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 Oct 2016 Morgan
Àŧùl
I am me,
And she's my role,
So she's as excellent as me myself,
But she's beautiful,
I am not.


Her poses possess a demeanour,
And she says a lot,
Silently,
But I listen to it all,
She just wonders how do I know.


She is now my bestest friend ever,
And of course the most gorgeous,
Can not be any easier to conclude,
Because she is simply a class apart,
She is a real motivator & practical.
Both Bhumika & I have our equation straight as the best of friends.
She is such a deserving young woman who exudes an infectious enthusiasm to achieve something.
I don't feel shy in saying that seeing her focus I feel encouraged to follow my career as well.

She has changed a lot and improvement is visible in her original poetry.

HP Poem #1175
©Atul Kaushal
 Oct 2016 Morgan
Damaré M
Extracted
 Oct 2016 Morgan
Damaré M
When she left she couldn't help but to leave that soft and sweet fragrant scent behind. You right, love is blind. There are other senses which make me miss her. Don't get me wrong, she is a enthralling flower. However I'm only reminiscing on the way she lingers, I'm drawn in by every 'come here' gesture of her finger. The openness of my nostrils, the little chill hills which coexist with my follicles. Jasmine... she is so honorable.
You could've been my body scent forever.
 Oct 2016 Morgan
Sarah Savannah
Through life we swim,
And barely breath,
Only every now and then receiving air,
Simply to dive back under and
Continue to swim.
Copycat syndrome.

We come back to this
the things that we longed for
and no longer miss.

Copycat syndrome.
Title from  Leonard Rossiter and  his cat.
 Oct 2016 Morgan
Dougie Simps
Dear insecure, emotional, overthinking young man

you've come a long way from way back then

you've lost a lot - but had to realize "who hasn't?"

your strong will seemed to be mistaken a lot from your passion

you've missed out on a lot of love by second guessing & never unmasking

why weren't you truly ever satisfied... nah, that's the question that I'm asking...

your abandonment issues pushed away the potential of something ever lasting

constantly fighting the man in the mirror

hopefully with your new life - you see things clearer

no one ever knew, with you...who they were gonna get

you've missed out on a lot of good times wanting to talk

instead of just letting it go and enjoying the time you had left.

Your favorite pills were self pity, self indulgence, ignorance and regret

you never stopped to listen - stopped talking - hopefully now you allow others words to be said

no woman stood a chance... you purposely acted a certain way to avoid the possibility of true love

discretely pushing them away until they saw nothing and had enough.

don't get me started on your lack of living

missed out on a lot of trips, chances and opportunities

I hope now you've filled that void that is missing

you swore happiness was wealth... power...a line of respect

little did you know it was the little things; the calm, the moments
the people and things in life worth it and willing to invest.

you gave up on a few dreams... figured why fight?

countless times your mind would just run... keep you up all night

you were so afraid of success... honestly, I never knew why

you never freed that little boy trapped - stuck in his father's grasp

he was begging for freedom, you left him struck inside

everyday was another day you thought was your time.

I hope you live now

I hope you see the beauty life truly is

I hope you found love

I hope you found this


I needed to write this letter to you - so you can see how far you have come

you can see that change is real

you can see all that you have become

Bland Douglas Simpkins,

that's the man you should be proud to be

no matter what challenges you were faced with

those obstacles were needed, needed to make it to this me

thank those who've came into your life - not all were meant to last

some forced you left - others showed you right

no matter what, some were needed in your past.

So...

Dear future self,

please understand - I'm sorry. For all that I put you through

the truth remains - that without me - just know...

there would be no you.
to the future
 Oct 2016 Morgan
Gwen Johnson
Whole
 Oct 2016 Morgan
Gwen Johnson
I've stopped searching
for my missing pieces
Not because I'm whole
but because
I finally
feel
alive
 Oct 2016 Morgan
Nemo
the anarchist
 Oct 2016 Morgan
Nemo
It is a strange feeling, wanting to die but not being selfish enough to **** yourself. It is not a good feeling and it is not a bad feeling. Just strange. Like wanting to step out of a moving vehicle but the door is locked, and you're the one who locked it.

It's liberating, in a sense. To sever those stringy limbs that are clutching on to life and all its irrelevant attachments. Unbinded by society. The friendly release of death, all the familiarities of living still in tact. Immortality stolen directly from the suicide note. Shot through the heart, but still very much full of life.

Some pathetic hermaphrodite of irony and despair.

I think it stems from this futile awareness of a futile existence. I could live with a futile existence, but by some divine cosmic punishment am forced to be aware of my place within society. My place being an insignificant cell in a cell. And no body cares about a single cell within it. If one cell dies, it won't even notice it's gone, but simply continue as it was. But I refuse to give it the power to ignore my death. To stay alive is rebellion. To love and to live, in spite of life, is pure anarchy.
service failure the ***** will offer
there's something medically askew with it
the usual role is proving so unfit
a second chance in a transplant's proffer
another dies to bring life back again
wellness being redeemed by precious gift
the recipient receives a big lift
living's joy restored out of the rain
someone's kind donation affording breath
so that the period of existence stays
a healthy liver performing its job
for not to have this giving there'd be death
the bestowment allows those future days
gratitude felt within a person's cob
 Oct 2016 Morgan
Àŧùl
Every minute I will wait for you,
I am sure you will make it worthwhile,
Because I am truly entirely yours.
HP Poem #1173
©Atul Kaushal
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