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"achievements" poems
Great tragedy suffered, Impossible circumstances conquered, The warrior walks upon the field flanked path. The wanderer's armor tells a tale, Battle scarred and partially rent asunder, A face of stoicism that hides the haggardness underneath, Peeking out beneath the mask of a hardened soldier. The clouds clap ahead, preceded by flashes of light brightly illuminating the world, Accompanied shortly after by the rainfall. A trickle becomes a downpour, The battered individual trudging along as the road becomes a bog of mud and slop, The message firmly planted within their mind. Coming upon the dark outline of the castle ahead the warrior picks up pace, Reflecting upon what would happen to those that the Warrior helped. The pace is now fueled by a different kind of urgency. The rain is cold upon the face's of those that it falls on, The torn edges of metal digging in at places, Some already wounded and tender, As the final hilltop between them is crested. The gates are closed, And this loyal soldier is for the moment shut out, A fist is raised, The declaration of allegiance given, An angry detailing of the warriors achievements and adventures shouted, And a challenge of one's path, Building in anger and fury as the dam finally breaks and gushes forth, Threatening to shatter the gate and doors to splinters and twisted metal. A long ago promised gift to be rewarded, For all the things endured, Things that could be considered so cruel, The storm picks up in force until it's akin to that of a hurricane, As if brought forth by the warrior's grief and pain finally being released, For the first and only time. These things ringing out despite the storms roaring wind, Gathering force, Perhaps in affirmation of the warrior's words. After a pause the gate begins to lift, It's metal screeching, The doors groaning as they begin to swing outward, and the battered soldier is bathed in light, Taking the weight from the warrior's shoulders, As the threshold is finally crossed.
0
May 12, 2018
May 12, 2018 at 9:22 PM UTC
Threshold
Great tragedy suffered, Impossible circumstances conquered, The warrior walks upon the field flanked path. The wanderer's armor tells a tale, Battle scarred and partially rent asunder, A face of stoicism that hides the haggardness underneath, Peeking out beneath the mask of a hardened soldier. The clouds clap ahead, preceded by flashes of light brightly illuminating the world, Accompanied shortly after by the rainfall. A trickle becomes a downpour, The battered individual trudging along as the road becomes a bog of mud and slop, The message firmly planted within their mind. Coming upon the dark outline of the castle ahead the warrior picks up pace, Reflecting upon what would happen to those that the Warrior helped. The pace is now fueled by a different kind of urgency. The rain is cold upon the face's of those that it falls on, The torn edges of metal digging in at places, Some already wounded and tender, As the final hilltop between them is crested. The gates are closed, And this loyal soldier is for the moment shut out, A fist is raised, The declaration of allegiance given, An angry detailing of the warriors achievements and adventures shouted, And a challenge of one's path, Building in anger and fury as the dam finally breaks and gushes forth, Threatening to shatter the gate and doors to splinters and twisted metal. A long ago promised gift to be rewarded, For all the things endured, Things that could be considered so cruel, The storm picks up in force until it's akin to that of a hurricane, As if brought forth by the warrior's grief and pain finally being released, For the first and only time. These things ringing out despite the storms roaring wind, Gathering force, Perhaps in affirmation of the warrior's words. After a pause the gate begins to lift, It's metal screeching, The doors groaning as they begin to swing outward, and the battered soldier is bathed in light, Taking the weight from the warrior's shoulders, As the threshold is finally crossed.
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41
To be a woman Is to be property To act ladylike Is to mold into the stereotype To speak up is unheard of Just go crawl behind the white man you see in front of you A glimpse Of steel is all you see before The warmth of blood drains every part Every being you thought to be strong Now gone Pick up the pieces Bandage that wound We have a war One that was fought before Blood on the knife Stained the suit of the man walking to the congress chair He holds it up with a smile And the other men in the house follow As they add it to the closet of achievements We are strong We are not blind to perspective We see in color Stitch up the knife wound Targeted at the abdomen Property does not fight back A piece of land does not speak words The cornfields do not unite To be a woman Is to have a voice One loud enough to be heard over laws That prohibit natural human rights Our bodies are not to be tagged by the market vendor down the street Politicians now playing a game of operation in their makeshift white coats Forgetting all that we have achieved Women's bodies are now more dangerous Than a gun on school property To have a body Is to have a choice To be a woman Is to bring justice and unity to all
0
Jun 1, 2020
Jun 1, 2020 at 12:25 PM UTC
For Old Times Sake
Challenges and competition notified. Every step codified. Tears and sweat pacified. Achievements and advancement glorified. Regression and depression terrified. Muscles and struggle verified. Foes and conspirators mortified. Plans of progress and purpose sanctified. Grace and the Goodness of God testified. Sweet pleasures of life. Trials, Torment and Torture. Eulogies and Elegies of visible characters. Promising and decisive. No conflicts, No dilemma.
