Social Boundaries and Barriers.......
Walls of Exclusion
Force me to walk alone on a Path which,
Ironically
Is meant only for me.

Social Boundaries and Barriers.......
Walls of Exclusion
Force me to walk alone on a Path which,
Ironically
Is meant only for me.

Breaking on a weathered shore
The waves of time in tempest rhyme
Relentless through the open space
They’ve left my mind in a scattered state

The winds of change have blown this way
Across the void into my dreams
Upon the mountains of my mind
And through the valleys they do whine

The trembling earth beneath my feet
Shakes me up and all around
Gravity’s tremors wrestle with me
To pull me down into the ground

A raging flame roars in my ears
I turn around to face the sound
That fire that burns inside of me
I hold it close but carefully

The churning vortex draws me in
Its clutch is great and its goal is clear
I spin and spin till the daylight’s gone
And find no end to its endless song

There’s nothing mentioned that can’t be said
The wheels of fortune can’t be read
The mind of matter can’t be defied
And the rains from heaven can not be denied

When rain comes around to quench my flame
When the earth turns round and pulls me down
There’s very little I can say
But I choose to take it my very own way

This was a fun write in a serious sort of way. It started with a simple line a just grew from there. By the end of the first verse, there was a roadmap in mind but that roadmap kept changing right up to the last verse.

'I have never started a poem yet whose end I knew. Writing a poem is discovering.' –  Robert Frost

Thinking too much
Cogitating too much
Ruminating too much
What does It accomplish?
Nothing.
Fate has already revealed itself
The path for me to follow
For the rest of my life
Has already been set.

An old hag, I tell ya,
She read my palm,
And revealed it.

That only momentary pleasures,
Were written in my destiny,
Of varying measures.

I agree to some extent,
Only torment is permanent,
As pleasures are just temporary.

Lost within myself they often get,
Like a delightful chocolate bar,
Akin to one from a beer bar.

Dissatisfied with every happiness,
Half filled with unspilled tears,
The other half of lost years.

My HP Poem #1545
©Atul Kaushal

We were not meant to be puppets,
By doing a dance act through manipulation.

Humans are intended to put on their own show,
A play with people controlling the plot.

The tale basically has two themes,
A destined path to good and to evil.

With the power of freewill,
We choose our own ending in the story.

A higher power lets us decide our fate,
Letting us choose between love and hate.

How beautiful to be reflected in your eyes,
As we lay too close and not close enough.
I couldn't even understand what you were saying;
I was too engrossed watching each delicate movement of your lips.
I'm jolted back in the moment; I hear: I love you
I am whole.

zebra May 14

all my life i held a dream
of a woman i would love

of course

she would be alluring
supple
a charming countenance
erudite, with an angelic face

her body
a muscular stretching willow
arching her legs over head
kissing her own
curving soft feet
a graceful contortionist
in confetti colored sparkle pantyhose
stretching towards me
silken hair draping a perfect symmetry
with spun sugar kisses
wafting the scent of vanilla
and candied vaporous breath
lips like cherry glistening lozenges

but

one never knows ones destiny

i met her
my girl destiny
except for a faint look of languor and ruin
with a tinge of withering
she was without doubt unbearably titillating
with razor thin blackened lips
mascara slits for eyes
hair pulled straight back
jet black
jelled like hardened licorice
with satanic blood rivulets
and pitch fork tattooed tits

a vice of lechery
a malefaction of moral turpitude
her ass scarred from orgiastic beatings
her anus became
like a large wrinkly mouth
resembling the face of a bullfrog
from pleasuring  herself with
tableware cutlery

her soul
a broken creel
suffering bouts of anxiety
like a weeping moon
having  been institutionalized
in Mother Marys Hell House
from a ghastly bout of parricide

her father,
a hobbling gloomish troll
while the dark veins of mother
ran through her soul
leaving little choice
but to dispatch
the parents
abandoning their corpses in the kitchen
like strewn litter

turned out
just my
kinda
girl

d
e
s
t
i
n
y

Wanting to promote a righteous cause,
But confused in an enormous maze.

Imperfections appeared with each mystery,
Leading to unwanted acts of contempt.

Even though sin led to punishment,
Grounds for virtuous principles meant to shine.

Needing to find the right trail in life,
Battling for virtue in every aspect of living.

The inner demons that prevailed were conquered,
Discovering survival without sinister tactics.

James Court May 5

Into the tunnel,
because outside, I know not
which way I should go.

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