Flying from the false beauties ⇒ Kirno Sohochari

Cloggy smells of the trees reminds…
dewy tip of winter,
your parched face reminds…
fallen moments of dead old leaves.

Ramping upstairs in dark is unsafe,
you could stumble upon be fractured.
It’s instead better, ramp your dark beauties,
albeit you have no chance to survive there.

When I’m playing with your dark long hair
I see the death angel there,
Busy to play your dark hair…
The little babies as play their mama’s hair.

The paddy fields being lackluster after harvesting
I am lying-in the empty field and sipping your
futile beauties like a screwed boozer,
under the honeysuckle winter sunlight.


Nothing is new here…
The deadly chilly winter and the sprouting spring has no difference to the rest. They’re the same old wine, — dripping from the wine cask drop-by-drop to dissolve and come back again.

Nothing is new…
The rainy storm and the hot summer are indifferent at end. They’re the same old buffoon, — mimicking to wipes out from the landscape to appear again on the rooftop.

Nothing is new here…
The skittish bull-calf and the charming toddle have no variation at rest. They’re the same old eye-catching sweet devil, melting in the landscape to return again.

Nothing is new…
The singing bird and the heavy metal rock-star have no disparity at all. They’re the same old resonance, — singing to erase from the landscape to arrive again.

Nothing is new here…
The green minaret of the mosque and terracotta-temple are identical. Both are the same old monotony to faith unknown, — expunged from the landscape to repeat the monotony again-and-again.

Nothing is new honey…
Your spotless dimple and the wrinkle of my granny’s have no inequality. Both of you’re the same old pain of contaminated beauties, — waits for the sweeper to sweep you out from the irksome landscape to back again.

Nothing is new honey sans the doomsday…
I wait for the day to see a new reincarnation of your monotonous beauties,
— from the vivid dark of unknown nothingness.

The villain of the cinema attracts me a lot. I’m the follower of his superlative actions. He knows how to twist your innocent beauties by his devilish hilarity. You’re so far innocent when the villain teased you by his diabolic action and your innocence become in risk when you consent the hero to destroy him.

The vanity of your fugitive beauty is priceless sans the villain. The cine director is a liar. He tells a lie when he sent the angelic hero to save your magical appeal. The bogus angel ravished your appeal instead to save it.

My glamour queen, I know your acidic beauty is the enemy of your zeal to be intellect. Oh my elegant beauty, I request you to avoid the hero and bloody hell director. They’re disturbing itch for your exultant glamour.

Oh my colorful heroine, you should provoke the villain to take care of you so far, before the ultimate villain is coming over from the unknown to steal your volatile glamour to the villain’s facade.


The professor of genetics is charming to his ardent theories. He looks ravishing when he tunes his microscope to meet the invisible double helix in the lab. The professor is shouting with joy when he found something new from the helix. When he traced something after search, the winsome hailstorm starts to fallen on the rooftop.

His last adventure was anomalous to know that the genetics of cock-eyed helix are selfish by nature. He knew it to read the book of the last scientific invention by a modern scientist. The jolly professor feels pain to realize that he is selfish rather to be altruistic. Strangely, the hailstorm was forgetting to shell on his rooftop that day.

The professor was silently sitting on his laboratory to think about the useless effort of human to prove them altruistic modern being. His rampant footstep was quickly waking up the neighbors. They were coming to the balcony on sleepy-eyes to see what is happening in the midnight. The professor was on middle of the lane, harshly shouting:

“Hi! How could it possible for you to sleeping so certain! Wake up to the sleep and try to destroy the theory that you are selfish by your own helix-paradox!”

The peevish neighbors were soon going to their bed by left the professor alone in the midnight lane. The hailstorm begun on that moment and the alien professor silently entered his house to write down his suicide note.

When I told the story to you on a blissful moment of love, you surprisingly laughed and said, “It is certainly pleasant that we are not the best creature of carrying the altruistic burden of humanity due to the selfishness.”

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