. . . Does she
                   Kiss you goodbye before
    You leave for work in the morning?

Do you miss her on the week nights
        That she doesn't spend in
   your (our) bed?

             Do you think she picks out
   Places she wants to go
        On the map printed on the
             Inside of the shower curtain
That I only bought
                            Because you liked it

       I find something to miss about you
But it doesn't hurt like it used to

I'm not asking
         Because I'm afraid that you love her

I'm afraid that maybe, you don't . . .
do you know
the feeling when you can't stop thinking about someone?
when a t-shirt reminds you of them?
the pit in your stomach when you hear their name?
the knot in your heart when you scroll past their face?
do you know
that feeling when they're the only person in the room?
when all you can see is them?
when all the words you want to scream at them don't even make a single existence to their face?
do you know these things?
do you feel these things?
when a song isn't just a song anymore
when a day of the week isn't just a day anymore
when a color isn't just a color
when food just doesn't taste as good
when the stars seem to hide their glow
when gravity seems to pull you to your knees
when love as you know it just seems to be slipping from your fingertips...
and you wonder

do you know?
Do not slack
Hold the rhythm tight
The one who takes care
Looks inside
The sound echoes the beat
Beneath to beside
See the morning growing
Do not put aside
The one and the only who takes care
Sees the write

Dr. Baljit Singh
Friday 13th July 2018
Pathetic soul Jul 11
Bigotry is lethal.
When you let him left you in the death of light,
Alone and lifeless and in the edge of dying,
Yet you still beg him to do so.
Bigotry is merciless.
When you let him drown you in a pool of your own blood,
Choked and bruised,
He had no intention to mend you,
And you had no intention to stop him,
You still kissed his feet,
Worship his presence,
And sitting on your knee with his fingers looping your throat.
So tell me if bigotry is okay.
Because all i can see is you being dragged willingly to hell with him albeit you belong in heaven.
Don’t love excessively
by letting myself to dream
I know, I have to do something

Continue Reading?

What’s the point?
Tell me, please.
What’s the point?
Is to keep making poetry?
To avoid the crushing lack of notoriety I am doomed to have?
Maybe, I should just put down my pen,
and abandon any hopes of importance.

I could write an entire story right here, and you’d never know if you didn’t click continue reading,
so much is lost when you don’t continue reading.
My confidence.
The poem.
My mind.
Dean Jul 4
When things become unbearable
Take a while to think about your action
Go ballistic clear your conscience then return to normal
Hate is the enemy let it out do not allow it to dictate your actions
my love for you was altruism and you was ready to do anything just to heal yourself.
Bryce Jun 26
Upon my steel face, will it rain
upon my gleaming eyes, it will be made
the envy of a soul,
trapped in perfect face
to no great final resting place

My legs, drilled into the ground
my eyes, upturned to sky unwound
released of tears and raining down
to broken glass
and grass
their souls unbound

To stare deep into a darkened me,
my admirers creep along my metal sheen
as my material decompose,
to save my thoughts from endless woe

"So long!", will I be endless seen
abrupt, erect, incongruously
commanding these vistal centuries
of concrete and perjury

poking up grey thumbs among the hills
while the putrid stench under burrows
My fingers, ever curled, do maestrate
The doleful victims of that loving fate

And when you walk upon my land,
and see my metal hanging hands
Know my voice, hear my dreams
to never make the enemy of me.
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