0
Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 1:48 AM UTC
HARD WORK
You don't limit your life to social media. In reality, social media limits you to your life. A selfie with this and a selfie with that. Your life is race for comments and likes. Instead of having a personality worth praising You are now judged based on your social media profiles. Status update: I wish I could visit Paris some day. In Paris you're like, "Where can I get signals for wifi?" Your achievements are unlocking new levels of Candy Crush Is that the legacy you'll leave behind? As if all these achievements will benefit you   to unlock the doors of heaven when you'll die. Your 940 friends won't be able to help you by sending a booster or an extra life. Relationship Status: Happily married. Happy and married until the moment you both go offline. You buy everything from behind the screen Error 404: Cannot buy love and time. It's a complicated maze that you won't accept Even when they themselves call it a website. You don't limit your life to social media. In reality, social media limits you to your life.
0
Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 2:46 PM UTC
A generation who sees but is blind
My Court is a battle As a Queen, I will endure so my kingdom thrives Standing in gardens My treasure trove of colours that never fails me Flowers bow gently The winds make the tall trees sing Rivers flow calmly Scents drift in the light I hear its sweet melody As I stand with pride A Queen now enters The daughter of Spring and Deer The tender Queen Fawn Who smiles so sweetly Fragrant, soft-spoken and kind With deer by her side Another Queen comes The angel with a kind heat The gentle Queen Sue Who has healed her wounds, broken her chrysalis And spreads her warm light Another Queen comes Wise and soon to be married Joyful Queen Donna Who goes with the flow A talented haikuist with a flower crown Another Queen comes She who is always giving The giving Queen Kim Whose crown's a halo And her words, so spiritual fragrant and calming Another Queen comes Who has birds singing so sweet The sweet Queen Robin Who is a true joy Whose words are just like music A kindred spirit And now a King comes Who is very much like me The great King Omni Who is an artist Who is both seen and unseen Very much like me Another King comes Ever so mischieveous The playful King Paul Such a playful tease He who makes me smile and laugh And looks out for me Another King comes His heart is strong and tender The wise King Edmund Who writes for himself Speaks so well of others and how vital love is To these Kings and Queens Thank you for your melodies You are golden souls For now I do see The true power of my quill My ink is gold too I write out my life My pain, my fears and my loves And my achievements I must stay above I will walk with my head up and ignore the bad People will hate me But I will thicken my skin to be a true queen I will empower And give you all your respects and never denounce I am a true Queen With a Court that is growing steadily but strong The reign of Queen Lyn Who is sensitive and shy It has just begun
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Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 3:21 PM UTC
The Queen's Court
My Court is a battle As a Queen, I will endure so my kingdom thrives Standing in gardens My treasure trove of colours that never fails me Flowers bow gently The winds make the tall trees sing Rivers flow calmly Scents drift in the light I hear its sweet melody As I stand with pride A Queen now enters The daughter of Spring and Deer The tender Queen Fawn Who smiles so sweetly Fragrant, soft-spoken and kind With deer by her side Another Queen comes The angel with a kind heat The gentle Queen Sue Who has healed her wounds, broken her chrysalis And spreads her warm light Another Queen comes Wise and soon to be married Joyful Queen Donna Who goes with the flow A talented haikuist with a flower crown Another Queen comes She who is always giving The giving Queen Kim Whose crown's a halo And her words, so spiritual fragrant and calming Another Queen comes Who has birds singing so sweet The sweet Queen Robin Who is a true joy Whose words are just like music A kindred spirit And now a King comes Who is very much like me The great King Omni Who is an artist Who is both seen and unseen Very much like me Another King comes Ever so mischieveous The playful King Paul Such a playful tease He who makes me smile and laugh And looks out for me Another King comes His heart is strong and tender The wise King Edmund Who writes for himself Speaks so well of others and how vital love is To these Kings and Queens Thank you for your melodies You are golden souls For now I do see The true power of my quill My ink is gold too I write out my life My pain, my fears and my loves And my achievements I must stay above I will walk with my head up and ignore the bad People will hate me But I will thicken my skin to be a true queen I will empower And give you all your respects and never denounce I am a true Queen With a Court that is growing steadily but strong The reign of Queen Lyn Who is sensitive and shy It has just begun
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84
His pride doesn't lie in how many women he's lured, Its in his great achievements, Faith is his armor, And hardwork his hope, Persistent,determined... Because he knows people look up to him, His wisdom is pure and fearless, His intellect;its something to envy. He tries to be at his best at all times,not that he's perfect,no But because he's chosen the path of integrity and has standards to live by, Good morals and principles are his rules.
