The murkiest assortment

A knickknack box

With a leech on its flap,

A horn of a fox

And a crumpled cap.

 

A five bucks coin,

A plate and a cup,    

A thong for a loin

    And a mat for a nap.

 

Food and shelter,

Lust and life.

All in one

With luck and strife.

 

Simple tastes

Or thrifty living

I know not

It's a stealthy viewing

 

The pilgrim of Sansara

Comprises these,

Myriad Sankara

In different degrees.

War, Peace and love (Love lessons learnt from 2002 – 2004 ceasefire agreement)

Hidden among the lost lives

Lied living lies.

Ridden amidst the cross fights

Cried both sides.

 

Ceased with a dazed ease

Leaderships appeased

Pleased with the leased bleeds

Talks did proceed.

 

The fame and names played a game

Sans a tinge of shame

The pain and brains took the aim

Never to lose again.

 

Wasted home-made waists(Absolutely not for hard use and/ or home-use)

In haist to be in the Wild Wild West

They cherish their dreams in force-worn breasts

To groom the groins of wealth with zest

They nestle the nozzle for a blood-stained crest.

 

The smiling lips betray their hopes,

The craidling teats portray their slopes,

The grinding hips resonate their tears

While the scarlet sheets emanate their fears.

 

Bends and curves plus hills and falls

Mend their way for the clubby-hubby waltz

Tamed and lamed in one-way roles

Lives are lived for rock 'n' roles

 

Kitties for some and cookies for some,

Chewed and licked like nooky-house gum

Pinched and slapped cheeks made-up plum

one-night wives may chunk their chum

 

Silent bridal seas astray

Shown no marks of the boats that sway

Throne overboard with a price to pay

Forever they live their lives' last day.

 

Modeled figures lack models for life

Whim and vigor just melt with the stripe

Jingling haggles swop slots for a wife

Untoled tales stuck still in the windpipe

 

Athenian sons of the fancied lineage,

Saddle the horses for the divine passage

Fairies alight at the end of their hemorrhage

Chassed for their shares at Vegas's hermitage.

Done and Dusted:->(an audacious account of a bridegroom)

The long awaited moon

Has thus taken its seet

In the starry sky

Right above our room

 

My lovely young bride

Along with her pride

Takes her time

To show me all she's got.

 

The stage is set

The eyes are met

But alas! I fret

the night ain't perfect.

 

I can't align

My mind's design

Within her figure

That lacks more vigor

 

In fact our hearts

Were the perfect match

Yet my eyes craved

For more in her.

 

To hold tight

I yearned for sleek hips

To tenderly touch

I wanted coiled hair

Oh poor dear

Shan't shed a tear

But with her failed gear

I'll only be her fear.

 

How can I juxtapose

Her plain-Jane figure

with the physiques that made me froze

filled with lust and vigor

 

It wasn't her,

my eyes wanted most

But it was her ,

Who was drawn to me so close.

 

I was told that she ditched

A mad goggle-eyed fool

With whom she saw no future

Which she neither shall have with me.

 

It's not my fault

She made her own snare

To trap us both

in an undue share.

 

 

Everything in my power

I did to turn her down

And yet none could cover

Her love that bore my crown.

 

By the grace of all we married

Never to keep it long

the morrow that sun shall carry

will tell her I've long gone.

Ode to the master-spinner and / or the nervous eleventh

The decision was yours

To gently retire

From your celebrated foothold

In the "gentlemen's sport";


 
Your eight-hundredth wonder

Made your mark

to glow in gold

In the ancient scrolls of imperial sport.


 
We shan't forget

The way you bore

The vicious stare of Darrell Hair

So quietly and gently, once upon a time.


 
Your innocent and affable smile

remained the same

in times of joy and merriment

as well as in times of bewilderment


 
These lines shan't be an elegy

For retired Murali

Who still smiles

in our test-cricket dream.


 
Being the constant eleventh

In the batting lineup

Your magic wrist made for spinning

Worked nervous wonders


 
You invented,

Your own fours and sixes

To save our souls

In nearly lost battles.


 
Despite the bars of ethnicity

Every Sri Lankan cricket fan

Loved you, adored you

and Ignored your nationality.


 
And that's how in a way

You made the bridge of piece

Among the quarreling nations

At least in cricket.


 
So let me crown thee

The sporty emblem

of peace and harmony

in the purl of east, the rising miracle of Asia.


 

 

 

Glory of the Sri Lankan History in a Nutshell

url=http://www.imagesofasia.com/gadget/igoogle/srilanka.xml&synd=open&w=300&h=290&title=Old+Sri+Lanka&border=%23ffffff%7C3px%2C1px+solid+%23999999

The Harvest of Freedom

They've ripped their "crops"

The "first" after those years of tears

Fresh and partly alive

Just like their blooming hopes and wishes.


