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AndreHaumea Oct 22
Bad, bugged versions of the same prototype.
We're all different.. But we are all the same.
Carl Webb II Mar 30
demons and angels.
horns and halos.
wings and wings.
even the pharaoh,
born with Plato,
sings and sings:

“I long for heaven
as well as hell.”

these aren’t just sevens,
they’re eights as well.
the time will tell.

—————————————

o’, thank the stars for darkness,
thank the lord for ghouls and goblins,
thanking god for satan’s roar?

playing the cards of hearts
to flash in clubs with diamonds,
save the spades and maybe score?

what more is said
for parity?

win the best and lose some more
for charity?

nevertheless and neverthemore
the wrongs go right
for parody?

enter a death
to save a life,
and lose the mind
to get to therapy?

nothing is left for days
and nights bereft,
we fuss and fight
for clarity.

nothing is left for days
and nights bereft,
we fuss and fight
for clarity.
skye Feb 19
it's sad to know that
there are people who
only hungers justice
when they need to
have a taste of it
we don't live to save ourselves but to save our kind from all the bad things that happen in life

we should be helping one another
Äŧül Oct 2018
6:30 PM 15/10/18 slam poem
"What's her name?" An excited voice whispered.
My benchmate asked me,
Just as the new girl entered,
With all her glowing ebony beauty.

I thought about something,
Ignored him and simply so,
Continuing my reading of the drama.

He prodded on like a nagging child,
"Tell me, Atul, what's her name?
Who's that **** girl?"


His whisper was loud enough now,
The girl heard it as she climbed,
Climbed higher on the back seats and how.

I glared at my benchmate,
In disappointment & disgust,
It was him who I had befriended.

'Him! I befriended him!! Out of them all!!!'
I thought about my vulnerability in our society,
But I did not react to him out of that anger.

I just said, "What's in a name?"
He raised his eyebrows and moaned, "Huh?"
I said with mirth, "Yes! Someone like you will get her renamed!"
7:00 PM
15/10/18
6:30 PM
Half-an-hour slam poem I wrote in the Literary Club at my PhD college.
A tribute to Nirbhaya and women safety all around the globe.
7:00 PM

My HP Poem #1724
©Atul Kaushal
Edric Daumier May 2018
A girl is more than just dresses, butts, and *******,
she is worth more than your dares and bets,
on trying to break her heart,
and break her down.
She is more than just a toy to play with,
until you see her crack and frown.
She is not used to please you, to serve you,
for you to demean her,
a girl is not just something to amuse you,
as if you hired a clown.
No, she is worth more than that, and she deserves more than that,
She deserves to wear a crown.
Allow her to feel like royalty,
not to feel unworthy,
as she walks the streets in fear,
because they say she is flaunting her gifts,
and she is something to hunt, like a game for deer.
No, a girl is someone special,
a girl deserves to show her confidence,
where her body has acceptance,
not of *** or lust,
or of the size of her bust,
but for her self-esteem,
so let her dream,
and make her dreams come true,
where she can wear her pink dress, or skirt that was blue,
and,
she is more than just something for you to do.
a berth
was law
where a
squash was
a plume
in his
breath hitherto
on his
mark then
a flight
to basque
still hung
round him
in the
foothills at
the Bay
of Biscay
he would
   shuffle extremely
well save
that it
didn't fudge
again while
a godsend
must heed
any overdose
really insufferable
and should
let these
die in
peril if
epidemic cease
demand in
the opiates
A dealer ware
Caroline Roche Dec 2017
Must we ask an unpayable fee?
Saying “wait” just to later decline?
It now seems that the land of the free
Is a home that the brave cannot find.

How vexatious that they storm these walls
Pleading reason and asking charity.
Oh, how dare they try escaping home
To a land we brand OPPORTUNITY.

I fear the longing of millions of souls
All brimming with fury and cause
Is more pond’rous than the marching soles
Of the soldiers defending our flaws.
BSeuss Jul 2017
The shapes and shells of a lady bug vary.
Like the patterns of a snowflake.
Don't be ashamed of your image.
Appear as you feel.
(Post Edited)
Äŧül Jan 2017
I'm fabled not to be a ******,
Accused of being a *******.
But I don't have any memory,
Neither of getting under nor of getting on top.

I'm fabled not to be a ******,
Flouted of losing it in Agra.
But I don't have any memory,
Neither of getting inside a hotel nor to the bed.

I'm fabled not to be a ******,
Sentenced not being chaste.
But I don't have any memory,
Neither of getting loved in bed nor of making it.

So I guess that I am as good as a ******.
At least mentally.
I had met with an accident after which I lost selectively few parts of my memory and the girl who accuses me of having bedded her, she has already gotten married and is now busy in casting a blame upon me.

But yes, I agree that there couldn't be a place more romantic than Agra, the city of the Taj Mahal, to lose one's virginity.

In India, the chastity of both boys and girls matters equally for marriage.

My HP Poem #1384
©Atul Kaushal
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