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Miranda #4

“I miss her. Mostly I miss my broken heart. Everyday, It’s another morning, sun came out, it’s the usual, no sweet words, no kisses. I won’t know.. what she is going through now. I guess.. I never know!

I stop looking for her in other girls, i can promise you it will never happen again. Still… I… I..” With the wetness on my cheeks i can touch my pain.

“Have you ever cried?” I smiled at her.

“I find good witches and bad witches. But’ I must confess most of the witches i have ever loved were respectable, indeed, kind with their actions. I almost cried.. because of them, but then only i remember how expensive my mascara is!!” She show me how sincere and careful one could be with her words.

Then she started singing a hunting song, tunelessly. And I’m about to sink in to each letters of her…

We were all

So damn lost

So damn blind

All looking for meaning

They will never never find.

I know, a young girl

In a small town

All she think about is

To get on a plane

Out of this hell.

How many times…

You sad and still smiled.

How many times…

You toil to feel the cold rain.

How many times…

You couldn’t look to a eye.

How many times…

You hated goodbyes

How many times…

You were dead.

How many times…

If you could do it again

I would gladly make

My same choices again.

And if I did, would

You still have left?

No regrets?

I stood as still as statue

Stared through the window

Thousand stars sinking

Eyes glowing in moonlight.

I whisper…

How could you gone;

When I needed you most.

Feel your love.. a love –

Stronger than time.

I feel like mis-alligned all my answers, and noticed when she got that last question for me. “Are you hoping?” She said. It is unanswerable. Answer is inside, reflected in the silence.

She laugh out loud. She laugh out again. Hugged me tightly. She then kissed on my chest.

“Hey dooli, Your redneck Airbus… This is his car shop” She pointed a car shed right behind me.

“Mm” I rumbled.

She pushed me in to the shed with all her muscle power and started walking. Not even a goodbye!

“I’m going back today” I never said. May be she never cares.

I wouldn’t wait for her to off my site. I walked in to the shed, never turned back. Somehow she cultivated a bohemian me.

I saw a girl. The way she moved, changed the way I see the world.

Miranda

© 2018 Nagstrong12

All Rights Reserved

[all the images are taken from pinterest.com]

Miranda #3

The purpose of my visit was done. Some pure joyful days.. especially Mad Boingus. The peoples with salt on their heart. I wish to say a ‘good bye’ to Miranda. With a struggle to find a good portable final word i walked down the stairs.

She is the best part of Boingus, but’ i don’t know which part of Boingus. I don’t know whom to ask. I know nothing!! Still there is some feelings that drive me to say that odd good-bye. I meet people who see them in very large playoff in a gambling game, especially the largest available. Uhh.. then i meet her. Charming careless girl.

I walk along the street, it will lead you to B-Square market. Mr. Airbus is running an automobile shop there. May be he knows something about her. While walking, i notice the bumper stickers on many cars that read something like “my other car is broomstick”. Well no wonder!! this is MAD Boingus.

The billowing clouds welcomed me to the B-Squre market. The market is famous for the warm mediocre quality of food, endless.. endless amount of coffee, the essential meet lover’s skillet and notable Lapis lazuli ornaments..

I slowly walked through the market. And reached a impossible – to – operate crane, probably at the centre of market. The steam crane has a beast structure – majestic appearance. I look straight through, between the latticed segmented boom, I sensed her, Miranda!! What a mechanical advantage!!!

I take a breath and walked to her with a desire of ‘hi’. She smiled as she noticed me. Her lips glowing in lanolin derivatives oils. A yoga pants and pony tail. She is a gallery owner, selling her own paintings there. Rendered in soft washes of water colour, her illustrations charmingly capture the beauty and intimacy of young couple with a grand gesture of love.

“So you are an awesome painter” I smiled.

“Hmm.. some days i paint all day long. Some days i sell my art, so can afford to eat” She replied with zero pride.

As a matter of fact I don’t know what to speak next. I simply go through her paintings. My mind is manipulating. Still I can’t offer a good word.

“Why do you come here?” She sound like halt! Who come here, state your business!!

“Because I.. I come.. I want to meet Mr. Airbus!!” Yes I blundered.

Ahh! He is probably in the Arc door. Let’s Go.. “ She said in a platonic sense. Twist after twist, she is coming with me!! Well I followed her.

“How is your day?” I asked.

“And when do you left yesterday?” She played it by ear.

“Sooner than you think” I improvised.

“Hell ya.. ” She retorted. “Then why you come mahn.. Is your mumma asked to buy sweets in the taphouse??”

“No! I won’t prefer parties. I feel overwhelmed in the presence of strangers noisily gathering around me” I replied firmly.

“Thinking kills partying” She dejected.

“Not a big secret, Of course, Letting go and being crazy is partying. I won’t love it to pull my mundane logicality” I replied again.

“Ooh gosh! Not sure how I’m supposed to feel about you. Avenged? Proud??Haha ” Her frown turned into a
laugh like she saw a clown.