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May 16, 2016
May 16, 2016 at 3:49 AM UTC
Man of integrity
This distance between you and me, Feels like it's half a world and it just might be. Wherever you are, or ever might go Know that I'm still waiting for you. Waiting to hold your hand in mine, Embrace your sweet skin in my arms. I wait for the day. Beyond the frosted glass there you are, Touch you I could not, If I called you couldn't hear. With no visible way of interaction, Hope is lost for an ever after, And my heart overweight. I wait for the day. Keep looking forward to the day we meet For the light in our eyes shall brighten the sky again, Move on forward and destiny might plan the day When both our paths entwine and merge Oh glorious day that day will be. Forever and ever after might be written on my sheet. I'll definitely wait for that day. I'll patiently wait for that day When we can indulge in our time, Go through life together like a game By earning achievements and ranks. Grow old together and gross our kin With the passion and love we share. Oh how I keep waiting for the day. When I see you out in the distance Dashing as anyone could be Not long now until we meet And say hello and I'd love to spend my time with you, Laugh and cuddle together under the mellow moon, Watch the meteor shower and end the night with a kiss. I've been waiting for the day. Lights go out and the day turns into night. A hint of light coming from a corner The curtains open and unveil I'm all alone in the moonlit night, Thinking about the days I lie waiting for you.
0
Nov 10, 2012
Nov 10, 2012 at 7:00 PM UTC
Waiting
GENERATION EQUALITY It is equality when you work with her. It is equality when she leads the team. It is equality to see her, think her and call her the boss. It is equality when she promotes her accomplishments. It is equality to pay her the same as him for the same job. It is for sure equality when you give her credit for that brilliant idea. It is totally equality to admit she is more competent so she gets the job. It is equality when she has an opinion and is confident to make it known. It is equality when deciding for herself is norm. It is equality when bias and stereotypes no longer define her. It is equality when her achievements are no longer firsts. It is equality when she is well represented in critical areas of concern. It is definitely equality to treat her with respect and dignity. It is absolutely equality to fight alongside her for peace and justice. It is real equality to be her allie, support her future openly. It is surely equality for her to reclaim and take up spaces. Not just a woman, not just a girl, not just because she is your mother or wife, Not just as your sister or your aunty, not just because she is your daughter, But as the very evident, clear as day Human that she is in this generation and Generations more to come. An integral part of a collective whole, we all need to better uphold. Each one responsible, Each one acting consciously, Each one shaping up, A generation for equality. Belema .S. Ekine belemascribbles
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Mar 8, 2020
Mar 8, 2020 at 5:41 PM UTC
GENERATION FOR EQUALITY
Radness The Philosopher’s Stone is not just a spiritual metaphor but an actual substance that can transmute lead or mercury into gold. The Stone is a product of Alchemy. Unlike chemistry, which only deals with physical matter and energy, Alchemy makes use of etheric and astral energies to reconfigure matter at the quantum level. Alchemy is to chemistry what a cube is to the square; it is a superset of chemistry and is capable of so much more. How Etheric Energy Overrides Physical Laws Alchemical achievements require successfully gathering, concentrating, and multiplying etheric energy. When this energy reaches a critical threshold, it overpowers the normal laws of physics and allows seemingly miraculous processes to take place. I believe it does this by biasing probability. By amplifying the probability of minor quantum effects, which are normally limited to the subatomic scale, they manifest on the larger atomic scale. In this way, one element spontaneously transforms into another. The world around us is made of subatomic particles that regularly undergo unpredictable jumps, teleportation, bilocation, superposition, and other strange quantum behaviors. Why don’t everyday solid objects do likewise? Because the random quantum jittering of their subatomic particles collectively average out to zero. Think of a large crowd of people; seen from the air, the crowd as a whole is stationary, even though individuals within the crowd move in seemingly random directions. It’s because their movements are random and uncoordinated that they average to zero net movement on the whole. The world we see around us is merely a crowd of subatomic particles whose individual quantum jumps aren’t apparent because they average to collective stillness. Physical laws that govern our everyday world, known as the deterministic laws of classical physics, are merely the laws of the crowd. These laws are what’s left of quantum physics after the unpredictability is removed through statistical averaging. They are not absolute laws; they are just the most probable manner in which matter and energy behave. Physical laws can be bent. While the probability is incredibly low that enough coordination and coherence develops among the quantum jitters to manifest on a collective scale, that is exactly what etheric energy does. It alters probability and thereby skews the laws of thermodynamics, gravity, electromagnetism, and chemistry. Alchemy does not violate the laws of physics, nor does it always follow them, rather it bends them as needed. It operates upon the quantum foundation from which these laws arise in the first place, via etheric energy affecting the probability of quantum events.
