Posted by akhandsi on August 22, 2016 · Leave a Comment
If only we were similar, you and me I would think of a better world And in this moment of disparity I would be something else than the dirt Here to the world listening to us I have a question, question I must What are we? Bones, flesh or a soul? Twisted? Corrupted? Insanely bold? … Continue reading →
Filed under Poetry · Tagged with blood, bold, bones, burn, corrupted, dirt, five, flesh, hatred, innocence, insane, life, peace, Question, red, sledged, soul, twisted, world
Posted by akhandsi on October 21, 2015 · Leave a Comment
They say we are traditional In the world full of hatred we are the angels Dreamers, innovators and what not But my fellow human, you are nothing but a bot Stuck in the loop of right and wrong, your soul has already far gone How does it matter if you are smart? To live a … Continue reading →
Filed under Poetry · Tagged with boast, dreamers, ego, existene, Father, heavenly, human-rights, innovators, kind, life, poor, power, pure heart, purpose, Question, river, Selfishness, soul, stubbornness, survival, swimming, traditional
Posted by akhandsi on February 25, 2013 · 6 Comments
Blood runs from her nose to her neck, unaware what is going on I run up to call reception for help. “I have an emergency, there is a little girl who is bleeding in my room,” I yell “I am her dad? What is she talking about? How could that be possible? I never had … Continue reading →
Filed under Uncategorized · Tagged with abortion, angel, brain tumor, cartoonist, Child, dad, death, Family, Father, kid, Lisa, Lisa Simpson, love, marriage, opinion, Parent, Question, relationship, Short Story
Posted by akhandsi on February 7, 2013 · 2 Comments
Something horrible was going on with me, as it was a bad dream. I kept walking to the exit and as soon as I crossed the gate, I looked around for a cab. After I noticed a cab driving towards me, I waived my hand. The cab stopped and as the driver helped me by taking my luggage and putting them on the … Continue reading →
Filed under Uncategorized · Tagged with Base on balls, beauty, blood, crazy driver, london, love, Marriott International, old buildings, Question, River Thames, Short Story, Taxi Driver, Taxicab, terrifying experience, The Cab, travel
