For eight  hours I was dead
Dead in my Luxury lord's bed
I did not care of weather or bread
Life Lynchs me, she's  so rude

I turned left to the wrath of hell
I must tell you, hell is already here
My flesh cozy  but my soul yell
This is the earth that we do share

I had said Kamar is nothing but a myth
I am twice correct But today we meet
Call the priest who collects my tithe
Should I be blind after I paid for sight

The poor man, honey do pour
His healthy heart in tattered coat
The rich man, stings do pour
His thorny heart in costly coat

I stole from myself, the truth
For I am blind of the lamb birth
I chose the Golden crown of earth
For I am sightful of the lustful fruit

I woke up to the man in the mirror
Tears roll his eyes while I smile
Eight hours and it was lemon without fresh lime
Sour and bitter saint of the carcass in the mirror
©Kuvar

If the needle eye will fit a camel., why so hard for the rich?

On top of the world
Watch me as the sun shines
Rays surrounding my silhouette
Watch me as the sun shines
Fire coursing through my veins

Fire
Wisps of smoke trail from my skin
Memories long forgotten emerge
As I slip, sliding off my throne

The crown fell first.
Afterwards the scepter was taken
From my hands by the unfriendly wind

Don't watch me as I fall
My robe trailing behind me
I look like the condemned angel
Only I'm without wings

As I plummet faster and faster
I catch light
I know someone will be wishing on me
Don't watch me as I fall

Don't ask. This poem is open to interpretation, including to myself.

What you give up,
what you disown
What you collect,
what you own.

Search of the world,
remain futile
Until you know ,
nature of own.





Ajay Amitabh Suman

I am the author of this poem. This Poem is my Original work. I hold all the right in relation to my poem, as available in law. No body is entitled the use this poem , or any part thereof in any form without written consent from me.

I failed
Not because
Unable to read
His face.

I failed
Because he is not one,
In fact Many
Trapped inside a case.




Ajay Amitabh Suman

I am the author of this poem. This Poem is my Original work. I hold all the right in relation to my poem, as available in law. No body is entitled the use this poem , or any part thereof in any form without written consent from me.
Mims 1d

Hold a bible
like it's home
the one you have never known
Where stained glass windows
Were the first time you ever saw a dove
Love
That does not come in bottles
the first time you learned to sit still
The first man I was taught to love

I don't come often, but we had lots to discuss, and my bedroom hasn't been the best of places to confess
mk 4d

tell them how you never really had
a relationship with God
he was just somewhere in the
clouds and never in your
thoughts
tell them how you never
really cared to pray
how you'd go through your life
night turning into day
but then she walked in
tell them she walked in
like an angel or a scribe
like someone with light
a savior in disguise
tell them how she gave you
a lot many gifts
tell them how your favorite
was how she gave you faith
she taught you to pray
and to always say
God's name
(but never in vain)
and you often
kissed the words right out
of her mouth
it was holy
in dimensions you couldn't explain
she taught you scripture
wrote you songs
gave you a voice to
talk to God
and you used that voice
every single day
thanking Him for
the blessing he gave
and she was a blessing
oh God she was
like magic and wonder
from above
so pure and innocent
wise and content
her playful smile
and her strength

but she came
and she left
and then there was pain
she brought you the sunshine
then left you with rain
now you're standing here
with faith in your hands
asking God why He let her
leave like that
she gave you a relationship
with something Supreme
but her departure from your life
is a never-ending scream
you don't know if you should
banish God or love
you don't know if you should
pray to the one above
if she was an angel
why does this feel like hell
if she was your savior
why didn't she treat you well
i mean, maybe she did
when you were together
but now that she's gone
your sanity is like a feather
it's twisting and floating
a little beyond the skies
loving her
might not have been wise
she was the connection
between you and heaven
she was the faith
reverting you from being a heathen
what good is faith
with a broken heart
tell them she baptized you
but you don't know where to start
"God,"
you ask him
"is that what angels are?
here for a moment;
then forever in the stars"

your long nights
have just begun
is this the angel's way
of having fun?
too pure too innocent
too kind too good
perhaps this whole thing
was misunderstood
or perhaps this
was the plan all along
you know what they say
only broken hearts find God

keep your faith.

i stopped speaking to god cus he was not replying

was he made up in mind?
was he my kind?
or should i say ‘she’ cus god was not a guy?

grew up religious and orderly
led to question authority

is religion a lie?

"If we meet no gods it is because we harbor none"
And I thought by now I would have garnered one

And how convenient it is to have a god
So in my groups I wouldn't be so odd

An atheist among theists is just as alone
As a peasant being given a throne

Ostracized by the nobles, yet above them
Given the duty to rule and to love them

Once I am done giving egregious groans
I can start standing straight these stones

If my heart cracked open and spilled around
It would drown a town in coffee grounds

And once we rummage through its rubble
No gods would burst from my bubble

No god inside nor without
Only solitude and doubt

It's funny how God,
Far away as he is,
Plays such a powerful role.
We are God's jilted lovers,
We pray for miracles, those kisses of wonder on our ancestors.
But he has left us, and found a prettier planet to put his coat around.

I live in a God's complex
A metropolis of facilities all lined up neatly in rows
One by one, each line of an intelligent design
State of the art insulations perfectly enclosing this refuge
An oasis in the cold, safe from outside harm
Sheltering the lost arts of relaxation and comfort

They say God is blind
Oh so precious was the thought
But from this view
I can see everything
And from the inside
I can hear everything
Carry anything
What could ever tear this down?

Who knows
Only God knows
God's elaborate
God's complex
He oversees everything
Hears everything

But they say God was deaf
That God owed them
A heaven in the skies
That he hears everything
The truths and the lies
But God owns a building complex
Behind walls he was confined
He was a terrorist
By the mask that we assigned
An almost architect
A destroyer nonetheless
And through his own believes
He was once an atheist
A teacher, a student
A son, a mother
A father, a daughter
A cynic and a lover
Conformist and traitor, his own creator
A dreamweaver, human creature, Godmaker
Taking up every living space this world had to offer
Settling in, committing sin
Exploiting God's creations, claiming it theirs
Leeching off all that he is within
Taking and taking as God gave them up out of love
One by one the spaces were occupied
The new Gods came


As all the young and old put words in each other's mouths
Fighting for what was once good, now only selfish
Driven by a need
For a purpose, a calling
A self-fulfilling prophecy to create something out of nothing
They talked in circles and shapes
As he
He didn't say a word
And so they thought he was mute
But they just never listened
Inside these last four walls
He will hear everything
When nothing outside exists anymore
When nothing he's created talks back anymore
When nothing moves, and nothing moves him
Dead silence
He's heard enough
And so on the last day he rested
To never return again


God has a building complex

To renovate
Renovate

Renovating the nothingness inside

I'm not religious, this is an ambiguous piece
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