Don't make me your Hero!

I just do things. I do what I like at the moment. 
There is little justification to what I do except for momentary happiness.
If my actions seem to predict a long term plan, 
I certainly raise this claim that it is not my conscious action. 
They are mere coincidences. 
You are the one who joined the dots,
you are the one who is farsighted.
So, if think you are inspired by the potential success of a diligent man
then you are wrong. 
You are just far sighted. 
Cash that skill and maybe someone will see this gift in their own self.

So, let those false prophets go and think for a moment,
What have you done? What have you accomplished?
So much, if you just opened your eyes!
You were the one that survived the rat race to existence and kissed the embryo,
if it seems that common then that is because you compare,
how dare you, how dare you compare yourself to others,
when you are the beacon of hope,
the light, no one but you can do those things,
bring joy to your mother, pride to your father,
or ask questions in the dark like,
"What if god was one of us?"
and then sing that song and just as you see the random stranger,
hum that song, don't stop that beat!
That needs skill and you my friend will see,
that even giants need gravity,
to stand their ground and say I exist!

So exist god damn it,
Don't just live, leave your mark in history and
go explore every degree of success that you can achieve,
because believe in yourself and not me,
don't make me your hero,
set me free of that bondage!

Your body isn't a wonderland

I don't know how to play the guitar but if I did,
there would million songs about you,
about your eyes specially, those clear eyes,
and you wouldn't mind when I looked at you funny,
you wanted me to look at you that way,
you were happy with what I offered,
but I offered less than others could,
How could a day dreamer feed you with compliments,
when he doesn't even find you beautiful?

He couldn't care about the beauty,
he would be that stupid guy who saw nothing but her eyes and,
how they read those lines he wrote,
he would never be happy with that red sleek dress you wore,
he would rather be silent and demand solitude 
than give you attention for that sort of thing,
he is a weird breed, cosmetic beauty isn't his forte,
neither does have a greed that the girl has the milkiest of skin,
and silkiest of hair, even pashmina would fell rough,
and your slender body, would he say something,
he wouldn't, his lips were sealed by yours!

Maybe he was that awkward guy you'd see on the streets,
roaming around looking at the tall buildings,
in his own mind pondering over his short comings,
living in the past at the present moment and thinking about the future,
future where he hasn't imagined about you,
not because he's an asshole who deosn't care,
but because he cannot care, he isn't built for that,
his internal machine does not cover the software for empathy,
while his hardware for tears actas when you read his favorite book,
tha voice, oh rejoice he feels, this so called "human being",
the textbook definiton of an anti-social animal,
who wouldn't want discover that your body is a wonderland!


The gods had thunder and power,
They were immortals and non-beings,
creators of the world and the elements,
yet not far from emotions of humans!

Fear, anger, hatred and love,
all of these emotions they project,
risking all their credo as Gods,
are they even Gods?

But they are the ones who make it right,
the decision makers, the law,
the jury and the judge,
of Greece and the world itself!