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to be determined Nov 2018
hark! I am greeted by angels
each with devil horns and
spikes in their backs
blackmailing my feet to lead me
away from from the shining seas
twinkling eyes and fluttered eyelashes
fare thee well in these trying times
they screech at me from
their balconies
all I can do is cry
deep in my hands
cracking my nose with my knuckles
Paramjeet Singh Nov 2018
Years.. I've spent on the people that I loved once, putting them first before my own self.. Self... WOW... Mistakes were made, it was too late.. when i realised, but I still Recognised... Through the foggy days and thunderous nights,

Time doesn't change nor does it change you, only you, your self, your own consciousness and self awareness is what allows you to adapt and change  by self by observing the true reality, only through the eyes of your own,

When I think, am surrounded by the thoughts of possibilities which are pushed aside, not focused on and neglected like life... Make me wonder times I spent in the past, years go by and I look and still ask my self who am I?

A purpose we all live for to survive , some do well so don't.. But it all depends on how we approach opportunities in life, its how we do it it's how we survive... To be Continued...
Äŧül Apr 2015
I recovered from the night again,
She had disappeared once more,
Was she using me as a ******???

I was frustrated & also saddened,
My self-control got strengthened,
For I was not a tissue to be used!!!

I have my feelings & my emotions,
Presence and absence torture me,
Ego I had tamed got hurt by now...

I won't let that elusive Angel come,
Questioning I must be her realities,
Illusions will end this time finally!!!

I'll establish an identity of my own,
Dependent I'll not be on the angel,
Was she only a dream & no more???

I had duly asked the aged captain,
To search a lovely bride very soon,
Oh, so sure I am about afterwards...

I was tailed by the spirit-like angel,
So irritated by her dreary dreams,
On-off, came-gone, again & again!!!

I now would learn to catch angels,
With the plan, I went to the mage,
Should I now learn some spells???

I entered through a dark alleyway,
Was told to visit this strange place,
What comes across - I wondered...

I knocked the door & she appeared,
Very young she seemed to me now,
Just the age of the angel of dreams!!!

I noticed that she wore a long robe,
So shiny it was silvery like her hair,
Just like the angel of dreams wore...

I rubbed my tired eyes in disbelief,
"Who're you?" I asked very loudly,
"Are you the mage's daughter???"

I wondered for long & she replied,
"Your guess is correct, kind Sailor,"
She beckoned me into the shack...

I set my foot on the wooden floor,
I look for any sign of the mage,
I want to be set free of the cage!!!

I just thought & thought about it,
But the witch was not to be seen,
Curious I asked, "Where is she???"

"I am my mother," she said calmly,
Perplexed I couldn't say a thing,
My mouth opened once & shut...

I was now about to rise & go away,
But she stopped me with her arms,
"I must show you," so she did say!!!

I did not believe what my eyes saw,
How she changed into the old mage,
Then back into her own daughter???

O I had become confused a lot now,
Why would she transform like this,
I feared if it was actually the angel...
Read 'Angel?' saga part 1/7 here:

Read 'Angel?' saga part 2/7 here:

Read 'Angel?' saga part 3/7 here:

Read 'Angel?' saga part 4/7 here:

Read 'Angel?' saga part 5/7 here:

Read 'Angel?' saga part 6/7 here:

Read 'Angel?' saga part 7/7 here:

This is the 'Angel?' series part 5/7.

My HP Poem #850
©Atul Kaushal
Marcus Belcher Dec 2015
I have felt it
That flow that nature follows
In my feet darken with earth
Upon my hands the wind lays
Through the light that burns my eyes

I have seen it
In actions of man
Instincts of animals
Patterns in the clouds
Within myself
I plan on expanding alot more with this one. Feels like it needs to be a long poem.
The voice inside her head said "do it"
The heart inside her chest refused
The instinct burned throughout her *****
But the daring part of her pursued...
Styles May 2014
The creaking and creeping sounds of the old, rotting house, hang in the background. The aged, hardwood floors; snap, crackle, and pop under the weight of my footsteps. The scent of burnt; cinnamon scented burnt candle wax, slighted tainted by the stench of cheap cigarette smoke lingers throughout the room spilling into the hallway.

The broken ceiling fan humming, as it rocks back and forth as if it will soon fall off of its axle.

The cigarette; still lite, hanging on the edge of the ash tray – smoke trails floating up towards the window, escaping as it’s pulled out of the window, dissipating off into the dark, cool, midnight air.

The alarming sounds of alley cats fighting; shrieks and high-pitch screams echo off in the distance. The loud hissing and screams suggest two cats, within close proximity to house, furiously fighting over freshly picked dinner scarps.

All starch in comparison to your disposition.

You wept that night, the tears pouring from your eyes, spilling into your tissue boxed; tucked closely beside you. Lip stick smeared *To be Continued

— The End —