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Àŧùl Jun 2015
I have set the priorities in my life,
You're my top priority future wife,
What bothers you is my top strife.
I chuck those parts out of my life,
You should not worry future wife,
What in front of you is such a strife.
Over me I give you exclusive rights.
I was ready for it buddy.
It is not something unexpected.
I request you to please calm down.
If you don't like some people, it's fine,
Then I won't like them either.

My HP Poem #877
©Atul Kaushal
Isabella styles May 2015
I finally figured out
as I fell in love
you simply grazed it
I'm still fallen'
Jude Harlow Nov 2014
I can’t write stories, they take too long
I've lost my rhythm, I can’t write a song…
I haven’t missed anyone long enough to write while they’re gone
perhaps its a defect behind a facade held strong

My anger, a rapture, is forgotten right after
words can’t describe, they won’t capture
I’m left to manufacture false emotions and stature
I fall short what I’m after and its obvious
Asa D Bruss Oct 2014
I lay in the light of the light that I lay.
And I shed the air
and I shine all the light
that promised to be shed
anyway.

Unto you a chill is given
unto you a shame is born.
Because of you the earth is willing
your silence has caused the stones to swarm.
Show me soul
show me mind
show me space
show me time

It's hard to change a people.
A person is quite enough.
So am I and are you so
good to me  greater to be.
I see.

You don't want to know what you want to know.
If you knew you could be
what you know you are, and you see.

Because it's obvious.
seriously, it's sitting right there.
like a dead puppy on your lap

meaning- less
meaning- lost
meaning- found
ational
Ecclesiastes Chapter 1
Alex Sep 2014
What rarity can acclaim to this elusive title? Where surely
claiming it itself is against its nature.
It might be what our mothers told grubby faced, knee
knocked flecks that dart from graffitied parks
when light turns dark.
Is it in the eye of the beholder, a stubborn piece
of irritating dust? Perhaps those who search
will never be rewarded with a glimpse as
perfection becomes unfathomably further.
Why does the haughty swan rise when the
it squawks more than the pigeon?

Beauty is boxed. It is wrapped in parcels and
swaddled in ribbon until one forgets that it is in the child's
face and not his hands.
Unmeasurable pleasure shouldn't be contained, it roams and commands like a caged tiger. It controls the eye and navigates,
onward soldier. So perhaps it is not rare at all but there
for all customary enough to
anticipate the undeniable.
Can't tell if this even makes sense. Oh well.

— The End —