Children....

After the Game... 

I began to think of children – their innocence , their cuteness, their carefree laughter, not because the week before housed the children’s day for I don’t get too attached to days and have grown over the sentimentality that comes attached to a day, when candies are disturbed. I began to think of them, when after a game of football I sat and gazed at a puppy, whose sex I don’t know but I claim it was a she for I am a male writer and it makes it more intense to have it that way… I was drawn to that puppy like most of you; makes me a good person? (Nope!)

 

After a game of that wonderful game, where I missed enough goals to be a celebrity, I sat alone and gazed at a puppy dance around the grass with little flowers strewn around and she ran as if to chase a yellow butterfly. (I don’t know if she was chasing that butterfly but for dramatic reasons I claim it was) However I kept an eye on the sleeping mother and her brother, who seemed to sleep as if it was a government holiday (it was) lest if they wake up to find a stranger with their girl. 

Yes! I was drawn to her but she wasn't for she seemed happy or curious running around. Well! I called her – the easy way; to emit a silent high frequency sound. She came running towards me with a nay prejudice. (One word I still can’t pronounce) She came running as if she was sure that I had something good to offer, u know, I wasn't dangerous or evil; in other words she made me feel trustworthy in matter of seconds. 

She wasn't worried if I missed goals in the wonderful game for she was innocent of that or it wasn't necessary at all. She wanted me to play with her or tickle her and give her some expression of affection in a touchy way. Moreover all she was: she was mildly selfish in an innocent way.

  However I guess even I was selfish, attracted to her small, cute innocent features like we are attracted to a baby’s small toes or fingers and sometimes this attraction leaves one in a situation - annoyed. Especially when you walk around with a girl or girls and they grow mad over a stranger’s kid and they are like:

“He is so sho sho cute”.

And I can't help but mumble:

“Yeah right! Even I was cute when I was little”

 Maybe I should hang with someone who was there when I was little and cute and they keep talking how lovely I was when I was little.

Yes, children do get annoying. Nevertheless we are drawn to a child for their innocence and the child gets drawn to us for they are innocent. Children are innocence of our past or our limitations and all they can do is trust; that trust makes you and i trustworthy and maybe it is undeserving. And it is that belief from a child that tends to change you and me. (Except maybe when they are crying annoyingly)

I guess the chance to bring up a child is a chance to be different for a civilization is known by how it treats its children.... and even me.... Ah! Shut up! 

Unwritten!

At last  a plagiarism! (kinda)


        

…. But the new rebel is a Skeptic, and will not entirely trust anything. He has no loyalty; therefore he can never be really a revolutionist. And the fact that he doubts everything really gets in his way when he wants to denounce anything. For all denunciation implies a moral doctrine of some kind; and the modern revolutionist doubts not only the institution he denounces, but the doctrine by which he denounces it. Thus he writes one book complaining that imperial oppression insults the purity of woman, and then he writes another book (about the sex problem) in which he insults it himself. He curses the sultan because Christian girls lose their virginity, and then curses Mrs. Grundy because they keep it. As a politician, he will cry out that war is a waste of life, and then, as a philosopher, that all life is a waste of time. A Russian pessimist will denounce a policeman for killing a peasant, and then prove by the highest philosophical principles that the peasant ought to have killed himself. A man denounces marriage as a lie, and then denounces aristocratic profligates for treating it as a lie. He calls a flag a bauble, and then blames the oppressors of Poland or Ireland because they take away that bauble. The man of this school goes first to a political meeting, where he complains that savages are treated as if they were beasts; then he takes his hat and umbrella and goes on to a scientific meeting, where he proves that they practically are beasts. In short, the modern revolutionist, being an infinite skeptic, is always engaged in undermining his own mines. In his book on politics he attacks men for trampling on morality; in his book on ethics he attacks morality for trampling on men. Therefore the modern man in revolt has become practically useless for all purposes of revolt. By rebelling against everything he has lost his right to rebel against anything.

                                        -------- Orthodoxy (G.K Chesterton )

                       
Refer Page 52- 53 (depends on the size and publisher of the book  :P )

P.S.  I decided put something that is not mine but captured ma attention and the best thing is that i typed it from a actually paper book, didn't copy and paste from some quote webpage or some e book  and for that hard work, i would feel justified if u had read it ;)
                                                   

a Hyberbole!

A Kiss-less Mouth!

A longing to kiss,
the noble gesture of love,
not to seduce or abuse
but to listen with an intent
for love never boasts;
and a kiss is dignified by that love.

Sometimes I wish i could be more eloquent,
to walk up to a lovely maiden
with the tread of a gentleman,
to kiss the hand of the maiden
and remind her that she is beautiful
to walk away and never seeing her again.

I go on to dream to have a child by
to gaze the face of that spotless innocence,
not corrupted by the vileness as a society we render
to kiss that face with a allure of an inferior feeling.
A feeling that longs for that untarnished innocence
so I could get by to the Holy Maker.

A longing to kiss,
the noble gesture of love,
not to seduce or abuse
but to listen with an intent
for love never boasts;
and love is expressed still by a kiss.

A mouth that doesn't kiss
doesn't let the eyes be still and learn.
A mouth that doesn't pause to be still,
to beckon the ears to listen
cannot render a kiss of a sublime countenance
and it is laid waste as a kissless mouth.

A kiss is a noble gesture.
A nod of a loftiest notion
when not to seduce or abuse
but to render a rescue,
from the depths of a loveless muse;
and a loud kissless mouth is mostly a ruse!