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Àŧùl Mar 2017
I want to take you away, dear,
Forcefully or not it's your wish.
Of your beauty I am an admirer,
Your veiled sweet internal beauty.
Even you are not aware of that,
Changing bodies like clothes,
I remember our past lives.
Past life regression creative imagination

My HP Poem #1458
©Atul Kaushal
cait Mar 2017
do you feel safe within yourself?
do your beliefs battle your feelings?




what can i do to fight a winning battle?
Cate Mar 2017
How many more beers until the moon looks full again
How many before I've made some friends
Combined, is it enough to make me whole, then?
I’ll keep drinking until I reach a dead end.

How many sips does to take to reach the truth
How many to bridge the distance between me and you.
If I sip long and hard, will it be easier to let loose?
I’ll keep sipping til it’s warm and I'm old news.

How many steps before I find the path I should be on?
How many before I know it’s the right one?
If I keep on stepping, will I find myself on the proper side of the sun?
I suppose I’ll keep stepping along.

How many sleepless hours until I've cracked the code?
How many split the difference between insane, and genius mode.
If I fake it til I make it,  when I've made it, how will I know?
I’ll only be up a few more minutes or so.




C.e.M.
Cate Feb 2017
In a dream,
a wispy woman
wafts down to me
and whispers quietly,
"window, or mirror?"
repeatedly until it echoed
as a haunting melody
of indecipherable melancholy.

I awoke as the sun suggested.
Awaiting the play of penitence
to present itself
as the heat of a distant star
masqueraded behind skies
gessoed grey.

The ethereal muse still perched
behind conscious mind,
eyes searching for a tangible answer
to reply, but found nothing,
save my reflection in the half light
and small slivers of outside
through Venetian blinds.
Dec. 16, 2016
sks Jan 2017
Let my enemies stand before me
baring their fangs like wild dogs
as they circle around
minds racing
finding a weakness

Let them establish a plan
to drench the earth before us
with the stench of scarlet blood
whomever’s it may be
in the end

For I will fight the good fight
even if the last thing i swallow
is the pain that encumbers my every fiber
my last breathe will not be in vain
but one less they will be able to take

For my last giving moments
will be tough earned
and the last thing that will slip from my lips
will be a promise of vengeance
if that is the way the earth mote it be
I wrote this after reading the book 'Way of the Peaceful Warrior'. It is all about the internal struggles we face; for those are always the hardest and bloodiest battles.
Àŧùl Dec 2016
He was made Dust bin Laden finally!
HP Poem #1338
©Atul Kaushal
Colten Sorrells Nov 2016
005
I agree and nod my head
I didn't hear a word you said
I'm tuned into the grinding gears
that cause that ringing in my ears



*11/17/16
00:31
I feel like maybe something in there is about to break, if it hasn't already
Viseract Nov 2016
What you said, breaks me
And how I react, makes me
Seen some stuff that's shady
These memories, haunting

I tried to run, tried to fight
By tooth and claw, spit and bite
But sometimes, with head in hands
It hits so hard that I can't stand

Turns to red, drips to the floor
Zipping skin, can't take no more
Making mistakes that I can't face
And praying for it to be erased...

This broken life....
Live and die....


By my word, I will stand
Whether I'm alone, I. Don't
Care!

Fighting back, battlefront
Too familiar to get lost
With these words you draw my blood
Knock me down into the mud

You push me away...
Fading, every day!


By my word, I will stand
Whether I'm alone,
I don't care!

Use my mind, got a plan
Time to rise, to take a stand
Fight the evil, banish these demons
Internally so you can't see them

Better run, it's my time
To make or break this cursed lifeline
Face the darkness, fight to win
I'll say goodbye though it's not the end

*I will stand, alone again,
Til the end, I won't pretend
It's not easy but it must be done...
Robin MacCuish Oct 2016
My poetry and I fight
with guns and knives
looking for something that just feels right
standing somewhere close
are the things we cannot see
for the light and bright we fight for
blinds us to friends and makes of us
enemies again
so we fight in fright
of a word made from violence  
inside this head.
Cate Sep 2016
Strawberry sun
hot on swaying hips

a shimmer of skin,
sultry beacon of temptation.

Days smear in sweat
and grass stains.

Twilight carries dusty toes
a few steps further.

Legs dangling, lonely
top of rusted tower,

Moon whispering
“come and kiss me”.

Languid laughter lilts
lining ancient constellations

Space(s) [is] filled
By our separation.

Cicadas croon,
Biding elusive slumber,

dawn’s yellow tendrils grasp eyelashes,
rays morph into rivers of light.

Time, the illusion of a tether;
A notion of perpetual motion

Adrift an absent-minded sea,
Hazy, evasive sleep

Our ropes will fray
in wisps and waves of heat.

C.e.M.
31082016
fun piece I wrote for a competition
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