0
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 8:59 PM UTC
Alchemy
Radness The Philosopher’s Stone is not just a spiritual metaphor but an actual substance that can transmute lead or mercury into gold. The Stone is a product of Alchemy. Unlike chemistry, which only deals with physical matter and energy, Alchemy makes use of etheric and astral energies to reconfigure matter at the quantum level. Alchemy is to chemistry what a cube is to the square; it is a superset of chemistry and is capable of so much more. How Etheric Energy Overrides Physical Laws Alchemical achievements require successfully gathering, concentrating, and multiplying etheric energy. When this energy reaches a critical threshold, it overpowers the normal laws of physics and allows seemingly miraculous processes to take place. I believe it does this by biasing probability. By amplifying the probability of minor quantum effects, which are normally limited to the subatomic scale, they manifest on the larger atomic scale. In this way, one element spontaneously transforms into another. The world around us is made of subatomic particles that regularly undergo unpredictable jumps, teleportation, bilocation, superposition, and other strange quantum behaviors. Why don’t everyday solid objects do likewise? Because the random quantum jittering of their subatomic particles collectively average out to zero. Think of a large crowd of people; seen from the air, the crowd as a whole is stationary, even though individuals within the crowd move in seemingly random directions. It’s because their movements are random and uncoordinated that they average to zero net movement on the whole. The world we see around us is merely a crowd of subatomic particles whose individual quantum jumps aren’t apparent because they average to collective stillness. Physical laws that govern our everyday world, known as the deterministic laws of classical physics, are merely the laws of the crowd. These laws are what’s left of quantum physics after the unpredictability is removed through statistical averaging. They are not absolute laws; they are just the most probable manner in which matter and energy behave. Physical laws can be bent. While the probability is incredibly low that enough coordination and coherence develops among the quantum jitters to manifest on a collective scale, that is exactly what etheric energy does. It alters probability and thereby skews the laws of thermodynamics, gravity, electromagnetism, and chemistry. Alchemy does not violate the laws of physics, nor does it always follow them, rather it bends them as needed. It operates upon the quantum foundation from which these laws arise in the first place, via etheric energy affecting the probability of quantum events.
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8
Yank myself out of bed Peel the film of sleep from 'round my head It's 4:00 AM And all the world is dead. It's 4:00 AM and all the world is dead. From the streets every man has fled. But in hours it again shall be Brimming with potential; energy set free. I assemble my appearance. Staring into the mirror, I say to myself: "One last time. "One final tour." The door is open, before it I stand To face morning's faint chill Surrounded by paling blue. There! The first bird's trill. The air is sweet And free of smog. The faintest fog Is draped on the trees. The empty street beckons And freely I obey. I have things I need to do Before the commencement of the day. I pass the playground on the corner, Where I wasted time as a child. Where many a battle was fought And we had adventures in the wild. Past the playground and to my left There is the river bank Where I went fishing with my father And my friends and I made our mothers mad: Where we lit our little fires And we had our first drinks. Where we shared our first joint And came to talk and think. Our school is down the way. We all can safely say It's the place where we first learned Classes and books have less to say than the real world. We became: Artists. Athletes. Academics. Our achievements Are scrawled upon The stone walls That lined that same river. A little further on, And there's the little store Where I kissed my first fleeting love Just outside the door. I keep walking, I keep walking, Until I reach the shore. I put my back against a rock And rest on that sandy floor. The life that I'll soon be leaving Lies behind me asleep While I watch the sun lazily rise Over the mysterious, unexplored deep. I built myself in this town And it built me as well. But I cannot stay much longer: In a few hours I will bid it farewell. Will I ever make it back? Will I ever return To trace the scrawlings by the riverbank With bare fingers full of nostalgia? Nothing at all is sure. Therefore I must take this last chance To make my final tour.
