BE THE BEST OF WHATEVER YOU ARE

If you can’t be a pine on top of the hill,
Be a scrub in the valley – but be
The best little scrub by the side of the hill,
Be a bush, if you cannot be a tree.

If you cannot be a bush, be a bit of the grass
And some highway happier make
If you cannot be a Muskier then just be a bass,
But, the loveliest bass in the lake!

We cannot all be captains; we have to be crew,
There is something for all of us here,
There is a big work to do and there is lesser to do
The task we must do is the near

If you cannot be a highway, then just be a trail
If you cannot be the sun, be a star;
It is not by the size that you win or you fail-
Be the best of WHATEVER YOU ARE.

By Douglas Malloch (American Poet)

Love Poem 1

Kissing is a habit
Fucking is a game
Guys get all the pleasure
Girls get all the pain
The guy says I love you
You believe its true
But when your tummy starts to swell,
He says 'to hell with you'
10 minutes of pleasure
9 months in pain
3 days in hospital
A baby without a name
The baby is a bastard
The mother is a whore
This never wouldn't have happened
If the rubber wouldn't have torn

WORDS OF WISDOM

• Where the mind is without fear

……and the head is held high,

• Where the Knowledge is lent free
• Where the world has not been

……broken up by narrow domestic walls:

• Where the words come out,

………from the depth of truth:

• Where tireless striving stretches

………its arms towards perfection:

• Where the clear stream of reason

……….has not lost its way into

……….dreary sand of dead habit.

• Where the mind is led forward

……….the never widening thought

……….and action

• Into that heaven of freedom,

………let my COUNTRY AWAKE.

By RABINDRANATH TAGORE.

SIN BEYOND REDEMPTION

The blind desire for the baby boy,
Brings them to the sound machine,
Blinking dot on the screen,
Is the heart, which can’t even scream.

The pious Hippocratic oath,
To protect the human life,
Is defeated,
When the protector stands affront,
The mother to be, of the female baby to be.

As the instruments make the tinkling sound,
He wears the gloves for assault,
The baby asleep in the womb,
The womb,
Which will become the tomb, from now.

The blood effusing out from the vault,
Smears the surgeon’s hand,
Testifies the murderous attack,
On the baby, still to be born.

Saith the (in) human desire,
Kill the baby for the son,
Do they heal the humanity,
Or do they commit the feticide for money.