In a broad kindred of spirits collide,
Too each is each to own and then we reply.

For where art thou darker days? Tucked behind us, spread like paste. Beneath a new chapter is where it lays.

A folding eyelid above beholds.
Temperatures swell, tempation creeps, weather is cold.

Are we not our own or do we just do as we are told? Again into the fold, clouds gather ahead, I clinch tight to my soul.

It's just that Im really not a good person. But I keep following this glow. Into the dark again I go.

A strange connection between what you consider real or make belief.
A thin rope dangles above from the fall that balanced and centered me.

For all that I appreciate and sense to be. For life finally making sense to me. Im circled by Death, teaching me something I have yet to be.

Echo knows eternity. A perfect gift from me to you from the lights of which you were meant to be. You are to your ability, able to be. Deep within your reach is where your meant to be...

Learning how walk on my own two feet.

i look up

i see the veins

running down his muscular legs

like snakes

reaching out

like ivy like a castle wall

with cracks and graffiti on it

he’s got a lot of tats

and some hair

some red hair

fucking ginger….

reminds me of the white grass

after i killed the guy in it

Atul Kaushal Aug 1

Wait, if you are mature enough for that.
Love the dream of a beautiful future mate.
Work, on your health and even your career.
Love yourself to be loved by someone else.

My HP Poem #1647
©Atul Kaushal

The Feeling that just can't let you go..
The Feeling like there are no one but you.
The Feeling that being with you, around you, somehow, just perfect.
The Feeling that our imperfections that's what made us perfect..

for you. because i was your forever.
Atul Kaushal Jul 15

I have understood
Over the last decade
That I'm unlovable
And an eternal failure

Only my parents care for me
First Gods they are for me

Truly selfless they have been
Really supportive in my life
Unwavering their commitment
They are the only permanence
Hurting them will be my sin

I may be unlovable for some people,
But for my parents I am the prime,
And I have truly realized it finally.

To hell with all those unfaithful lovers.

My HP Poem #1624
©Atul Kaushal
D A N E Jul 15

How are you?
Nice meeting you.
I like you.
You are everything.
I love you.
Forever and always.
We are happy.
We were happy.
But then again,
You left me.
You hurt me.
What went wrong?
You got bored?
You broke me.
I was broken.
And then suddenly,
You are here.
Out of nowhere,
You came back.
I am sorry.
I was wrong.
One more chance.
Words you've said.
Words I've heard,
from your mouth,
full of lies.
Mischief and deceit.
I'm not stupid.
I am strong.
I am healing.
Slowly but surely.
And I replied,
You should leave.
Let me be,
Finally moving on.

Starts with Hey.
Ends with goodbye.
Paul Jones Jul 2

I drift with the flow      that will carry me
a thousand miles far,     a thousand nearer.

12:00 - 02/07/17
State of mind: joy.

Thoughts: from thinking - If you listen very carefully and thoughtfully, directions can be found in everything... the choices we make; a yes or no to the emerging map of our existence, unfolding like the petals of a flower.

Questions: what direction is taken if given?

There’s an emptiness about it
Just words on a page
Just thoughts on a screen
And nothing more

Although there was a time, when I really let myself hope
I’ve kind of moved beyond that
Although she is as beautiful as the sun, the moon or any sort of imagery I could depict
I know that it’s not for me to see
Her footprints are in front of me
Moving out into the darkness of this good night

You just know some times, because…
You try, and live and breathe, and get up every day and, try again
But some things no matter how hard you try, just aren’t meant to be
You can’t even ask for them
She is one such thing

I’m really thankful for her, and I don’t tell her but…she’s often on my mind

I wish I knew her
Better than I know my own mind and my own person
Because she is
Not just worth knowing, but worth memorizing and understanding

Time and time again
Because she is

Written impromptu to the tune of track 09 - The Feeling That Doesn't Reach

To:  A Flaming Heart
            Of the Hedonistic School

From:  A Slow-Burn Refugee
                Of the Broken-Back-Pack-Mule


I've had dreams by day   
That brought the nightmares back.
In the daylights exposure it was dark   
When the negative light was bright.

In the sea of people
I was the floating remains
Of a Great White's meal.   
On the lonely roads of thought

My mind was in gridlock.
Comforting memories were suspended
Over a psychic black hole
By jagged and rusted

Medieval-type surgical tools.
My remaining senses
Were nailed to a cross-section
Of psychically atrophied grey matter

Along neural pathways
Guarded by gladiator-type tormentors
Left with nothing
But the stinging desire to be freed

From a curse that had to be cured
And the hell of searching for a cure
When I was convinced there wasn’t one.
The powers that be come with force

To quell primal lusts & desires
Forbidding you of them
As they seductively
Dangle them before your eyes
Until you are so frustrated and unfulfilled
That you no longer
Care for your world.   
This cracked glass remains empty

Even though it is constantly being filled
Then spilled or leaked on the floor
Until you learn to lap it up
Like the lapdog that you have become

For their amusement.
You remain with a love for freedom  
But your cage is so large   
That you think you are free

Lost in societal fantasy.
You think for a while
That these fantasies are real   
Until you come to your senses that aren’t

As you join other fools   
In comfort that you're not the only
Broken-back pack-mule.   
But in spite of it all

And in the face of them all
Don't let these birds of prey                                                          
An­d powers that be
Deprive you of what they can't see

In that hidden corner
Of what is still untouched
The real you
Uninfected by the world.   

Take care of your spiritual affairs.
Don't let the global beast
And your primal hissing forces
Make you be your own pallbearer.

--Daniel Irwin Tucker

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