0
May 8, 2015
May 8, 2015 at 8:25 AM UTC
Final Tour
Yank myself out of bed Peel the film of sleep from 'round my head It's 4:00 AM And all the world is dead. It's 4:00 AM and all the world is dead. From the streets every man has fled. But in hours it again shall be Brimming with potential; energy set free. I assemble my appearance. Staring into the mirror, I say to myself: "One last time. "One final tour." The door is open, before it I stand To face morning's faint chill Surrounded by paling blue. There! The first bird's trill. The air is sweet And free of smog. The faintest fog Is draped on the trees. The empty street beckons And freely I obey. I have things I need to do Before the commencement of the day. I pass the playground on the corner, Where I wasted time as a child. Where many a battle was fought And we had adventures in the wild. Past the playground and to my left There is the river bank Where I went fishing with my father And my friends and I made our mothers mad: Where we lit our little fires And we had our first drinks. Where we shared our first joint And came to talk and think. Our school is down the way. We all can safely say It's the place where we first learned Classes and books have less to say than the real world. We became: Artists. Athletes. Academics. Our achievements Are scrawled upon The stone walls That lined that same river. A little further on, And there's the little store Where I kissed my first fleeting love Just outside the door. I keep walking, I keep walking, Until I reach the shore. I put my back against a rock And rest on that sandy floor. The life that I'll soon be leaving Lies behind me asleep While I watch the sun lazily rise Over the mysterious, unexplored deep. I built myself in this town And it built me as well. But I cannot stay much longer: In a few hours I will bid it farewell. Will I ever make it back? Will I ever return To trace the scrawlings by the riverbank With bare fingers full of nostalgia? Nothing at all is sure. Therefore I must take this last chance To make my final tour.
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72
.      I stare down at the plate of toast and beans      wondering why this was never part of my dreams.      Looking for the future with an illusional pretence,      hoping good apples will fall on my side of the fence. And as the fork dances slow around the legumes in spirals, the tedium of a wasting life bears the burden and scars of missed opportunities in paralysis and the colour of once bright lights           glow black, shining a shadow into the void covering the bruises that were once achievements of worth,      now tender patches           of failure. I drop the fork ...      … pushing away the plate and leaving food uneaten,      my desire for its nutrition fought and beaten,      Looking at the apple tree with sombre regret      maybe its fruit will fall and save me yet. And disappointment is worse than anger, it begins with the stench of loss the nasal whiff of what if … And what if the little apple tree drops all its fruit down to me? Would I recognise fortune on my side or fear the illusions and run to hide? © Pagan Paul (17/02/18)
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May 14, 2019
May 14, 2019 at 5:09 PM UTC
Apples
Thousands of us were displaced Started careers late Not lucky enough to have had great jobs So we work hard Put ourselves through night school While taking care of family Finally ... Yes, yeah,  whoopee Did it ! Once again completed school Another certificate added to the growing list of achievements. More bills owed to uncle Sam Going on numerous job interviews No one's responding Instead ... All this knowledge stored in your head Current jobs pays minimum wages Those colleges attended; mounting When you try to get ahead  - They hold on to their employments As if, It's Rocket science Looking for younger, greener admits Once AARP comes a knocking on Your door You know they don't want your Expertise anymore What's one to do Still strong, healthy, seasoned Educated, no strings to boot Hopelessly stuck in a world of "We will call you " So at the tender age of fifty Thoughts of starting your own business floats in your head Right Now, back to school For another certificate A chance to use that knowledge Put bread on the table Feel useful Quality of life renewed. JRap /2016
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Sep 22, 2016
Sep 22, 2016 at 1:46 PM UTC
Mid-age Graduate
Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time. Exercise caution in your business affairs; for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals; and everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself. Especially, do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass. Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be, and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul. With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.
0
May 14, 2017
May 14, 2017 at 8:30 AM UTC
Desiderata
Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time. Exercise caution in your business affairs; for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals; and everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself. Especially, do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass. Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be, and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul. With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.
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46
I got inducted into a PhD program. I am very happy now. Loving my days as they shine, Over the edge I pushed sorrow, Viewing my love grow mature, Enjoying the achievements I am. Putting consciously the efforts, Onto hers and my own life too, Over the hours of togetherness, Jovially invested time & loyalty, Actuating each other to do the best.
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Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 2:56 AM UTC
She's Definitely My Lucky Charm
I find myself tracing my timeline of all my littlest achievements. That is the aftermath of all my failures.
