Another Socialist makes history...

As I expressed cheerful sentiments on a newly elected socialist President,
a pal expressed that I was only pleased because, in her view, I "always root
for the underdog in every race."
Was that true? I wondered. I thought I was merely praising a deserving winner
because a socialist could do more for the ordinary people than an incumbent
right-wing contender?
And then I reflected on the many aspirants in the past who had gained my endorsement...
Oh well, I thought, another underdog makes history.

Decorum

Mama embedded this noun into our spirits before we could utter it.
She taught us that decorum was correct conduct.
"Say please and thank you," she would remind us often.

Mama planted this universal seed inside our hearts before we could spell it.
She disciplined us dearly on decent demeanour.
"Stop frowning and smile," she would scold.

My mother stitched this attribute in our conscience before we could comprehend it.
She schooled us genially on good graces.
"Offer the gentleman a glass of water." Yes, kindness was my Mumsy's craft.

You see, my loving mother instilled this vitamin in our souls even before we matured.
Mummy pressed on frequently about the importance of positive presence.
"Let everybody have something good to say about you," she would preach during our daily devotion.
For the fear of foolery founded Mama's school of etiquette.
No one dared call her gems classless creatures.

“I Will Wait…for You” — Janette Ikz

Thankful Friday

I have to jet out in a few minutes so I will make this quick. Today is "thankful friday" so I will simply list the things I'm thankful for. I got this idea whilst reading my good friend Calian's blog (Check out her blog).

So today I'm thankful for...

- For my life: I never take that for granted. Every morning I remember to thank God for the gift of life. I have witnessed people go through hell in this journey and I always wonder what happened and what went wrong. I see my self as disciplined and I try to live a spiritual life and the people in my life always steer me towards the right path. I'm also happy I'm a confident and strong-minded person so I have never been the kind to be affected by peer pressure.
- My family - enough said
- Other loved ones.
- MY PARENTS - I had to separate this. Lol (refer to point one)
- God's blessing. It's too much to list.

Ok I have to rush out. I'm travelling today and I don't want to miss my train (and flight).

Have a great weekend everyone.

"Just do it"

procrastination [proh-kras-tuh-ney-shuhn, pruh-]

 noun

the act or habit of procrastinating, or putting off or delaying, especially something requiring immediate attention: Eg: She was smart,but her constant procrastination led her to be late with almost every assignment.

Psychologists believe procrastinators often say they "work better under pressure" as a way of justifying putting things off.

Source:http://dictionary.com

Picture credit: http://runeatrepeat.com

Tales of a Troubled Mother

They say the eyes are the window to the soul.
For the troubled mother, her soul rests on her sleeve,
for her eyes reveals not what she wants hidden.
Pretentious to please the perpetrators of her pain,
she keeps her tiles untarnished.
A prayer full of piety to conceal a scattered mind;
a mind torn between belief and scepticism,
relief and pessimism,
deceit and realism,
grief and optimism.
But her eyes displays not her shadowed soul,
or her desire for diminished lows.
Instead, her face will smile,
her arms will embrace,
her garments will speak on her behalf
whilst her soul remains misty,
until she's given back her most priced possession.

''they'll come through your womb but not be coming from you
they will be with you, but they do not belong to you
you can give them your love but not your thoughts cause they'll arrive with their own hearts'' - Jason Mraz (God rests in Reason) 

Adam's Apples

Beneath his droopy dim eyes lies his penchant for the paper,

A shared gaze draws him near as he bolts past his brother,

Rippled sweat roams rapidly on his face 

and betrays him by revealing his pace.

The cold lucid glass feels the warmth of his breath 

as the carefully knotted polythene strangles ten mahogany fingers.

He fixes his pleading pupils and flashes his pearly whites with tact.

Rattling prices as though a rhythmic routine,

his legs quiver as if time has been unkind.

She focuses on the fleeting movement of his famished mouth;

and spies misplaced saliva which sells him out.

Her lips part as muted words wander through his streets.

Streets created for his labour like Adam in Eden,

with no suitable helper to bear a burden.

Green-lights flash with no trade made,

and dashed hopes form across his face as distace fades.

She's whiffed-off wishing she plucked a piece of Adam's apples.