing, that makes me stare.

Ch: If really I could,

I really would,

Oh baby,

You know me,

I'd clean it up and make things neat,

Just to play your smile on repeat.

Perhaps

Perhaps I should let it all go,

watch you like a performing art.

Art is so abstract

it won't change its way.

It's the power of a label,

a catalyst to digestion:

a crutch by you,

a faint placebo

letting you last.

Then you can without restriction,

like a bird spread your wings,

play out our colour.

It will atleast look beautiful like a rainbow,

just out of order.

?

If lovers live forever,
are you and I immortal?

Would you bloom at night
if the sun was out?

Why isn’t it ever understood that birth control helps saving the unborn from this world of filth?

If less is more -
Why aren’t you ever satisfied with the green on your side?

Do windows suffer
from an inferiority complex when they see a door?

If no two finger prints match,
Have you checked to believe so?

Do the sheep feel cold
when you’re wearing a sweater?

Why is there racism
if black makes a statement?

Is the lipstick on your collar - a message
for me, or just plain ignorance?

Why would you give my heart an ailment
when my blood is so pure?

If I play dead,
will you play mourn?

If I sleep with you,
will you call me your virgin tomorrow?

Are you a sadist
if you smile at a rainbow’s perpetual
frown?

A piece of info.

Please read the following carefully:

The European Commission has just announced an agreement whereby English will be the official language of the European Union rather than German, which was the other possibility.

As part of the negotiations, the British Government conceded that English spelling had some room for improvement and has accepted a 5- year phase-in plan that would be known as "Euro-English".

* In the first year, "s" will replace the soft "c". Sertainly, this will make the sivil servants jump with joy. The hard "c" will be dropped in favour of "k". This should klear up konfusion, and keyboards kan have one less letter.

* There will be growing publik enthusiasm in the sekond year when the troublesome "ph" will be replaced with "f". This will make words like fotograf 20% shorter.

* In the 3rd year, publik akseptanse of the new spelling kan be expekted to reach the stage where more komplikated changes are possible.
Governments will enkourage the removal of double letters which have always ben a deterent to akurate speling.

Also, al wil agre that the horibl mes of the silent "e" in the languag is disgrasful and it should go away.

* By the 4th yer people wil be reseptiv to steps such as replasing "th" with "z" and "w" with "v".

* During ze fifz yer, ze unesesary "o" kan be dropd from vords kontaining "ou" and after ziz fifz yer, ve vil hav a reil sensibl riten styl.

Zer vil be no mor trubl or difikultis and evrivun vil find it ezi tu understand ech oza. Ze drem of a united urop vil finali kum tru.

* Und efter ze fifz yer, ve vil al be speking German like zey vunted in ze forst plas.
-- Officials said.

INVICTUS by William Ernest Henley

INVICTUS


Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

Living My Dream Now!!

Most 3 year olds draw. I wrote. It began with pages and pages of scrawls and scribbles of trying to imitate my Mother's handwriting. By the age of 6 i began writing my own stories. Of princesses and princes, of evil and good, of golden apples and swords. I lived an a world of fantasy. A world that i created myself by my writing. Upon been questioned at the age of 9 on what i want to be when i grow up, my answer was obvious: An Author!
"That's not a profession! Why don't you be a doctor. You love Science too."
That's the reply I received from all my uncles and aunts. Ah well, I did focus on Science. I stopped writing.
Quite a few years passed and I was stuck on Science. I aced in Biology and decided that i would go into that field.

It happened in a boring 3 hour chemistry class. I was not able to concentrate on polymers and synthetic fibres and whatever the teacher was raving about. ( No offence to chemistry lovers). That's when i put my pen to paper and began writing again. That day, I just wrote and wrote and wrote. I don't remember what i wrote about but it was anything and everything that came to my mind. I felt happy and free. At the end of the hour, my teacher comes up to me and after patting me on the head, says, "Genevieve, it's good to see you paying attnention and taking notes in class. " If only she knew!

Till the last day of my ISC board exams my mind was set on pursuing Science. The very next day, my focus completely shifted. I still don't know how but i had decided to take up mass communication. My parents are cool when it comes to me choosing my own career. My reltaives were all surprised though. Actually, i'm the one who's surprised the most.

