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Ikigai Poet Aug 10
The chaos in your heart
is another form of art.
-Ikigai Poet
Äŧül Mar 26
In the warm calm of this dark night,
I prepare for my next fight,
It's not an option, I won't take the flight.

In this soliloquy, I am not so lonely,
I'm with myself right now,
It's not just a trial, I meditate and how.

In this ordeal, I am out of my body,
I need to focus consciously,
It's a fight – it's a war – with great spoils.
My HP Poem #1739
©Atul Kaushal
MJL Feb 17
Everyones chillin’
Groovin' tunes rollin’
Lowriders cruisin’
Then your loud *** comes along
Takin’ up space
Yours and mine
Wreckin’ smooth
Pushin’ your own groove
"Donk in charge"
No votes necessary
Everythin’ sighs
Bubble on the mic
Doin’ your business
All over the room
Box store cut-*** mule
Nothin’ but noise
Blow


© 2019 MJL
Car lovers. Some lowrider lingo fun. Rude people are rude.
Badshah Khan Feb 9
Rubayiat Al Thurab (Verses of the Dust) – 22

BismillahIr RahmanIr Raheem

Willingly I ummah thurab, as passionate lover of my Beloved,

And as a wanderer (Faqeer) , by willingly’ I defame myself with my own will,

Without proper care about this ideal world or eternal fame,

Oh my social fellowship don’t try to think wistfully or sense.

To defame my noble dignity, as you may, don’t grasp my fierce rage.

I myself daunted and scared about my inner rage, Kindly do not disturb,

My wanderer path pleasantly let me be myself,

In the moral sense of my willingly lost,

And let me drown in my Beloved love forever!

Allah Khair….. Khairul Rabul Alameen Yah Arrahmanur Yah Raheem

Ummah Thurab – Badshah Khan.
©UT-BK 2019
Rubayiat Al Thurab (Verses of the Dust)
awknight Oct 2018
echoes fall on my skin
like ripples of fear
a lonely gaze toward pattern
ignores the warmth behind my eyes
I trace the veins of my hand
rolling bones and tendons
a feeling of solace
the sound of my own breaking
under pressure I caused

a lilac touches the nape of my neck
soft and forgiving
a grace I do not grant myself
serenity found in chills
interrupting ripples
disturbing the disturbance
Cherisse May Sep 2018
Why is it that whenever someone tells me
to speak up about my problems and open up to them,
all of a sudden, they just become this
uncrossable barrier, so difficult to talk to?

Why does it feel like
they never really meant what they told me
when they said,
"I'm here if you need to talk to anyone"?

And for the past few months,
it has been increasingly lonely.
I don't want to disturb anyone
whenever I want to talk to them.
If I've ever chatted you randomly, please forgive me. I have no one to talk to and I often tell myself I should talk myself out of ending my life, and share my burdens.

But then again, I don't want to disturb anyone by being the daily source of negativity.

I hate being like this, I'm sorry.
M Solav Sep 2018
There are clouds of sound and noise
That utter thoughts in a muffled voice,
Gestures of hands simply won’t cast out
Cloudy skies in days of doubt.

Like strangers lost in a crowd
Whose cries are buried by the loud,
The loud din of helpless wanderers
Whose presence disrupts and disturbs.

All strangers left on their own,
Islands floating out in the fog;
Orphans with cruel fates to bemoan;
Fates that are swept under the rug.

And who's looking with interest, who reaches down with an arm,
Never so eager to help, neither too late nor too soon?
Who would make this world perhaps a little more warm
And freshen the skies of our cloudy afternoon?
Written in December 2017.
Dr zik Mar 2015
I told Him what was in heart
And made a test of my fate
Who challenge the cause of coming?
He wished so I came!
No any other game, no need of fame
He wished I came, same, same, same
-----------------------
Be martyr, victim and clash in conscious
Are deeds of one, who is the patriot
any other big giant who was passerby
I saw and ignored him soon
No any other game, no need of fame
He wished I came, same, same, same
-----------------------
Your anger is chased by a cause
Everyone is changed and stranger
Come on to meet him
Who has left all for you
No any other game, no need of fame
He wished I came, same, same, same
-----------------------
A translation of my own poem written in Urdu language. The name of book is "RAH TAKTI AANKH (راہ تکتی آنکھ)"
Swathi eruvaram Mar 2015
Birds stop chirping
Neighbours stop fidgeting
Maids stop cleaning
Phones stop ringing
Cars stop vrooming
Bikes stop honking
Clocks stop ticking
My little angel is sleeping
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