Miseries of Happiness

Collection of hundreds of Free Inspiring Quotes from all over the world.
Collection of hundreds of Free Inspiring Quotes from all over the world.

Happiness is just but a suspicious fleeting feeling,

A seduction of false misconception of all things,

That frets with a simple touch of chaos,

A stabbing reality that brings a strange order

 

It is the neglected path that brings new eyes to how wrong things are,

A path that conveys a sense of loss and of desperate longing,

It is the path of recognition of vows not kept and of lost promises,

A path of defenselessness that suffocates under the sickly sweet despair

 

Happiness is the desperate longing of a different kind of life,

A life that is full of adoration colored by a utopian of all sorts,

A life that seeks to make meaning in a different and diversified ways,

A life that is met with cold cruel eyes as old as time itself

 

Love is tender and clear in its own wave of strangeness,

It is the unrestricted rhythm and the voice of the heart,

That has the power of a storm and of gale that overwhelms,

It is bright and strong as the afternoon sunshine,

The universal impulse that cuts through hate, chaos and time

 

Test of Trouble

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Time stopped his heart to feel what he had missed,

At twenty years, his handsome features were his prized possessions,

Such was that beauty that made heads turn as if witnessing a new dawn,

He was reckless, never knew how and when to hesitate or run away from danger

 

At 30, dusk was descending on the edge the impatient time,

He had to discover new powers and new secrets that would shield him,

He had to make his scars and wounds invisible along with protecting his sanity,

He sought all strength to survive in this world where many die of thirst unfulfilled

 

At 40 he never stopped to listen to all the sounds and rhythms of his heart,

He had been careful to remain faithful and project his own reality,

The dollar brought him flowers and he enjoyed the delicious scent of beauty,

And he understood the unrefined language of his heart’s meaning

 

At 50 he grandly sang of his infallible existence as part of creation,

His life was full and his life had surely taken precedence over history,

Time had surely proved to be a test of suffering and trouble,

But now, he felt trapped in this amber of redeeming his own spirituality

 

 

 

 

 

 

Soaking Angel

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In that consuming loneliness, I longed for the comforting angel,

For she was the only one who could see through the windows of my soul,

She possess all the knowledge of care with a protective balm,

At that moment, my life felt bound both in hand and foot

 

The darkened sky was filled with heavily pregnant clouds,

I longed to be enveloped in it and get cleansed in the promising rain,

It was a wish that seemed too devoutly to be wished at that moment,

To wash away all the torment and torture that my frail skin felt

 

I longed to feel that serene touch that was filled with all grace,

To torch away all the horror that my eyes had seen and felt,

The deafening chorus of homeless birds finally announced its arrival,

I was engulfed by an instant yet intense spell that stopped time

 

The voices in my head urged me to stay longer and feel the rain,

As I felt thin and light drizzles touch then cooling my hungry skin,

Oh! The comforting angel must have heard my desperate calling,

I surrendered all my heart, body and soul to the warm generous rain,

Oh! Life definitely had its golden moments and this was one of them!

 

 

One Question

If you were an art, an artistic creation, what would you be?

Aston kamunde

AP2006_01_MAIN

This inevitable pattern is coloured by a mysterious aura,

To most, it is the trapping web where the condemned are chained,

A vain struggle that is circled with dark certainties,

In it, retreating and turning back is almost impossible

These thoughts penetrated deeper and deeper into my mind,

While brief strokes of sunlight accompanied by warm breeze washed my face,

Vanishing all the pale plain colours clogged on my struggling skin,

From the ill-starred and dismal destiny that was beckoning

I tried to make heads or tails of this threatening, throbbing one question,

If I was an art, an artistic creation…..what would I be?

Would I be an easy sweet lying piece of poem?

Would I be a beautiful sad song from an old recording?

Would I be a pious painting that accompanied travellers of hypocrisy?

Or would I be a piece of sculpture that demanded and inspired respect?

All…

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The Hypocrite

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Most of his days he’d been the trumpet of judgement day,

He tried in vain to conjure up a graceful face with a broken smile,

His veins screamed out loud the throbbing guilt that he felt,

And his sad eyes were desperately pleading for help

 

He had turned a blind eye to all the rhythms and flows of living,

For he risked offending his pious image that dwelled in the idyllic religion,

For they would come running with harsh condemnations,

With self blinded faith of words that chained any soul

 

Alone in the darkness, he felt the heavy burden of his heart,

He knew deep inside his life was a labyrinth of endless lies,

All that refused to drop the resistance of projecting own reality,

How much pain could one take? Shutting out self?

 

The idyllic religion has been proven impossible,

As it contains hidden lines and a light not yet born,

It is a heavy burden to bear, just like the truth,

And now his life felt too worn-out, it had failed

 

He was the hypocrite torn between pleading and pride,

He aspired and yearned for the life of the living,

But now…was it too late?

Like a storm, he had blown away the last strands of light,

From the flame of the candle that held his last shreds of hope…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Where Art Thou?

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Tonight I will wait patiently for the clear promising sky,

For the falling star, to make a wish yet again,

The white moon and frozen stars will be my faithful witnesses,

Where Art Thou? Please answer the calls of my heart!

 

I am a dreamer and a believer in endless love,

A dreamer of all the things that we could be, could share!

Am all human and I need love, I need to be loved even more!

Where Art Thou? Am tired of counting the stars alone!

 

The Silly and sometimes annoying games of love are lacking,

In my plain and lonely life that is heavy with expectation,

Am dropping all my resistance and opening my heart for you,

Where Art Thou? There is so much adventure for us to see, to explore!

 

I will wait in this all consuming night that is full of hope,

To feel and taste the freedom, the burden and pain of love,

To share a lifetime moment that is full of innocence and time,

Where Art Thou? Please see through the windows of my soul!

 

We can make time stand still as we give each other endlessly,

That which is enough in the storm and under the still sky,

Undiluted love that will restore order and pride in our chaotic existence,

Where Art Thou? With perfect humility, am down on my knees and hands!

 

With the graying hair on our heads, our nights will forever remain young,

As we explore our intimacy under the golden horizons in our sunset days,

Warm embrace from the love that shields us will forever keep us safe,

Where Art Thou? All my senses merge when I feel my affection for you!

 

 

 

One Question

AP2006_01_MAIN

This inevitable pattern is coloured by a mysterious aura,

To most, it is the trapping web where the condemned are chained,

A vain struggle that is circled with dark certainties,

In it, retreating and turning back is almost impossible

 

These thoughts penetrated deeper and deeper into my mind,

While brief strokes of sunlight accompanied by warm breeze washed my face,

Vanishing all the pale plain colours clogged on my struggling skin,

From the ill-starred and dismal destiny that was beckoning

 

I tried to make heads or tails of this threatening, throbbing one question,

If I was an art, an artistic creation…..what would I be?

Would I be an easy sweet lying piece of poem?

Would I be a beautiful sad song from an old recording?

Would I be a pious painting that accompanied travellers of hypocrisy?

Or would I be a piece of sculpture that demanded and inspired respect?

 

All around me… were beautiful and colourful petals that moved with equal rhythm,

A rhythm that bound them together to their unrestricted nature,

They seemed to surrender inexplicably to the nemesis that claimed them,

Oh! It was a delicate secret of trust to the unknown, to the invincible!