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Sep 26, 2015
Sep 26, 2015 at 8:23 PM UTC
Aftermath
which man has saved us from a dystopian future; where each one of us must decide between good and evil without fear of punishment from the camera lens or laws that have become as onerous upon our lives as a world without any law at all; which man would be genius enough to survive his own evil no matter the height of our intellectual achievements, it is the emotional strain of one life in one world that cannot care no matter how much we pray beyond gravity’s last remaining outposts that lays waste to souls that beg to be equal among beings made in an image that has not been defined but merely assumed when tears are no longer welcome as before and when anger serves the strong well, then will the light know to assume it’s place in the darkness which hides from the absence of the knowing, undefined by Gods or beasts that live in the depths choking on sinks of man’s glorious quest for immortality if one man knows of the legend if not each jot of the law then would the spirit hover above his heart; must he decide between living as a depraved knave or martyred by unrecorded history, unfathomed by meaning or the depths that have no end except his will to suffer for what he once knew to be true?
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Aug 8, 2015
Aug 8, 2015 at 11:58 PM UTC
the book of choice
*When happiness and smiles you have within grasp They’ll charge in with swords of pain and sadness Raise your shield with a tighter clasp Be strong, be strong against your demons! As achievements and great success chimes They’ll attempt to feed it with arrogance and pride Keep watch and be aware at all times Be strong, be strong against your demons! While innocence and upright honesty comforts They’ll rebel on with lies and sly deceits Restrict them from ever passing forth Be strong, be strong against your demons! Among the midst of compassion and pure love They’ll counter with anger and ugly hatred Fend them off with all the might you have Be strong, be strong against your demons! They will be close your whole life They will force themselves in Do not let them win Be strong, be strong against your demons!*
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Jun 5, 2015
Jun 5, 2015 at 7:45 PM UTC
Be Strong Against Your Demons
I visited the wonderland after ages I was welcomed in the same old way. The lavenders performed a splendid show Reminding me of the last May. The mansion was as we left it, holding all the memories we made. Your clothes were laying on the floor near bed. I still remember how I allowed you to invade. The family photo was hanging in the gallery showing off one of my greatest achievements. Those trips to London, Paris and New York, a new adventure on every weekend. The empty rooms haunt me now but I am holding it all with a thin strand. (*If you ever want to return, darling, Just come back to our Wonderland.*)
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Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 2:57 PM UTC
Our Wonderland.
I am a walking contradiction. I am six feet, five inches tall But I feel microscopic. I am a proud Englishman, Disgusted by his history and absent Of allegiances to any land, any country. I am a nomad, but there is so much I haven't seen. I am filled with wanderlust, But also crave routine, and hate change. I am a passionate writer, But it pains me to write. I am so very concerned by the world, Its people and emotions, Yet I distance myself, want no part in it, Thrive off any psychopathic habits I develop - I enjoy the disdain I have for most people. I am well-educated, above-average intelligence, But I know nothing... and always will. I am surrounded by people that I love and care about, But I feel so often, so desperately alone. I crave my own space, my solitude, The freedom of my own head and my mind's Undivided attention, but it haunts me, And I miss the feeling of warmth beside me in my bed. It taunts me. It makes me want to die. I am a walking contradiction because I desperately Want to live, if only to achieve something worth Being remembered for, worth dying for. There's no poetic justice, beauty in death of An ordinary man with uninteresting achievements. That is wasted oxygen to me, and wasted talent (if you can even call it that for) I crave success, but fear I am talentless. I am a walking contradiction. Sometimes I think I am delusional, But, then again, I am one of the most logical people I know. I'm boring. But I want to excite, to entertain. I am not funny, but I want to make people laugh. I want to live forever and die tomorrow. I am a walking contradiction. Nobody mourns the poor - of pocket or of soul. I fear that I am both. I fear that I am a walking contradiction. Completely devoid of purpose, of meaning But so hopelessly in love with the beauty of it all.
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Oct 30, 2016
Oct 30, 2016 at 11:15 AM UTC
Walking Contradiction
I am a walking contradiction. I am six feet, five inches tall But I feel microscopic. I am a proud Englishman, Disgusted by his history and absent Of allegiances to any land, any country. I am a nomad, but there is so much I haven't seen. I am filled with wanderlust, But also crave routine, and hate change. I am a passionate writer, But it pains me to write. I am so very concerned by the world, Its people and emotions, Yet I distance myself, want no part in it, Thrive off any psychopathic habits I develop - I enjoy the disdain I have for most people. I am well-educated, above-average intelligence, But I know nothing... and always will. I am surrounded by people that I love and care about, But I feel so often, so desperately alone. I crave my own space, my solitude, The freedom of my own head and my mind's Undivided attention, but it haunts me, And I miss the feeling of warmth beside me in my bed. It taunts me. It makes me want to die. I am a walking contradiction because I desperately Want to live, if only to achieve something worth Being remembered for, worth dying for. There's no poetic justice, beauty in death of An ordinary man with uninteresting achievements. That is wasted oxygen to me, and wasted talent (if you can even call it that for) I crave success, but fear I am talentless. I am a walking contradiction. Sometimes I think I am delusional, But, then again, I am one of the most logical people I know. I'm boring. But I want to excite, to entertain. I am not funny, but I want to make people laugh. I want to live forever and die tomorrow. I am a walking contradiction. Nobody mourns the poor - of pocket or of soul. I fear that I am both. I fear that I am a walking contradiction. Completely devoid of purpose, of meaning But so hopelessly in love with the beauty of it all.
