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(धर्म के ठेकेदारों से परमात्मा कहते है)

दिखावटी सा लगता है ये प्रेम तुम्हारा,
जो तुम मुझे बार बार दिखलाते हो।
बनावटी सी लगती है तुम्हारी सारी बातें,
जो तुम मेरे बारे मे औरों को बतलाते हो।

पहले खुद ही लड़ते हो, फिर खुद ही डर जाते हो,
बार बार मेरे ही नाम पर, ये हथियार क्यों उठाते हो?
मै ही तुम्हारा निर्माता, मै ही जगत रचयिता,
फिर मुझको किससे भय, जो तुम हर बार मेरी रक्षा करने चले आते हो?

दिखावटी सा लगता है ये प्रेम तुम्हारा,
जो तुम मुझे बार बार दिखलाते हो।

मुझको बाँट दिया तुमने धर्मों मे, दे दिये कई भिन्न नाम,
फिर क्यों दिन ओ रात खुद के दिए उसी नाम को गलियाते हो?
तुम भी मेरे ही बच्चे, वो भी है संतानें मेरी,
फिर क्यों एक दूसरे को भाई बोलने से तुम कतराते हो?

हर मुश्किल में, हर एक मुसीबत मे साथ तुम्हारे खड़ा मैं,
बावज़ूद इसके, क्यो तुम मेरा नाम लेने से हिचकिचाते हो?
जब सत्य जानते हो कि मै ही अल्लाह, मैं ही येशु, मैं ही हुं श्रीराम,
तो इतनी सी बात को स्वीकार करने मे तुम इतना क्यों सकुचाते हो?

दिखावटी सा लगता है ये प्रेम तुम्हारा,
जो तुम मुझे बार बार दिखलाते हो।
A poem about rising religious intolerance in the name of Almighty.
thepoeticwit Apr 13
we are wanderers in a foreign land, exiles in search of home.
nomads who shift through dirt and sand.

Is this where we belong?
A desert, a wilderness.
A path made through promise of a kingdom paradise,
so close and yet so far away.

40 days and 40 years
are but a lifetime
our lives are but a wilderness
though we fast and pray
trials and temptations come our way

Be not fooled by Devil's sweet whispers
But continue past these 40 days
and though you fail in one way

There is One who fasted and prayed
overcame, and calls to you

"Behold, the Kingdom is near"

mindlessly passed through to the end of Lent, and I didn't really fast and pray, what more succumbing to my sins. But a firm reminder of Jesus who succeeded in His fast and prayer, right through His passion, death and ressurection. Though I fail, He succeeds on my behalf, and has mercy on me.
Nala Alfira Feb 17
the light ripped the darkness apart
and in that daybreak i see my future

things i nurture will be taken away
dreams i want will never come true
people i love, i'll need to let go
pain i suffer, i'll have to endure

i'll lose it all,
but i'll be fine
as long as i remember you,
i'm complete
about coping with recurring traumatic life events
Filomena Jan 27
My poetry *****
I've zero *****
To give my art
My empty heart
Devoid of feel
Has no appeal
Toward the sheep
Who watch me weep
A worthless sound
A spring unwound
Potential spent
Becoming bent
Approaching death
Jehovah saith
He shall be ******
The preacher groaned
In deep denial
We must revile
All things defiled
And we deny
That one divine
These horrors binds
Into our lives
As such we try
In faith to live
As we forgive
Ourselves alone
As He atoned
For us, but you
He would not do
An invitation
You can't take
Unless you fake
The way we do
And say it's true
What's in our book
Just take a look
And soon you'll see
Belongs to me
--I mean to Him
His power's within
My mortal flesh
And who would guess
That it was me
Was meant to be
A chosen one
A pointed gun
At those He hates
His wrath abates
When fire is cold
And time gets old
As was foretold
By prophets bold
Great men of old
Religion sold
The people told
Their word of gold
But on inspection
Their intention
Is control
To be the sole
And keep the people quieter
The evening of January 15, 2022
To break my writer's block,
I decided to write a string of rhyming couplets.
This was the result.
agatha Dec 2021
on some days water would fall down
in heavy buckets; ravaging the hungry earth
stricken— a wave of drought.
the tiny specks of life swimming along
the expanse of the universe would
scatter to have a taste of the heavens
and quench the need of being human.
some would build infrastructures
as great as  lunar craters
to catch every miniscule drop
that comes from the sky,
only to keep it in their possession,
never to see another ray of light.
those who have an abundance
seem to have a hard time giving—
hands formed into fists uncaring.
what can be gripped, cannot be taken away.
in this water, there will be power.

what do the others do then?

in a morbid sense of camaraderie,
those who have their hands open, cupped,
palms facing the heavens,
can funnel grace into the palms
of another.

maybe this is where I will believe,
despite the flashes of greed and envy,
the kingdom of a god
will always belong to the poor.
the poorest have the most to give.
Mitch Prax Aug 2021
I have come to realize that
we, humans,
have a religion-shaped hole
in all of our hearts.
What do you fill yours with?
FiguringItOut Jul 2021
I thought expressing how I’m feeling would be freeing.
I told them they were a fraud.
All-knowing, but clueless about ‘being’.
A narcissistic deity with no right to call itself God.