 
While those happy hunters;

The gifted earls of a blue paradise

Celebrate their fresh freedom,

The "harvest" loses the final struggle

Gradually as their territory shrinks.


 
The sides have been flipped

From land to the waters,

from the runners to the swimmers.

The ring of ever-shrinking territory.


 
In cities they marvel,

Admire and taste

The victory, the freedom,

the tears and even life

Anthum of an Outcast

"Neither here nor there"

That's how it sounds like;

That's how it smells like;

That's how it tastes like…

 

But does it really…

seem like that?

Does it really

Matter to you?

 

The outcaste imagines you mumble…

"mmm well… not really"

In your rat race you stumble

And you lose the links you cherished so dearly.

 

The mouth-watering carrots

That your all mighty(s) hath hung beyond your reach,

Hoist you above other parrots

Whose envy you win with your speech

 

When your faculties help you no more

To quench their thirst of lip service,

A shocking revelation shudders your core

When you realize that your days are numbered.

 

An outcast they call you hence

At first it'll make no sense

By the time you reach your fence

You'll learn it all in every sense.

From: So-called Nonentities To: Nigas and Whites who rule the world

 

 

"Democracy is a mockery"

Nobody can deny

Where? It's everywhere!

Nobody can deny

 

Leaches on the mattresses

Nigas in the sky-scrapers

All mighty whity fans

Rock and roll the nigas' cans.

 

To call us morons

Do you dare?

To say "Blame it on me"

Do you care?

 

You worry about some stones

Are they mightier than your nukes?

You query about Buddhist teachings

Have we slandered yours?

 

Keep your asses

Off our matters;

Cause you were toddling

At the time we were shimmering

 

 

Not in your neo-colonization;

But in human civilization.

 

Note:

 

These thoughts were aroused by the blog-post and related comments which can be reached via the following URL

 

http://new.music.yahoo.com/blogs/hiphopmediatraining/253602/akon-sexy-chick-video-considered-blasphemous-to-buddhists-sri-lankan-visa-denied/?page=2#comments

No-Job Company

 

 

They wait and pray for an unknown angel,

An angel who breeds loads of pennies.

In those picketing dreams they see their angel

With the jingling and glistening pennies.

 

"The hand-to-mouth existence" of which they might have learned;

Is the only option left for some.

The others whose parents spend the pittance they'd earned,

Upon those efforts with just no out come.

 

With heavy hearts which lack consciences,

They play their parts in crowded streets

In public places they offer services,

Which cause the cops reach banging heats.

 

In the elecrtion-summer they get some sweets,

That make them trapped through their ecstatic senses

And of course they've to pay for those sweets,

With a cross that makes them forever losers.

 

There's no difference in the final outcome,

Cause both parties get a hearty laugh.

Though the company gets no income

The rates and statistics remain high

 

There lies the wonderful verity

Hidden in an unidentified global network

The company marked in the history of humanity

Expands further like a divine woodwork

New milestones

 

"Second to none" I've heard they say.

If you haven't, scowl at me you may.

Whatever the things we strongly believe,

May be the things they've told to deceive.

 

Is it only us who have been fed thus?

Is it only us who are to be tricked thus?

Aren't we supposed to pass them on?

So that the future minds to will be gone

 

Efficiency, productivity and all this bluff.

Strategies and management just make them all stuffed.

It's this 'time' who does the trick

None can stop it from slipping it within a click.

 

"Old is gold" so does the 'time'.

All one wants is just the 'time'

Many to be achieved and more to be lost

Few may win but many get lost.

What’s wrong?

“The dear departed” before “The Proposal”;
O level rubbish, haunts me still
But just as two phrases… hmm yeah, phrases,
Now they make sense within curly brazes.


Some hearts are to be offered,
And the others are to be earned
Aren’t there any for sale?
Does my question drive you pale?

If the peace can be bought and sold,
If the world can be put in a mold
Why can’t the hearts be bartered
Shouldn’t norms be re-smarted?

Plenty of Space for Creative Minds to Express themselves in Their Own Way

Hi there,

I decided to take a creative turn in 2010
not alone;
on my own,
But with you all.

Don't let the creative thoughts that blossom within you all of a sudden,
to vanish like bubbles.
But instead,
Rush to your PC
or simply take your Mo Phonie,
key it all
and send it up here

Via Email : creative.quills@gmail.com
Via text: +94715584406
Awaiting your creative thoughts
T. G. J. Rukmal

(Blog Admin)