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We give expensive gifts to our children on Birthdays, Achievements, Marriages, Adulthood (21 years), and on and on. Have we ever given them? The Quran-Islam The Bible-Christians The Bhagavad Gita-Hinduism The Tohra-Judaism Guru Granth Sahib-Sikhism Kojik-Shinto, Avesta-Zeroastranism. In today's world of chaos our children need them. If learning is important why not between the pages of the holy books. Let's make our holy books as important as our mobiles.
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Jul 30, 2018
Jul 30, 2018 at 6:47 AM UTC
A Point To Note
Donald Trump's presidency Is one of the greatest achievements in art I have ever experienced And Trump is a true artist He takes words from the page Like corruption, disenfranchisement, xenophobia And brings them to life Highlighting fear and paranoia so clearly Contrasting the blacks and whites Emphasizing anger While reminding us we're mere infants In the digital age And warning us of our seniority And capitalism's We all like to think life has meaning Until we hit an animal with our car Then that's just the way things are And I'm staring at an absurdist painting Of a child driving a car Through a herd of sheep As I watch a heist film Where the robbers turn their guns over To the mentally unstable guy in the group Trump is a national artist Placing riots on the map And drawing infernos on the Internet His art forces an opinion Everybody has something to say about him And it's all true Even the pages he ripped from his own cabinet Tried to villainize him in their script But he was already an anti-hero The humor is that the mud slung onto him Is dirt kicked up from his own tires I guess if you surround yourself with hateful people You're surrounding yourself with people who probably hate you Trump's art is deeply conflicting He reminds me of the people who want me to live in shame Yet he embodies the individuality that separates me from that shame His insecurities remind me of myself High school is the White House in the eyes of a kid And I had secrets I wanted to share But felt I couldn't I learned things That changed my entire perspective And didn't think people would understand Afraid of being assaulted for my indiscretions I hid behind a boisterous personality And a nonchalant attitude Trump's art evokes sympathy and hatred that feels so strong When he holds a mirror defining our worst qualities To a man viscerally opposed to his own reflection The confliction of emotions Is the hallmark of great art We are all artists The lines we write or the strokes we brush Are in our actions And Trump's canvas displays A life filled with accomplishment Inspiring me to live my own life But I still wake up in cold sweats From the American dream That anybody can be president
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Sep 29, 2017
Sep 29, 2017 at 6:39 AM UTC
Conflicting
Donald Trump's presidency Is one of the greatest achievements in art I have ever experienced And Trump is a true artist He takes words from the page Like corruption, disenfranchisement, xenophobia And brings them to life Highlighting fear and paranoia so clearly Contrasting the blacks and whites Emphasizing anger While reminding us we're mere infants In the digital age And warning us of our seniority And capitalism's We all like to think life has meaning Until we hit an animal with our car Then that's just the way things are And I'm staring at an absurdist painting Of a child driving a car Through a herd of sheep As I watch a heist film Where the robbers turn their guns over To the mentally unstable guy in the group Trump is a national artist Placing riots on the map And drawing infernos on the Internet His art forces an opinion Everybody has something to say about him And it's all true Even the pages he ripped from his own cabinet Tried to villainize him in their script But he was already an anti-hero The humor is that the mud slung onto him Is dirt kicked up from his own tires I guess if you surround yourself with hateful people You're surrounding yourself with people who probably hate you Trump's art is deeply conflicting He reminds me of the people who want me to live in shame Yet he embodies the individuality that separates me from that shame His insecurities remind me of myself High school is the White House in the eyes of a kid And I had secrets I wanted to share But felt I couldn't I learned things That changed my entire perspective And didn't think people would understand Afraid of being assaulted for my indiscretions I hid behind a boisterous personality And a nonchalant attitude Trump's art evokes sympathy and hatred that feels so strong When he holds a mirror defining our worst qualities To a man viscerally opposed to his own reflection The confliction of emotions Is the hallmark of great art We are all artists The lines we write or the strokes we brush Are in our actions And Trump's canvas displays A life filled with accomplishment Inspiring me to live my own life But I still wake up in cold sweats From the American dream That anybody can be president
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They say pride comes before a fall Which I do not believe at all, For how would we progress unless We can take pride in our success? 'Tis pride in success I believe That motivates us to achieve. So whether they be big or small Celebrate your achievements all! Take pride in any job well done And apologise to no one!