Well, things turned out for the best. I got admission into the Communicative English course at Mount Carmel College and I've started working on my first book. :)

2 years ago, my Grand- mother had opened up to me and told me that she wished for her biography to be written by one of her chidren. I'm fulfilling that wish. My first book is the biography of my grand mom. My dream as of now is to see this book published. For her. For the people who will be touched reading her story and know that there is still hope for those who have lost all. My dream is to make a difference to people and I know that one way I can do it is through my writing.

I'm living my dream now.

Advice: Don't loaf on this lane

This filthy, all-purpose lane is a total attendance grabber. With a whiff of freshly squeezed orange juice and the sound of motorcars and the buzzing of bees, the busy latecomers who return from the sight of locked classroom doors grab a warm cup of coffee or a refreshing plate of cut fruit. These groups of rejected women gather around the dirty footpaths engaging in their lengthy, chitter-chatter early morning rants.

The now faded orange juice aroma is usurped by a cow who decided to do her perfumery business for the day, swishing her semi wet tail as if the cool wind were her natural hair/tail dryer. Insistent flies of course find their daily hub as Mrs. Moo moves on to house many more of them.

Vegetable sellers, turn on their vocal chords for the day screaming reasonable prices despite the heavy recession. Pharmacies burst with fresh orders of pregnancy tests, tampons and contraception as the cafes clear up the half finished idly’s and the left over sambar bowls, in the midst of planning lunch menus for the day. Cars and bikes hustle their way through a measly path flooded with living creatures the size of a fly to an enormous cow and everything else between them.

I took myself here on hearing that the shortest route to the other side of the road would be through this lane. It's certainly not the shortest route of most pleasant sights, sounds and smells.

3..2..1..boom.

"Waiter, could you bring us some wa.."
Bang.Bang Bang.
Just like that.
At 9.18 p.m on the November 26Th, several areas of Mumbai experienced terror attacks including the Taj hotel, the Oberoi Trident,Nariman house and Chhatrapati Shivaji terminus. Now it's 7.05 p.m of the 27Th and the terror continues. It seems almost surreal. Like something out of a movie or a particularly bad dream. But the reality of it is, is that all this is happening.
More than a hundred innocent people have died in this incident and the numbers seem to rise every hour. People are still being held hostage at the hotels not counting the guests locked up in their hotel rooms.I read the numbers,I saw the bomb blasts,I heard the gun shots.But nothing prepared me for this image: At about 5.30 p.m, a man wearing a white shirt was waving and screaming for help from a window at the Oberoi Trident. This man, with no contact to the outside world, has been stuck in that room for almost twenty-four hours. 998 kilometers away, I shivered. It was a unbelievable and horrifying sight. To even imagine the state of this person and the other hostages is too much to bear. And remember, we're nearly a thousand kilometers away.
Boom.Boom.Boom.
A group calling themselves the Deccan Mujahideen has taken responsibility for this attack. They entered these two grand landmarks of Mumbai and fired indiscriminately upon front office and kitchen staff as well as guests.

What reason could they possibly have to inflict such terror?And is any reason good enough?

THE LION

oh, weep for Mr. and Mrs.Bryan !
he was eaten by a lion;
following which,
the lions lioness
up and swallowed Bryan's Bryaness..!!
lol..

The Night

Shuffling of leaves beyond the mist of the night. Shadows engulf images and whispers penetrate walls. Moonlight ravenously cuts through curtained windows. Howling dogs continue without concern. Gentle breaths fill bedrooms. Sometimes overpowered by the gusts of snores. A scribbling pen joins the night orchestra. Ending with the crescendo of day break.

Love

Love is thoughtful
Love is kind
Love is something
I could always cherish inside

Its not a memory
Its not a lie
Its more than a feeling inside
How much love is cannot be measured
Only told by a kiss & a sweet bye
Which you ask for and i deny

I love you more than words can say
And ill love you till the end of my days
No matter how much you ignore the words I say
Your each line is felt somewhere
Whether your there or not there

You hold my hand & tell me whats in your mind
So i can put the world behind
But it never works each & every time
Nevertheless I will be there for you
Knowing the love we have shall never die
And your kiss may never quench the thirst

Your heart is for what I have fallen & not the looks
Though you scream at me for small things
And make me angry knowingly
Ill always be mad in love with you
Because your the only one who appreciated me
Now your the sweetest thing on my mind

Until it subsides Ill not cry
Why I love you cannot be answered
Only be thought for a millionth time
Seriously I do not know why
Why your the one stuck on my mind

You supported me in my tears
And cajoled me in my sorrows
Maybe I'm a little too hyper
But I cannot help it
Your a little too nice to forget
A little too cute to be left alone

What I only know right now
Is what actually matters to me
i.e. I Love You and You Love me.

