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Life is beautiful
Water lilies dancing in the ripples
But people are callous and cruel

Life is beautiful
The sun soothes my soft skin
But people lie and hate

Life is beautiful
Rain water rinses warm sweat away
But people build bombs

Life is beautiful
The night is cool and merciful
But people can’t seem to reciprocate

Life is beautiful
Full of wonder and descriptive words lack
The power to express that
But make it easy to see the dark ways
Of humanity
What a difference a day makes
24 evolving hours
As the earth turns a new leaf
Beauty blossoms from our sours

We found an enchanted key
And put it in the lock
Turned it till the light burst out
And energy began to flock

We tuned back in the radio
To a frequency with a mark
No more long lost crackle
But a station with a spark

The flowers have started to bud
The clouds have started to go
The walls have started to melt
The light has started to glow
Not understanding is the first step,
Accepting it is the second.
You never have to be happy about it
You can fill yourself with wrath
Or sadness.
The third step is the hardest
.
.
.
You have to move on.
Dripping peach juice down our chins,
chasing each other in the fiery sunset.

Veins popping out of your arms
begging something I couldn't quite make out....

You would draw me.
Charcoal.
My body blown up on the big screen,
my curves soft like the smoke you were blowing out of your mouth.

The ***** videos,
followed by the sweet ones,
the ones with the sun in my hair,
our laughter electric as we fell down the rabbit hole.

The spray paint we dropped on the roof
as we ran from the sirens in the distance.

Electric, electric, you are my electricity.
No one can catch us if we float on air.

You said
"will you be my girl, will you be bad for me?"
And I slid down the slide, my legs scraping the mulch.
"For you babe. And you only."

The curve of your spine against my arm.
The freckles on your back,
the fine hairs on your neck pressing into my lips.
The warmth.
The light coming through the blinds,
your face illuminated.

You throwing up under the streetlights,
windows fogged, sleepy eyes saying:
cmon love lets just make it home.
Everything is gonna be okay, the police are gone..
Cut your losses, let's make it home.

Christmas trees in bay windows,
we watched them jingle.

I would leave love letters under your pillow,
in your car, whisper them to you as you drove.

Magic.
You're a magic man.

And in your boxes- your hidden treasures..
I would stare at them until you set me under another spell..

Your dark hair wrapped up in my fingers..
Another sunset.

Asleep in the back of your jeep,
in the middle of the woods,
river water burning my throat.
Listening to you *****-
always vomiting,
always kissing.

Peach juice dripping.
 Nov 2015 aniket nikhade
R
lines no matter how bold
no matter how thick or thin
can always be bent or crossed
with just the right amount of pressure
or negotiation and talk
sometimes flirtation

maybe you've known each other
for weeks, months maybe even years
and you follow the lines
trying real hard to stay on your side of it
because it's what you consider
comfortable, acceptable and familiar

but sometimes you lose focus
and your vision isn't sharp
you know it's not the right thing to do
but you crossed the line
just to experience what it feels like
to be on the other side of it

this is where the complications start
you don't know how to be back
to your own side of the line
because now you know how it feels like
to be on the other side with the other person
and you won't admit this but you liked it there

now your mind is racing with possibilities
of what if's and what could have been's
but you know it's wrong and it's weird
so you went back to your own side
but the lines are all blurry now
and your mind's all messed up

it feels like you did the right thing to do
by going back to your side
but you feel this emptiness in your chest
because even though you are back
you left your heart on the other side
and the emptiness is killing you.
She was the sun,
He was the sky
She was the answer
He was the why
She was the poem
He was the pen
She was the party
He was the when

He was the instrument of her fine music.
She was the maker of his ideas.

Paint without canvas
Rhythm without soul
Only together could Life become whole.
Clamp the red march onward!
Cut the winding trench!
Mask a visage for protection
from the visceral drench.

Light the forge in battle!
Keep the battlefield alive.
Hear the laborious drumbeat
of a heart trying to survive.

Stainless steel and knowledge
in the forge are fired
Gone are human needs -
Death is never tired.

On each second rests a lifespan.
Each minute gambles years.
A surgeon only has two hands
and no mortal fears.

The battle surges forward
as blood is forced right back
from the heart it came from;
a heart still under attack.

Even as the battle ended,
with blood, tears and sweat,
the war raged ever onward,
Death remains a threat.

Every day a battle.
Every life a war.
Against Death and the ethereal
survival is the score.
This poem was written after meeting a heart transplant survivor at the museum dedicated to the first successful heart transplant (at Groote Schuur, Cape Town)
Darkness pervades; an empty whole.
Tears fill this broken bowl.
The nectar too salty to quench the thirst
A brutal reminder of what came first

A Blackness, a Void. God illuminated into being.
Beauty, Belief, Faith - a false way of Seeing.
The futile attempts to make the hole whole,
but it's Loneliness that resides in our Soul.

In every being sprung into existence
the Romantic effort of Man's resistance
is Love, hailed as the Cure.
But ask yourself, "Are you sure?".

At a life with Loneliness by our side
Love's importance becomes amplified.
But Love is just a wishful lie
it is Loneliness that embraces us as we die.
Let me dance this life away
Let me care not about what I say
Let me feel alive and whole
Let me feed my starving soul
Let me squeal and shout with glee
Please oh please, self; let me be me.
For a time we exchanged lives.
Many a trait, from you derives.
Then no-one, no-one, no-one
could be you: The One.
Our secrets filled each other’s ears
spoken in a second; lasting years.
It hurts my mind remembering We
for you are now a part of Me.

Sometimes I wish we hadn’t solved our woes.
The saddest part to part as foes.
In my memories you’re still my best friend;
Moments show a friendship with no end.
In those snapshots we never grow a part,
Yet it is those memories that tear my heart.
Although but a fluttering butterfly kiss,
our carefree laugh is one I’ll miss.

As life changes so do We.
In the end we is anyone + me.
Because we changed as we got older,
so our laughs got fewer, our looks colder.
We may not make new memories together,
But our shared time will last forever.
Our contact now may be none to few.

I am glad I was somebody + you.
I wrote this about a very dear friend, who I miss terribly. Often those we love become a part of who we were, but not who we need to become.
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