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Francie Lynch Jan 2018
I've written so many,
Some  grandiose, some terse,
And published them here,
To express and converse.
But the most pretentious of all
You've read or passed over,
Is  The Invisible Poem,
Subtitled, Blank Verse.
Some gave it their blessings,
Some cried foul, and some cursed.
Isn't brevity the soul of wit; (Shakespeare)
Writing is 1% inspiration, 99% elimination; (Louise Brooks)
To write good poems is the secret of brevity; (Dejan Stojanovic)
So,
Be sincere. Be brief. Be seated. (FDR)
Take it as is,
For better or worse.
I'm still having fun with this one.
Craving for victory
And Chasing for fame,
Thought only of power
And labored for name.

Soaring up above &
Keeping head high.
Not humble as ever
And rude was reply.

Riding for Zenith
And dreaming Sky,
Not knowing to walk
Knows only to fly.

A Hurricane is Fast
and River is slow,
But which last longer
A Gusting or flow?

Victory Important
Defeat is but must,
It makes you polite
& humble Just trust.

I saw him broken
At coming not first ,
Could not accepted
He could not adjust.

Enjoying the Success
And  Power, Speed,
Not agreed for failure
He did not accede.

Not rooted on soil
On ground so fade.
Not pliant,so shaken
That man, Ego Made.



Ajay Amitabh Suman
All Rights Reserved
When Jesus said I
and father are one,
come to me you all
Before I am gone.

Declared the krishna
that I am the one,
Who created the world
all things have come.

And under the Bodhhi
When buddha attained,
Bursting with joy then
Humbly proclaimed.

Which cannot be seen
Which cannot be known,
That nothing is me
That void, that none.

Then often you ask
And wanted reply,
A Jesus , A Budhha
Egoistic so, why.

What they conveyed
you never perceived,
With clouds in mind
Truth seldom received.

When they asserted
themselves so high,
You looked at them
With doubting eye.

Your ego is trouble
And it is the one,
doubtIng forever, in
Always suspicion.

Either you boost it
Or get it nurtured,
At times pretending
You Look so cultured.

In Krishna, in Jesus
Where is me, my,
They refer the source
When speak of I.

Mirrors are they
and simply reflect,
Who ever you are
What ever project.

Until  you know
language unknown,
No one expecting you
Rightly respond.

The Krishna,The Budhha
The Jesus, names long,
recognize them always
After they gone.

The Nanak, Laotse
Same Light with names.
Where ever you touch
The sea remains the same.

Ajay Amitabh Suman
              ‎
All Rights Reserved
Azrapse Jan 2018
I’m prey to my ego
It always lets out the worst in me
Greed always seems to consume me
And when I clench a bottle
I won’t let go till it’s empty
These bad habits slowly turning
me to an addict
But I have no self control
It’s like the little devil on my shoulder
Took out my little angel
The one that’s supposed to keep
him on check
I wonder where I went wrong
Now in days I’m such a wreck
I swear I try to walk with god
But my demons keep pulling me back
Star BG Jan 2018
The vicious ego dog has bitten.
Tearing my cord of optimism,
My connection to heart.

Its deadly grip
***** life force energies
and truth as I gasp for air.

It vibrates with words
drowning out heart whispers,
severing flow of
God's symphony of words.

And so I crawl trying to stand
the way I was before depression hit

Trying to see sun behind
clouded skies.
attempting to release
untruths that bombard with
bullets of judgements
that go deep.

Only cure shots from an angels voice,
guide or The Divine.
Fortitude and focus becomes friend
to fight the ill results
until healing begins
and dog is put to sleep.
I wrote this a week or so ago when I was going through some challengers.
Oka Dec 2017
Two hearts are never one,
that's why a couple is two humans.
Our relationships are mutual ego feeding,
one craving attention and affection,
the other hungry for lust.
Make me your number one
and tonight I will accompany you til you are done.
valerie megan Dec 2017
You’re pretending not to know me
You’re saying you did that out of pity

I’ve got every single reason to hate you
But why can’t I?
I’ve tried a hundred thousand times to hate you
But at the end of the day, I’ll keep coming back to you

Why would you do such l
And then something inside me whispers
An almost-unheard voice
A voice from somewhere inside
“Because his ego is freaking high,” it whispers
i’m getting sick of this heart
Gabriel burnS Dec 2017
Dipped for years in sensory deprivation, my heartstrings had atrophied to the point of numbness. Self-harm was my only tool of getting feelings into my system… My voice was screams confined in vacuum. My smile came up only as burns and blisters blissfully stretching on each side of my surface.
Where am I now? I'm out. Prison break successful. My thoughts were the bars; my self-loathing, my walls; my heart was the lock… Did I carve out the key out of my guts? Was it a re-purposed rib? I can't recall. But I'm out now. And I'm real. I gave myself shape and soul. A second chance.
I have two wings; one black, one white… And I… forgave the past. And my veins carry freedom towards my brain, feeding every synapse. Thank you everyone, who loved me when I was the least deserving. May You be blessed!
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