she was my most loved rainy day--
on this day, as rain fell,
smoke rose above houses, engines whirled and honked, relinquishing fierce flames--
she passed like a hurricane with stronger winds than I had prepared for, knocking me down, cradling my head as I descended. if I was God every day would be torrential downpour, with me,
but everything good doesn't last,
even when you pray tears out of your blessed eyes.
until we are reunited, I await the next season.
The world is crazy, not sugar coated its evil…
Motivated by money, the love of it is in people…
Your soul should not embody capitalism...
By that I mean worldly gain if so then your soul is trapped in prison…
People want more instead of accepting what’s given…
I’m talking life, yeah there’s plight, but it’s your choice to do wrong or right
Freedom of choice is God given
Your life should be modeled off Christ not simply living
It seems as though I should get my cake up
Thoughts of reality, fleshly casualty, spiritually I know to get my faith up
Eyes open yet sight of the blind when will we wake up?
Not one president has been the Messiah
Stand behind the youth as shells fall from gun fire
Understand that oil prices will get higher
War will stop then continue, lives will continue to expire
Since the beginning man has thrived to not die but stay alive
Thoughts of Immortal,
Jesus lived and died and rose so death he survived
Because of him death is just a portal
You were different
As you repeatedly pointed out
You weren't quite like the others
You possessed a quietness which only titillated me further
We had moments which will lie etched in memory forever
We were different
But then, like twigs under the feet of a giant
You broke me.
You may be the one I thought I desired
You may be the one I thought I required
But you are not
Nor are you the only one for me
There are plenty of fish in the sea
Should I choose to go fishing.
For now, the rods must stay in the barn;
I have bigger fish to fry.
Like changing the world, for instance
Which to you is a preposterous and fanatical notion
To me, is another thing to tick off my to do list
I am different
Knocking me down did not serve any purpose but to strengthen my resolve
I rose slowly, like a flower amongst weeds of pain
I came through, bigger, better, scarred but stronger
Oh look what you've done
I wish you no harm
But I'm not exactly rooting for team ** anymore
You're on your own there
And rest assured, give me a few more years,
And I'll show you just what you are missing.
In that moment, poetic justice will truly be served.
Red, as the deepest rose in a bloom of spring
like the blood that runs through my being
like the light inside the tower for men at sea
your touch creates a safe haven for me
Dust, clouded and floating through the air
like a part of the Earth that didn't bother to care
like the way a fire sparkles through a dead night
you are just the correct type of write
Fragmented and broken in a universe of chaotic distrust
like a brand new bike with a slight bit of rust
like joy that only comes when you're in my hand
no need for an audience, you are my biggest fan
A song to be belted from the top of a mountain high
like the coarse, bristly hairs my fingers slip by
like the tissues that have wiped so many tears
you are the only one who will ever understand my wants and fears
And love, the sweetest, most innocent, and pure kind
like the first opening of a newborn's eyes
like the moment you realize your purpose in life
you are the only one I feel I will ever do write by
So here's to you, my dearest friend- my pen,
you are why I am who I am.
I saw a dying light go out
And vanish with the wind
As my mind flooded with empty doubt
For fear of ne'er seeing it again.
I felt a gentle hand reach forward
Wrapping around my throat
While my arms still flailed and pushed out toward
The shore- as my body rose to float.
The bell did toll a solemn boom
That silent, shrouded night-
I laid my head upon my tomb,
Relinquishing my sight.
How sweet the silhouette of death
Upon the vacant sky
Encompassing my heavy breath
As I heave a final sigh.
Treasury Casino, 3:03 am. Monday morning.
Casino bars shut at 3:00 am in QLD.
I missed a place to sleep by 9 minutes.
My timing is impeccable.
2 hours to kill until the last train home.
An older man in a slate suit enters stage right.
Reenters stage left with brass buttons
lit up like embers.
The 9 network wants me to buy
stonedine frying pans.
And warns me about harmful gasses that have killed household budgies.
I wish I was more interesting.
You havent lived
until you've seen a man blow a pancake
off a frying pan.
Onto a plate.
Late night bar personnel work in silence
cleaning beer nozzles and coffee machines.
They wander in and out of the scene under sophisticated lighting.
I wonder what to do about you, and what I'm feeling.
What our hold on each other is and when (if) the sword of Damocles will fall.
Is this truly tragedy to which we are destined?
I shudder to think.
And for this am I classed by the title
3:20 am - Existentialism strikes a vicious blow. No coup de grace.
The blackjack dealer on the $15 table has a gorgeous face that makes me wonder how her body feels on a post coital morning. Satisfied and relaxed, taut through anticipation of further pleasure?
Straight raven tresses frame a heart shaped face that peers over the ridge of a white collared shirt, sprouting from beneath a black vest, tight at the elbows.
She deals with deft machine-gun efficiency. Not all bullets hit their mark here.
Her back curves with natural elegance down to a tight, young ass. The shape of it magnified by the black business pants writes itself as a factory on my mind. Light hands would fit well there, one on each cheek, her mouth open seductively, trading tastes and sensations.
There is a dying rose in my lapel.
I contemplate leaving it somewhere poetic but cant think of a place.
The thorns are still sharp.
The only place where time is invincible
is a place where it is hidden.
Casino's are such a place.
Here time cannot be killed.
Yet I have smuggled it in.
Part 1: http://hellopoetry.com/poem/brisbane-street-sketch-1/
Part 2: http://hellopoetry.com/poem/brisbane-street-sketch-2/
Part 4: http://hellopoetry.com/poem/brisbane-street-sketch-4/
Part 5: http://hellopoetry.com/poem/brisbane-street-sketch-5/
Never Fails In Seduction.
I Love It When You Pose,
When You Do Like A Rose.
And Oh! It Breaks down
My Mature-Manly Body
It Then Becomes Softer
My HP Poem #165
© Atul Kaushal
The ways I do not comprehend and will probably not 'til the end of my days
but in truth
there is this,
is a mountain of gold that unfolds like a rose
and those who are fated to live life without such
are the ones who would not know much
Nothing stands above the heavenly touch of lips upon mine
nor can wine or whiskey diminish
the lustre that lays upon each kisses finish
and should you not fall upon this way which is open to all
then you have my pity
as I watch as you fall
for what is it that is not
but a sweet kiss then forgot and only remembered
in the slumber of old men where the dreams are oft painted
with the taintings of youth.
Kissing each truth as presented tasting the fruit
getting drunk and demented by
that the lips set on fire.
And on meeting these musings
accusing myself of an understanding I lack
I go back for one more kiss
to decide if I did miss
I’m going. to. do it.
I’m going to rip every painstaking petal from my eye
I wont be okay. if the idealization kills the love. I feel
Im going to smash. And. Mangle.
These rose tinted glasses
Over this, Concrete, corner.
Don’t care who’s going to look. and judge
I am the victim
No longer will I look through a pink vial of self possessed poison
No longer will I escape true unconditional love
If there was, a Satan. this would be his game
Well. I said. fuck this, I’m not going to believe in its dictation
I’m going to be. my own salvation
From its pink. Innocent. coloration
I’m going to pull, pluck, and wrench
These petals from my eye lids
It’s going to be a painfully beautiful process
So sweet. how could it. lead you to do harm?
When. in. actuality. it will end up twisting behind my very arms!
No, I wont collaborate to torment this feeling deep inside!
Objectifying. my love.
Going to shatter this wall. that you build.
Gonna kill this in my fury.
You separate me from my beautiful reality.
Reality, is much more beautiful. than you and I. can conceive!
Roses on a stem
soft, velvety on my skin
thorns cause me to bleed