An entity so powerful it can create a universe in six days,
But it created a boy who every time he starts something, cannot commit.
A boy so riddled with self-loathing that every day was a haze.

I  told it,
“I’m afraid.”
That night I laid in bed thinking of more ways to describe the blades I felt piercing my heart.  The jaded and absent almighty father who may as well have abandoned me and left me with the maid.

This is why I stopped being religious in the seventh grade.

And this was a desperate plea.
I can’t get to sleep.
The weight of the world is the weight of my sheets.
Try to get up, but everything’s spinning.
I asked God,
“Is this just the beginning?”


That’s all that it said.
Ghosted by God like it had a hot girl at a bar’s passive nonchalance.
And it fills me with dread.  Like I was just diagnosed with lung cancer.

But I told God, “What I’m most afraid of is losing hwr.”
I meant to say her,
a textual slur,
but at least that plea will live on,
Despite no answer.
Edgy poem about a girl I wrote a few years ago.
Gabriel Jul 2021
An Easter banquet.
A Good Friday fast
that ends in gorging.
A slaughtered lamb
with hands and flesh
on the table.
Blood on the napkins
and silence.
Emptiness at the head
of the table,
save for forks scraping
cheap porcelain.
We save the good plates
for good days,
so naturally,
they’ve never been used.
I wonder
how it feels
to have never
held food in my palms.
Give me five thousand
and I will feed them all.
Give me an
all-you-can-eat buffet
and I’ll turn it down.
I am faceless, but
not in this crowd.
A crowd, yes,
but not this one.
I’m the B-lister of the Bible.
From a portfolio I wrote in third year of university, titled 'Infestation'.
Ahmad Attr Jul 2021
Next please,
Now I know you
You are desperate
For girls, for love
But you can’t get any in this world
My 10 fingers, break them
Get your ticket to heaven
Make sure you hear the slow cracks
Blessed will be your ears

Next please,
Now I know you
You are pretentious
You are selfish
You think you are the greatest in this world
I offer you my arms
Get your ticket to heaven
Shatter them with a hammer
Make sure you shout out loud when you hit
Blessed will be your lungs

Next please,
Now I know you
My dear friend, you are a good person
But you are doubtful
So confirm your eternal blessings in the after world
I offer you my ears
Get your ticket to heaven
They are not as kind as yours, so cut them apart
Blessed will be your heart

Next please
I don’t think I know you
But you are all the same
Hateful, insecure, hypocrites
I allow you to remove this filth from the world
I offer you my legs
Get your ticket to heaven
Break each digit first and then slice them slowly
Blessed will be your skin where my slain blood will land

Next please
Oh! I know you guys
You gorge on the flesh of your brethren
Serpents, betrayers
Everything wrong in this world
I offer nothing
The poison in your words
**** your tickets to heaven

Are there more left, Next please
I know you too
Too scared to go to hell?
Well you, my dear, are lucky today
No more anxiety will be left in this world
For I offer my eyes
Gauge them out with your claws
Get your ticket to heaven
Don’t worry I will writher in pain
Blessed will be your hands

Next please
Now I know you too well
I can feel you from your heartbeat
Dear Whisperer, I saved the best for last
For you, I offer my heart
Although it always belonged to you
But wait for a moment
You can take it whole
Break my neck
Skin me, push the blades deeper in my belly
Burn my hair, yank out my nails
Hang my body or whatever that remains
In front of everybody
So they could curse at me
And Get their tickets to heaven
This was written the day I realized that the friends I made were my enemies all along. So you can feel my frustrations and anguish here.
She sits on the cold tile floor
Her life flashes before her eyes
4 am regrets.

The lack of sleep is just getting to her.

The shadows loom over the curtains
The pictures of her past start collapsing on the floor
Her head hits the back of the wooden bed panel

Could you wish for anything more unhanded?

The music from the neighbors flat echoes into the night
The barely visible drawings on the wall sneer at her
Its past her bedtime.

Who are you waiting up for anymore?

The ringing in her ears grow louder
The hours pass by slipping through the cracks of the drain.
Who are you crying to anymore?

There is no one to confess to.

The mirror overshadows the bed like church pews at midnight
She tells her that she never loved her.
She disappeared into the clouds that loom over the moon.

Her watch tells her to sleep.

She sighs and climbs back into bed
She remembers that she never loved her.
She remembers the scars that trail along her back.

Her life cannot help but flash before her eyes.

The ceiling morphs and twists
Her eyes flutter shut as her mind plays its tricks
She caresses the scars that itch at the roots of her hair.

Maybe its better this way for everyone.

She can no longer hear the heart beating slowly in the closet
Her mother told her that she is worthless
She begs for the sleep to take her.
Before her mind starts wandering to that point.

The darkness feels cool against her skin
The crooked mattress settling in its place
She sleeps on her side to avoid the bedroom mirror
The world grows still around her as it walks

on ******* eggshells.

The dawn permeates through the broken window sill
She never was a heavy sleeper.
She went missing out of nowhere
The ringing of her phone echoed in her ears

like Sunday bells.

And there was no more trace of the former shadows that pitifully gazed at her in the corners of her room.

yoOOu never loved me moooooooom but i needed you woaAaah
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