“Ummm….. Lemme tell you!” I said. “But’ tell me your conspiracy theory”.

“how much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood!” She dashed some words.

“What??” I goggle whether she’s chewing fire or what.

“how much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood!” She repeat.

“Go!! and eat some SAND” I pushed on her face.

“Okey, and tell me how much sand you can eat? Mm.. Mmm”

“Huhu! I eat sand. I can even eat homework eating unicorn. Humm.. “

“Really!! I love unicorn.. Okey tell me your sixth favorite animal?

“Sixth, JELLY FISH!!” I bite my teeth.

“Do jelly fish got knees? How many how many

“Mm. Square root of negative four” Before she invent next muck, I closed her mouth tightly.

“I’m hungry. Please..” I hissed on her ears. She tap on my wrist, signaling a promise of being good girl.

“Do you like hot cheetos with mango pickle” She continued immediately after parole.

“Uhh! Can you stop this. Please….. ” Finally I apologized for nothing.

“Okey” She said. ” But’ tell me the weird place you have peeeeeed.. hahhaha!” She laugh out loud.

She run through the yellow street. No one cared of the pretty girl and handsome hulk. I chased her. It’s definitely OK to look at pretty girl here! She saw me laughed. We laughed…

She looked, why I’m smiling.

I smiled, why she is looking.

We whispered “lost love”

Miranda #2

The cold winter night made my parachute oil frozen to it’s soul in the bottle. My fuzz was in the air dancing in party mode. Today there a party in Bold Sphere street, Mr. Airbus was so excited about that it. I wish to make a night walk. I love night walks. Night time is the glorious time of universe.. She walk with a moon in her hand and there is something haunting in the moonlight.

Mad Boingus is not a hedonistic pleasure place of bikini girls dancing on the beach and partying the night away in a psychedelically lit disco. But’… yes the city is round the clock nightlife with vibrant live music scenes.. singular cuisines.. And the mad people who say “you could never buy the music in the store”.

After a pleasure walk I stepped into the pie – diagram area, that girl was sitting right on there at the point where my eyes first blinked!

announcement :

Nearly 25 years after the release of it’s eponymous Blue album, Weezer is still enjoying the success and rocking the crowds.. Currently the band is touring behind it’s eleventh audio album…

Woo… Yeah… Wooo yeah.. Weezer!! Weezer!! Weezer!!.. “

Every one is on their feet. Cheers, whistles, colour papers, champagne… But the girl look calm. I thought she must be in some sore, sitting, non-moving. She is like wearing a mixture of weird cloths and mix of different fashions together with a cup of champagne on the table, unattended. No wonder!! If she is a cynical too.

I wish i could talk to her, little awkward though. I take a glass of white sparkling wine just for the heck of it and moved to her.

Nice dress” I said.

Rainbow bowler hat yea!!” She sound like a punk rock to me.

I feel like you are carrying a beautiful name” I heartily exclaimed.

Miranda!! My name.. ” she mumbled.

Haha.. look around there’s so many Evans here” I said. “Look at that bunch of Aussie backpackers… Pretty cool guys

Yea true! Just some load of emo shit” she bellowed.

Ohh? So sonic! You could call it youth” I said while taking my seat.

We laughed and she move her cup of champagne towards me – offering??

“Cheers!!!”

She take some sips after making that tling sound with my glass. Uhhh.. so finally i managed to lick at the edge of glass.

So you don’t drink?” She said grimly.

I smiled. She nodded and grab my ugly mustache, twisting – twisting – twisting and tangled it. May be boingus way of punishment to temperance, I guess.

“Why won’t you join the party” I said.

” Ohh do you want me to join. Mmm..Mmm… ” she improvised.

I nodded be like i want see what you are going to do. She then stand tall on the chair and raise the quarter filled cup in the air.

“Uhhu-hhahha-hhoooh!!! This isn’t old weezer, this doesn’t sound like PINKERTON!” She nearly barked there. I slowly stand up from the chair and stared at her. She bounced from the chair and tapped on my butt.

“Hhaa.. when it comes to hitting chicks here, it does matter... when you are brown” she giggled and immersed in to the Tsunami of vibrants.

Airbus was wrong. She is not a waster. She is flamboyant, an exuberant girl..

Miranda #1

Today as usual, I’m searching in another city to get some shitting papers signed. I live like a damn auto corrected word in the world of android phones. Peoples often come to my life with a rally of opinions. But all I just want is to remote myself from every human I know. The truth I know is nobody can love you as much as you. But’ you can’t live loving yourself alone for a long time.. What should I do??

This is City of Mad Boeingus. My first morning here, far better than usual. No busy people living here. Happy and beautiful. Embodying their festive spirit, I remember Maradi gras, the late – winter carnival famed for raucous costumed parades and street parties. But sometimes it is gay and sucks!