[Hey guys,
Please comment critically would want to know what you think of it!]

HEY THIS IS SOMETHIN U MUST READ...

An ingenious example of speech and politics occurred recently in the United Nations Assembly that made the world community smile.

A representative from India began: 'Before beginning my talk I want to tell you something about Rishi Kashyap of Kashmir, after whom Kashmir is named.

When he struck a rock and it brought forth water, he thought, 'What a good opportunity to have a bath.'

He removed his clothes, put them aside on the rock and entered the water.

When he got out and wanted to dress, his clothes had vanished. A Pakistani had stolen them.'

The Pakistani representative jumped up furiously and shouted, 'What are you talking about? The Pakistanis weren't there then.'

The Indian representative smiled and said, 'And now that we have made that clear, I will begin my speech.'

And they say Kashmir belongs to them………………………………………..

THE ACCIDENT-By Usha Rao
When I had just pushed
into my mouth a piece of cake,
I heard a very very,heart breaking
Noise of a sudden break
Some one had come under the car
I was afraid of going behind the bar.
People gathered around
Immediately,very,very fast;
They all started shouting,screaming
And made a great sound.
I slowly opened the door
Of my beautiful car
Then I saw my driver
Standing away very far!
Police came,Crowd dispersed
Shifting her body,the old lady stirred
But she unable to bear the pain
Now having come to her sense loudly cried...
It was a ghastly sound.
I lend for help,my healthy hand
But the police started making queries.
Luckily his voice melted up
In the noise of a wedding music band!
I then quickly pushed into the hands of the police
A brand new note of rupees five hundred.
He hurriedly passed it in his pocket,
And became a good friend.
The dead body of the old lady
Now lay by my side
Police was with the driver
Asked me to take the car aside
There were on the roads many lamps
But to me all was dark.
Police asked the driver now
To stop the car near the park
He silently took the old lady
Out of my ambassador car
Showed a big salute to me
Asked me to go very far!
This accident of many,many years,
Yet like clouds,the events
Gather in front of my eyes,
But I cannot see anything
Because of my tears.
What do you'll think of this poem?

My grandpa has the most amazing attitude!

It is in the blood of my family to be worried and upset I suppose.They have to get all worked up for even the tiniest of things and make an issue out of it.My grandfather however is unlike the rest.His attitude matches his physical appearance-a healthy old man with hardly any hair,a big fat tummy and not to forget,his grin(though he has very few teeth left).My grandpa unlike the others as I said,is always in a good mood and he always has something positive to say.It was not only me but almost everyone in the neighbourhood who loved my grandpa.
A lot of people came home regularly to talk to my grandpa because of his lovely attitude towards life.He was a natural motivator and would teach people to look at the positive side of things.Seeing this style made me really curious.So one day,I went up to grandpa and asked him how a person could be so positive all the time.Grandpa grinned and said,"Each morning I wake up and say to myself-I have 2 choices today-to be in a good mood or in a bad mood.I always choose to be in a good mood."I protested and said that life was not that easy."Ofcourse it is!"he said."Life is all about choices when you cut out the junk from every situation."
Several months later,Grandpa fell ill and had to undergo a surgery.After 2 years of treatment,he was fine.When i asked him how he was,he said that he could not be any better.I looked at him rather amused."I had to make a choice to live or to die.I chose to live"he said laughing.
Grandpa's attitude could sail him through any kind of situation.My grandpa has the most amazing attitude!

Love.

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

- I carry your heart by E.E Cumminugs

Over the years, my perception of love has changed. When I was younger, love was magical, something waiting to happen. Something that would change my life forever. Love was Aladdin-Jasmine, Snow White and her Prince, Cinderella and her Prince.

Slowly, as I grew up, love became more.. real. It still remained the-thing-that-would-change-my-life, but it started to have more layers, more depth. Love was Romeo and Juliet. Love was Shahrukh Khan and Kajol in DDLJ, in they yellow mustard fields clinging to each other with all their might because they knew their path wouldn't be easy. Love was surrender.

Then, I found Jane Austen. Love became Elizabeth and Mr.Darcy. Love became Elinor and Edward Ferrars. Love became two people who meet, find a connection, find each other and themselves, separate and find each other again.

For me now, love is all of this and sometimes, only one. But it still remains the-thing-that-changed-my-life :)