“I will stop laughingâ€¦ â€¦..Lest I become mad… This is he on a happy state Bothering not about the world Facing whatever faces him Laughing and jumping all alone Where he sits, mocks and laughs Those he sees and those unseen. Enjoy the heats of day all alone The cold of harmattan his friend has come All alone in cold he stays With long finger-nails and hair His body as white as wool Due to scratches all day long. Those that please give him things Those without, maintain their steps All alone he keeps the watch All alone he guards the mart He sells and buys alone With course and noise all in mouth. Plays and dances, all in him Minding not his nakedness Tears his clothes to make his mind Wrappers, his shirt has turn to be. Risks of life lie in him Hunger and thirst he quenches alone When he tries to see at all What man in pity turns to be. Hospital, chemist, not for him Wounds and sores deal with him Driven away at all he goes Seen to people as man that is mad Asking not why in such a state Picking a thrown away bone,and chased by men He runs and runs and hits a car Speeding vehicles bounced on him All his body scatters on tar. Pitied more by all that see Shocks and pity had seized them there Cry and lament for the mad man Driven-rejected becomes important With pieces of bone resting in mouth He turns to be a brother of one How the world seems to man And how the man seems to the world And how the both seem to be.
When we volunteer,We become more aware,We become more active,We become more productive,We become more inspiring,We become more interesting. In brief,If you volunteer,You will be the winner,Not just a consumer! With Codewit,I volunteered last year,Without any fear.Because I knew that, By doing so,The world would grow,And away people would throwTheir false ideasOn volunteering. So, let’s say […]
Somewhere it appears Beyond the thought of man Can only imaginarily described “As” and “like” the qualifying words Of this heaven that be. A golden sanded soil of mirrored look With silver coated glasses That reflect the light from self Direct from the builder’s body A hope for every bettering. Your condusive aroma calls For more concentration unto you A living place with every lively […]
My Father When I was … Four years old: My daddy can do anything. Five years old: My daddy knows a whole lot. Six years old: My dad is smarter than your dad. Eight years old: My dad doesn’t know exactly everything. Ten years old: In the olden days, when my dad grew up, things […]