Gentle breeze, a carafe full of coffee, me and Mr. Airbus. We were sitting at the terrace of the quarters. Mr. Airbus is twice older than me, a family man. He is arranging the things here for me. The best part about him is that he doesn’t talk much – A very best part. We were whirling around a decent silence and that happened!!

How do yu reckon yur mo&* feels wen people say stuff like that? Hey yu fat ba#* come here

A murder scream hit me, I’m standing at the top of my phone. I just whatsapp how good my morning is and that bipolar female high pitch just spit at my wisdom. Then I saw a girl, she is quarrelling around bulky guys.

Is she is a FEMINIST??” I asked.

Phe-Men-Ist” Airbus wondered like what kind of word is that.

Umm.. nothing nothing!” I unbiased that talk.

I’m actually a quasi – normal person. Not an antique, but too old to be considered as modern. On the other hand, she seemed to be the other pole of mine. “Waster” – Airbus referred her like that, I don’t know why. She carries a air of more bohemian style. I saw her for couple of times, but every time when I encounter her today, my mind was like RUN don’t just walk away hehe..

bohemian

However i was like choose not to met with people, prefer to have a freedom of physical distance. It’s not that people are very oppressive. I usually not make friends. More often than not I’m adopted by another extrovert friend…

I am grateful for them, and for their feeling of being connected with me. My gratitude is nothing spiritual, spiritually my mind is a dump. Putting me in someone’s focal point and disappointed of being not focussed is damn thing. Ugly.

I find there is much joy in dim-light-darkness, my mental to-do lead me to the morbific thoughts in black and white existence. Yeah… Once i led myself to some of the deepest and most consuming feeling of happiness..

“She hold my hand, take me to the garden, we smiled listen to the birds, she always hugged me, i always told her my love”

Things never be the same again. Somehow I have able to taking all the pieces with me and no matter why i carry them. Bohemian?

Let me die – Letter to good friend

Dear good friend,

I still remember your old last words. Now i am going to say that again… “I should change this sadness or escape it before that”. I feel like you won’t wish to come to me again. You will never again pretend to have forgot to love me. It’s okey.

Now.. Every single day, it become a fight. Do i want to live? I don’t know! Life is not fair, a bad dream. And death sought of wake me up. Why do i fear death? She is a wonderful phenomenon. The end of many…

I’m loving her, will embrace her tomorrow if she will not come in me. I go with her to the world of peace or let her die with me in my world. Haha death is dead too for me.

Then.. then there is nothing! Memorize my name. Forgot who i am and my damn memories. I may meet you again in any of your dream. Have a night out of your sleep.

Let me sleep. Light the candles and burn the incense around my bed. Cover my body and eyes with jasmine and rose..

With love

Your less-good friend.

I make no memories

Life is a long story about how you died. My story has started already.

I born. Then came to do all the hard work here on the earth to make thousands of memories. Die one day.

The weird thing is that i hate all this labour toil under the hot sun. The sun has burned my skin. I am so dark. Unlovable… Mine is a life in the life of the hailstones of the hailstones. All the thousand memories seems so empty. Blossom beyond blossoming i saw no flower, no spring..

Some souls never saved in memory. They are to be remembered everyday. They are loved and admired everyday. May i held on; hug you tightly and not let you go. But’ turn your eyes away. Just overcome me. Do not stare at me, i am so dark. Unlovable..

She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes
– Lord Byron

Anbe Shivamagum

For obvious reasons it is no wonder the planet and it’s people are written in pain. You’re one of those people, who believe in some fictional friend in the heaven and his invisible advocates.

Suffering has human form on earth. Suffering is seen as a part of living until we reach moksha.

Aham is the supreme i awareness!

Shivam is liberation!!

Shivam is patron of death and destruction. Truly nothing is destructed, but reincarnation of the state of mind. Between the end of one thought and beginning of other, Shivam exist as a female silence. Shivam embodies her existence.

She is Shivam. She can’t condemn me; supreme Shiva doesn’t believe in heaven or a hell to put me in. In her elegance, my life shine with pure calmness. In her devotion, I reach moksha..

Shivam is love…

Anbe Shivamagum..

Rastafarian

I drink water. I get sunlight. I am just a herb with complex emotions..

Gloomed dreadlocks. Soot of cannabis. My kind of war-everywhere philosophy. But everything is not fine. I choose to smoke the weed simply because it is black man’s faith. I do respect my body and what it is.

God, the cause of all, is one. I saw my god in red-yellow-green stain. The symbol of martyrdom of past rastafari

Africa… my version of Zion. She is my paradise on the earth. I still remember her in a essay of poignant smile. One day i return to her, holding our emotional warmth that they take away from us.

The corrupt Babylonian system down pressed her. Colonialism separated us. One great love is killed diplomatically. Life being a total fear fest choreographed completely in a downward Oscar slavery.

One day everything will be fine. One day she is going to have so much of self love and i never settle her for anything less than what she deserves. I’m a crying cub. Rastafarian!!

Your wound is probably not your fault, but your healing is your responsibility

– Denice Frohman