Little dreams

Little men with little dreams
all struggling to make some sense
of their life that offers them no respite
and coming to terms with pain and pretense

How things do matter no-one understands
but all jump right in with half a stance
survival is the call of the day
Whether they will succeed is part of chance

Never giving even a passing thought
To what we were born to be and what's our core
of what would have made us happier
and make us love ourselves and our work just a tinge more

and so life moves on
With a thousand sorrows
and we turn out to be a survivor
with no tomorrow

Not that we give a damn to the moment
Just half-glad that we are still half-alive
We'd rather fill ourselves with longing
Than to dream a dream and really strive

Just a shoddy look-a-like
of all what we could have been
All we try is to size our goals with every failing
To match an uncertain future
that we wish remain forever unseen

Randomica !!

the nothingness in the mind
the tiredness of sleep
and the wisdom of giving up
is all similar ;
try as you may
you get a level higher
and come down faster than a
speeding train;
the mind is simply dumb in dealing with hollowness;
and sharp enough to understand tricks for distraction,
simply though we are more eager in losing
than understand the joy in winning
its so simple to be moderate and
so delightful to be a loser
more or less mind realises that
heart has nothing to keep it interested forever
the hollowness is used up for creating a
deep vaccuum which means the mind can play more games
the tired heart loses to the powerful mind
as happiness loses to boredom
as simplicity loses to complexity
all means lead to point when all
die internal deaths
while the masquerade of life must
not fade
internally though there's no interest
no hope no life no sleep
while externally the mind tries to
reason out all doom as peace
and when nothing matters
nothingness comes costly
we spend all our blood to
be a shadow of our thoughts
while all our thoughts
materialise in someone else's sleep
Brilliance is a boredom to
the heart
and feelings remain a yawn to
to the mind