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shamori Jan 2019
Father forgive me as your creation.
Your disowned student, the bane and your lost rival.

Doubts and questions since inception about inception. My reception and your deception.

Saving only comes for those worth saving. But you were the one who left me to danger.

I require not a touch nor love from you or those cut from your cloth. Just give me back what you stole from me.

Because I’ve never felt more scattered than when you left me out to live. Rid me of your leadership.
iamtheavatar Nov 2016
This world is but a graveyard
Of kings and kingdoms
Of philosophers and freemen
Of sacrilegious arrogance

For we live in a vast wasteland
Of prospectors and merchants
Only a few steps from oasis
Battling for a distant mirage

Humans are mere beasts
Like hyenas and lionesses
Fighting for supremacy
In this endless ephemerality

**iamthe_avatar ©2016
Thoughts about life.
Beleif Dec 2015
Across the ocean's dome,
Controlled by piercing shouts without a doubt;
On an altar in the distance:
An open book with censored words!
Tear a page,
Observe the rage.
Not what any freedom fighter would.

In a rowboat in the open,
Draw the source of their devotion.
Pencil sketch the jagged beard,
And stretch the nose a thousand years.

What a time to strike some fear!

The terrorists will echo with madness,
The pen is your sword.
The innocent will run to the forests,
And the artists make war.

Across the desert homes,
Contained by giant seas to some degree;
In a planetary orbit:
A crying team with crooked teeth!
See the page,
The winds enrage.
Not what any freedom lover should.

Bullets charge at the comedian's door,
Burning down all the carpenter's lore.
Sculptors mourne over severed stones,
The innocent turn, yearn, learn...

The invasions form, warn, and burn.

As the terrorists echo with madness,
Hold the pen as your sword.
As the innocent run to the forests,
Let the artists make war.

Throw the drawings ashore!
Prelude of "Pennons of Madness."
Sag Aug 2014
They say everyone has a chance
for eternal life if they accept Him.
They say "the blood of Christ will
make hearts white and cleanse them."
What about the girl whose heart beats
for another girl under her sheets?
Or the boy who was born in sin
lusting over and loving men?
Who makes those sinners well?
If love condemns me to Hell
then I want no part in this holy land
because I only feel heaven when I'm holding her hand.
And if that's wrong
then I don't want to be right
because her blood will cleanse me
and make my heart light.
So call me Judas Iscariot
or nail me to a cross
But love is a battle I've fought and fought
And I won't take this loss.
Äŧül Mar 2014
People on earth are segregated,
Their identities always unique.
Not just fingerprints or birth marks,
But exist many more identity marks.
Can be religious like any tilak,
Can also be sacrilegious things.

Mellifluous activity it seemed,
Descended upon me as death.
Even I have some sacrilegious scars,
I will carry them as vestiges of past..
Past where just pain was felt,
Days when only torture was.

Till I get better I can just wait,
Rubbing clear my ***** slate.
Allowing life to smile with herself,
Found her as my pure happiness...
Just waiting for her to come,
I wait in complete patience.
My HP Poem #592
©Atul Kaushal

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