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Nov 17, 2016
Nov 17, 2016 at 6:42 AM UTC
Pride!
Personal REPOST - Not a poem. ~~~~~~~~~ My guardian Archangel is Ariel known as the Goddess of nature like I am Ariel Archangel heals the planet animals responsible for natural elements Earth, wind, water, and fire. Ariel's role as an archangel relates to inspiration. Aries people treat breaking up like a sport, and they do not want to lose. Aries would rather dump than be dumped, and so if tension has been building, they're likely to be the ones to initiate the split. Since Arians want to move on faster than their exes, they're often the first to rebound, but they're rarely malicious and will self defend as last resort! Aries-born people are favorited for theirfierce and independent approach to life being attracted to their uninhibitedness and a wild personality. Aries-born people are attracted to the quirkiness and weirdness of Aquarians and both get along like a house on fire! Unlike any other zodiac sign, Aries is more hung up on the memories they created with the ex-partners than their exes themselves they avoid competition For Arians, it's not at all about getting back together, but it is all about the nostalgia that ~hits them hard.~ Aries cannot stand people who try to set the tone in their life! Aries hate ~intrusiveness.~ Do not push Aries or give them ultimatums-they alone will decide when to call and see you! Aries are quite confident energetic and a bit of a daredevil it's no surprise that their biggest fear is the fear of going unnoticed or being forgotten. Aries poeople, Arians, want to make a mark on the world, and they like to have many accomplishments achievements under their belt. ~~~~~ When an Aries is hurt, they will let you know with their blunt and impulsive actions. Aries' element is fire making them naturally very passionate, inclined towards exploration, and a little bit scary ~when set off.~ Don't tell an Aries a greater lover roams your head spinning your inner thighs Your Aries will become a puff of smoke and be GONE Aries born women are fire and ice cold and hot symultaneously in your arms If you are ever kissed by an Aries you are truly loved cherished and adored but only if, if, you reciprocate fully ~~~~~~~~~ Defined by: Karijinbba
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Jul 4, 2021
Jul 4, 2021 at 8:02 PM UTC
April Aries Me
Personal REPOST - Not a poem. ~~~~~~~~~ My guardian Archangel is Ariel known as the Goddess of nature like I am Ariel Archangel heals the planet animals responsible for natural elements Earth, wind, water, and fire. Ariel's role as an archangel relates to inspiration. Aries people treat breaking up like a sport, and they do not want to lose. Aries would rather dump than be dumped, and so if tension has been building, they're likely to be the ones to initiate the split. Since Arians want to move on faster than their exes, they're often the first to rebound, but they're rarely malicious and will self defend as last resort! Aries-born people are favorited for theirfierce and independent approach to life being attracted to their uninhibitedness and a wild personality. Aries-born people are attracted to the quirkiness and weirdness of Aquarians and both get along like a house on fire! Unlike any other zodiac sign, Aries is more hung up on the memories they created with the ex-partners than their exes themselves they avoid competition For Arians, it's not at all about getting back together, but it is all about the nostalgia that ~hits them hard.~ Aries cannot stand people who try to set the tone in their life! Aries hate ~intrusiveness.~ Do not push Aries or give them ultimatums-they alone will decide when to call and see you! Aries are quite confident energetic and a bit of a daredevil it's no surprise that their biggest fear is the fear of going unnoticed or being forgotten. Aries poeople, Arians, want to make a mark on the world, and they like to have many accomplishments achievements under their belt. ~~~~~ When an Aries is hurt, they will let you know with their blunt and impulsive actions. Aries' element is fire making them naturally very passionate, inclined towards exploration, and a little bit scary ~when set off.~ Don't tell an Aries a greater lover roams your head spinning your inner thighs Your Aries will become a puff of smoke and be GONE Aries born women are fire and ice cold and hot symultaneously in your arms If you are ever kissed by an Aries you are truly loved cherished and adored but only if, if, you reciprocate fully ~~~~~~~~~ Defined by: Karijinbba
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