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Swastika
17/F/aloof of reality Somewhere in between finding and creating myself, here I am expressing myself.
A yearning desire, thirst to fulfill I look into the endless land As I stand at the edge of a high wall Holding back, with anticipation. One day it shall be complete My once upon a time When he comes from a faraway land, My knight in shining armor. On a beautiful white horse He will take me away Where nobody will be Just him and me.
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Aug 30, 2020
Aug 30, 2020 at 3:38 PM UTC
Knight in Shining Armour
Curved to smoothness, a wooden mess, To a refined Mahogany soprano Four strings held, tight on the neck A Hawaiian soul tuned cheerful. Great power it holds, the polished piece All swoon at its voice and sight Gives the beholder the might to please And contentment to the listener. A downward strum, against the wood A cacophony bliss unveiled, Let your subconscious indulge In the trail of the divine theme.
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Aug 11, 2020
Aug 11, 2020 at 3:43 AM UTC
Ukulele
Silver beams from the heavens above, All a shadow but a lucid scene Bickering lights from ships afar, Like that of fireflies among the stars. Blaring powerful booms of fire Illuminating the black infinite, As though spells are being cast, A magic waiting to happen. Underneath is a turning enormous wheel Lit like the outbursts up high, Carts speeding on the metal tracks Tents that give out joy. I see it all for one last time The best spot in the city, As I sip from the best tent My favorite cup of coffee.
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Jul 30, 2020
Jul 30, 2020 at 11:58 AM UTC
For One last Time
Seeping through the window, A beautiful yellow light Revealing a small room, With shades, dark and bright. Amongst the pretty sight, Stood a white canvas, In the middle of it all, All shapes and colors. It waited to be touched, Get splashed with paint, To feel new and colorful Not ordinary and plain. But the artist denied, “I won’t” he said. It’s too beautiful to be touched, “Too pure!” he exclaimed. Beauty lies in the ordinary Have the eye for it, Extraordinary it shall become However pale or bright. So stood the white canvas With pride, this time Complaining no more, Feeling adorned and white.
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Jul 9, 2020
Jul 9, 2020 at 6:01 AM UTC
The White Canvas
I’m fatal, to your life, And though you know, you don’t resist me. You ****** me puff by puff until I was reduced to well, not nothing. You didn’t stop with me, And went on and on, a new one every day, new soul every day. You think I ceased to exist and no trace of me remained, but wrong you are and that you should know, I am and will remain to be inside, where you took me. Turn is mine but you don’t realize as I ruin you cell by cell, like you did to me, few months ago until that time arrives, when you will be reduced to well, not nothing and death finds your way. Then you may join my other half with no one to avenge your fate. Regards, that cigarette of 7th October.
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Apr 18, 2020
Apr 18, 2020 at 3:07 AM UTC
The Vengeance of 7th October