Bunguswa Writes.

Laugh, and the world laughs with you; Weep, and you weep alone; For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth, But has trouble enough of its own. Sing, and the hills will answer; Sigh, it is lost on the air; The echoes bound to a joyful sound, But shrink from voicing care. Rejoice, and men will seek you; Grieve, and they turn and go; They want full measure of all your pleasure, But they do not need your woe. Be glad, and your friends are many; Be sad, and you lose them all,— There are none to decline your nectared wine, But alone you must drink life’s gall. Feast, and your halls are crowded; Fast, and the world goes by. Succeed and give, and it helps you live, But no man can help you die. There is room in the halls of pleasure For a large and lordly train, But one by one we must all file on Through the narrow aisles of pain. ©Bunguswa™

When in disgrace with what morrow holds, burn not the bridge lest it's dawn- nor chop off the fins and drawn, look up in the days yonder, and embrace what life upholds. Choke not from the bonfire; nor cling to a stone that builds not, or smile with bullets that frown when hot- only to devour and defer our life's desire. Deep waters kill when beckoned, the stillness of the flow carries utmost frustration- that gallops life without satisfaction, and more when for long it's been abandoned. Relight the candle of empathy in your heart, right, left and centre you'll never hurt. © Bunguswa ™

I'll never forget I'll always remember You down on one knee Asking forever We didn't quite make it Life had other plans Now I'm here without you And you've crossed the sands Where life and death merge  The divide etched in stone You went on without me And left me alone It is what it is And was what it was And none of it matters It's just a because That has no real answer Ripped into two One violent ending Left without you Now each day I breathe Each breath I take I think about you And the love that we'd make I'll always miss you Until you take me home And I'll make it mean something Each day that you're gone I'll write the sonnets I'll pour out the words I'll write of our ending And all that came first Guitars and tarot cards Our story lives on Each day I'm here Each day you're gone Happy Love You Day, baby From now till forever I'll never forget I'll always remember. ©Bunguswa™

My dear children, let's gather at the fire place, and chew this bone that binds us in one piece.  The moon is slagishly disappearing on us, with the dullness of each minute that passes. Dear sons and daughters under the moon, hunger bites as we munch hours with our words, shrunk by the stings of cold in anticipation, for our papa and  warriors out for a hunt. The moon is fading away. So are our expectations, of morrow° for a meal promised. The warriors aren't returning, and time pierces through to morning, cuddling us to utter stooges of hunger and pain. Papa returns pot-bellied, embellished, with a fat chick. A bad day it was in the field he says, belching with fullness of life- but on our sides, breakable bones are counted. Tomorrow will be a good day my sons, papa says, and the warriors in unison nods, to unrhythmical whims of papa. Accustomed they are, to clapping and nodding, Yes, to laughing and smiling; at his jokes not so expensive. Arise dear sons and daug...

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