Kunthe Skrzat

Monday, April 2, 2012

forgive me

forgive me
limitations of my
I could not stop
soul desire
and my whole
to explore the secrets
sun

should not

Do not complain about your life …

One person who heard the complaint, will be a stone that will hinder your step

The more people know, will tear down the fortress, and you will fall flake like sand …

when

when sprayed into the world of my life
I cried
because I live
I breathe breath of life

who knocked over a whisper

I did not hear the echoes of the moon
I was unloading my chest wall width
were wild door gaping soul
my heartbeat pounding chase
rattle my body

a cup of coffee

let's first coffee ....
than being insane ....

a piece of soul

a piece of soul servants heart
small steps when the universe hit the wall
He sat for a moment and then stripped the cloud
trying to understand the cross-wind slapping
and electroplating

naked

naked! was the naked eye, oh heart
when the night - any day
naked! was the naked eye, oh soul
do not touch

ever alive

every taste is night and day
heaven and earth: the dry and rainy
extends the space within the universe of time
and I are on it
it is impossible to be run

sleep and dreams

in my sleep I'm dreaming
and in my dreams
I'm asleep
and in my sleep
I had a dream

I want to

I want wielding star

- But dark gripped

I want to be angry

- But the early morning mist cut my throat

I want to write a baby poem

- But my life stuck-slaughter

stone

when the sun went to greet her cast the solar

residual moisture is forced to survive

and clutch his fingers firmly on the leaves

ultimately in vain; slips and falls

and it seems like I'm just trying to translate it all

even if only by my language

and we are equally

and we are equally
feel the warmth of the morning looking at solar
the fragrant flowers bloom as long

song of freedom

collected a million tears

- for what?

- Why not just dead?

all plunged in the depths of the storm

feeling hopeless; bored and always stuck

teach me prayer

I always recite in distress
I always recite the anxiety
I always recite the error
I always recite in their grief
I always recite the powerlessness

I own the night’s

kiss the moon rocks extend

my hair is loose go dancing

sanction

up one morning

"Bastards!"

"BASTARDS!" I swear as hard as my strength.

This morning, I had awakened from my sleep soundly. This dream was the worst in the history of my life. Loud and very noisy as hundreds of lightning outside my house. Though its history has never been a morning I woke up like this. And to make matters worse, I woke up not because of my own. This is really a very hated.

After all I have to thank the journalists across the country

.I deny not, honestly in my heart, that the reporter was just a bunch of hypocrites and cowards. To me they were the same as terrorists. It's just not as extreme as well as how a real terrorist. The only broadcast journalist inequality and all the evil in the world. That way they also create terror in people. So I'm not one to assess if they are part of the terrorists.