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 Apr 2014 imadeitallup
Àŧùl
In That Moonlit Night Standing In The Abaft,
Watching The Towed Flaccid Wooden Raft,
I Thought That I Saw An Angel Resting,
Lying Exhausted There In That Craft.

I Call The Girl Out Unbeknownst Of Her Kind Name,
"Hey Young Lady!!" To Which She Didn't Much Respond,
She Looked Up Towards Me Once In Anguish & Collapsed,
I See Desperation In Her Amber Eyes & Resolve To Help Her.

The Crewmen Had Now Been Doing The Paddles After Resting,
I Summon My Captain & Ask, "Do You See That Girl In The Raft?"
The Senile Captain Smiles To Say, "Commodore, Better Get Married,"
I Look Just Clueless To Which He Simply Replies, "There Is No Girl."

True He Was As She Had Simply Disappeared,
I Started Thinking Of My Sleep Needs That Day,
I Looked Around Again In A Hope To Find The Girl,
I Had Compromised My Routine As The Commodore.

Then I Immediately Realized It Was My Wild Phantasm,
Now This Was Just A Plain Illusion Of A Tired Sailor's Mind,
No Mermaids Could Have Ever Existed In Reality & Were Fake,
I Turned Towards The Deck To Go Back To My Bunk For Sleeping.

As I Climbed Down The Stairs To Enter My Room Amazed & Dazed,
I Saw Her Standing And Waiting For Me By The Side Of My Bunk,
I Accepted That Delusion Of My Mind & Started To Lie Down,
She Said, "I'm As Real As Your Thoughts, Don't Fear Me."

She & I-Me & Her, Had The Best Time That Night,
In The Morning She Was Gone & Was Just Gone,
Disappeared Into Thin Air While I Was Asleep,
Each Day I So Dearly Long For Her To Return.
November 28, 2012 poem.

7 Stanzas Of A Beautiful Open-Eyed Dream Written In A Lonely Evening Reflecting Upon What I Lost Due To The May 7, 2010 Accident.

Read the entire Angel Saga by me, Atul Kaushal.
https://hellopoetry.com/collection/13567/the-angel-saga/

My HP Poem #19
©Atul Kaushal

I thank you all so much for the overwhelming response that this poem has received.

If you get interested in reading any of my novels after having read this poem then do visit https://www.amazon.in/Atul-Kaushal/e/B00NIQ5MTC/ for buying any of my stories.
I'm stupidly sad over a boy that's not mine.
I'm stupidly sad thinking of them waiting in line.
For a concert we never got to see,
An embodiment of you and me.
I know you held her hand,
and sang her those lyrics that now I can't stand.
Battling spite.
Those things we shared late late at night.
I'm stupidly sad over a boy that's not mine.
When will this heal?
Where's my bandaid of time?
a poem to be birthed. but possibly too late.  think on this some more. this isn't the poem it's supposed to be.
 Apr 2014 imadeitallup
Àŧùl
You were wary of all guys till you
Met my dumb but intellectual self
In this vastly wide but empty void
Called my hopelessly romantic life
Then we were only poetry friends
Slowly was peeled this fruity love
Now we have been in sweet love.

Can you explain this relationship
Or would you choose no diagnosis
And only relish its divine sweetness
How very sweetly it has happened
Why & how we two got together..

Finding the heart which was lost
Through all ages, time and again
Tides o'times our love has faced.
They tried sinking love but it resurfaced!

My HP Poem #618
©Atul Kaushal
I can fake my identity and try to look happy,
but its all just a cover.
Take a swig from the flask and remove the last mask
only to find another.

There was once a time when I knew myself,
but now I'm not so sure.
All semblance of self-worth lay eroding in the dirt,
and its all thanks to her.

It's not really her fault, I'm truly to blame.
I grew selfish out of fear.
Afraid of being alone, I couldn't let her go
and now she's nowhere near.
A quick freestyle that I did.
 Apr 2014 imadeitallup
spacequeen
We dreamed of becoming more than what we were.
And we escaped in the smoke that filled the room.

Our souls trapped...
Jailed behind our ribcages.

So we sat there...
Changing out the records.
Mouthing all the lyrics.

Waiting for the perfect moment to speak words.
Those times never came...

Instead we became more silent.

Inhaling the smoke.
Exhaling it all the same.

And I sat there wondering what else was out there.

I felt so comfortable in your surroundings.
Too high to realize what was really going on.

I broke the cycle.
The routine of a roller coaster ride that wasn't fun.
Longing for something more.
Wondering if I deserved better.

Even when I thought you were the best...
I started to question that.

My love for you may never die...
But my addictions did.

My tears brought on the clouds.
And I had to follow the sun.

No more.
No more tears.
No more love to give to you.
The sun loved the moon so much he died every night to let her breathe
Budweiser cans lay on the floor like empty mortar rounds,
the smell of Jack Daniels as potent as battlefield blood.

Weekend wars where we fight ourselves for pleasure.
Waging conquest on the banal.
Losing limbs and liver for a life less ordinary.

The air in my apartment is stale like cigarette butts,
buried in mass graves in an ashtray over full.

Weekend warriors where we battle for a new fix.
Waging conquest on the week day.
Losing steady vision for a life less ordinary.
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