This is our side.

This is our side.

June 3. 410 & Evers.

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This is our side.

This is our side.

June 3. 410 & Evers.

Damascus: Don’t ask strangers

As smoke rises and ash settles in the legendary city of Damascus, the western world is asking if arms and ammunition should be provided to the Syrian rebels to help restore order.

Before addressing the question, it is important to understand that president Bashar Assad is the armed decision maker of the country and the rebels are an informal organization of fighters who wants president Assad’s rule to withdraw.

Those in a position of power are asking if the Rebels should be armed, but there’s no easy solution to that. How does a rebel group armed with the bare minimum that citizens can posses take on a regime that is not afraid to use chemical warfare on its own land? The rebels will require an arsenal fit for an army, and the question ought to be, will the western world provide sufficient weaponry to the rebels for a fair fight?

In my opinion, probably not. It’s easier to provide a portion of what the rebels need, just to extend the resistance, and let people kill one another slowly.

http://www.aljazeera.com/news/middleeast/2013/05/201352803848129653.html

The little ones gigantic presence.

Its not supposed to be like this, it was only yesterday that you were at the back of my mind, and I would never let you get away.

But something happened over night, something strange, something that took me by surprise, and now I cant seem to get you out of my head.

Its incredible how your coarse laughter rings, your cheeks wrinkle, your eyes twink and your chuckles and your giggles.

Through the coarse and thin, after the societal spin, we are each-others. We are sweet-hearts.

I cant seem to take on that role, though I want to. I cant seem to trust myself, though I ought to, you still are a significant part, you indeed are my sweet-heart.

I am confused, I am wrong, I don’t really know where I belong, what am I supposed to do, with a woman as sweet as you? I cant have you, I cant lose you.

What now? as I stare at this map, a couple thousand miles keep us apart. Why am I pondering so hard, Why is my head so fuzzy?

I don’t know of tomorrow, I don’t care about yesterday, right now, its that little structure, with unimaginable flair, only you are on my mind. Only about you I care.

I would bite you, I would pinch you, I would lay my head on your chest, I would hold you in a tight embrace, as I caught a whiff of your hair, After that, my imagination crashes, this girl is better by a thousand bashes.

My case is such, that I can reach but not grip, even though my prize is so close to me, I feel that she will slip. When the time comes and we are again face-to-face, only karma will tell, what we are to taste.

I smell you.

You are the first chill before the snowstorm.

You are the solemnness before misery.

You are the grumble that precedes hunger.

Your presence is felt before you.

You are the goosebumps, followed by chills.

You are the maker and breaker of all of life’s thrills.

You can defy the force of gravity.

You are the force that builds or kills.

You are the nervousness before the question.

You are the suspense before the answer.

Your heart is filled with every counter

You feel like the love of the father.

You are the editor, and you are the writer,

but you have no story.
 
you will publish and press,
 
but, you will never have a theory.

You are there, but you cant be seen.

You are denied every time you deem.

You will catch the essence every time in your palm,

You can lead to, or away from scorn.

I smell you.

You are not success, you are not failure.

You are not confirmed, you are not near.

You do not define what is, and what should be done.

But, you are there to help navigate every turn.

You are somewhere between 11 and 13.

You are expected to be, but are not 12.

Your sum does not add up,
 
your product is not justified.
 
I smell you, 
 
but you have confused my mind.
you have shut me out and blinded my eyes
I hear nothing and I cannot taste
this funny nose is all that is left of my face.
 
 

I smell you.You…

Peace in exchange, For my T.V.

You don’t see, I don’t see,

What this world has done to you and me.

I would like contentment and to be happy.

But i don’t know what my questions ought to be.

I seek comfort in a lady, but she is as volatile as the economy.

My guitar sits here and calls to me, as dust protects her surface.

I feel Guilty.

You are at my throat for materialistic being,

But when I am not around you long for me.

All I want is your voice,

Your words flow by my mind like a harmony.

I am up-creek without a paddle.

You don’t see, I don’t see,

What this world has done to you and me.

You swore to protect us, you swore for our liberty.

In the name of protection, you robbed us of our dignity.

You stand before billions, promising hope and change

Slaying human integrity, Dividing humanity in vain

There is turmoil in the east, Unrest in the west.

Religion, politics, and aggression, seems to sell the best.

When will I realize, That others misery is not my gain.

Everyone lies to me, While my distant brothers are in pain.

You don’t see, I don’t see,

What this world has done to you and me.

I hold high expectations of him, my brother.

I tell him to gather skills, wealth, and things that don’t matter.

Why don’t I realize that it is happiness he craves?

All the answers are there in his living,

all the answers are in the way he behaves.

He Showed me the focus, He showed me the spin.

He showed me how losing does not prevent a win.

He learned from my mistakes, He grew as the perfect example.

He prevents the lives of others, ending up in shambles.

You don’t see, I don’t see,

what this world has done to you and me.

The ones I ignored, once they told me,

Open your heart, and lose your ego (If you have any).

Good teachings will walk to you, followed by tranquillity.

The thirst for knowledge will make you a man.

Losing the Devil, will bring you God’s hand.

You don’t see, I don’t see,

What this world is doing to you and me…Image

Stone cold