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"baggages" poems
Master the art of Flipping your L's (losses) into lessons Because more often than not, They are disguised blessings If they sort of set you back It's for you to bounce back Like a catapult or slingshot (or Big Sean) But never lose sight of your mission The flying beautiful butterfly Once crawled as a caterpillar Think about the trees, They never give up during the wintry days They only shed their leaves (For humans, drop the extra baggages) But trees bounce back during spring Sometimes, you just gotta Take a deep breadth And exhale peace Ensure to keep breathing And you'll sure get back on your feet Calm the nerves, Take a deep sleep But don't sleep in the deep You didn't fail You only found ways that would not work Credit to the man that invented the lightbulb Take the blows but get back up Very soon, the hardwork will pay off Put in more work And relent not Naysayers will always talk Don't be discouraged to put in work Your success will soon prove them wrong There is light at the end of the tunnel As there is light within your spirit Flick it on And you'll be on a winning spree
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Mar 7, 2019
Mar 7, 2019 at 10:49 PM UTC
Bounce back
There shouldn't pass one hour without humour in one's lifetime/ lifespan Some think there is no honour in humour Some in their lives make humour a rumour Some just don't understand the life brought by laughter Humour makes life's baggages lighter Funny that laughter increases one's lifespan Is it perhaps why its called a 'funny-bone' Ain't no happiness when one wears a frown Life's baggages may weigh one down, Let it be a laughing matter With triumph comes true stories of laughter Laughter from humour eliminates worries Humour has started families Humour has built friends Humour has united countries I say there is a lot of honour in humour Hobbies in humour Careers in humour Wisdom in humour
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Jun 20, 2020
Jun 20, 2020 at 4:15 AM UTC
Humour
Come take your mind on down with me . let our bodies be canvases to the tributes of our lives. leave our old stories like tattered and worn baggages by the door. be each others savior for awhile. a old lover's lament. not trying to fill in each other's water color dreams, with lies or half obligated promises. and finally when the late afternoon comes to swallow our worn innocence. close the door. leave unsaid the words that must be said. return us both with some dignity to the outskirts of our lives.
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Mar 26, 2019
Mar 26, 2019 at 12:31 PM UTC
The Hannah poems 26
i was scared to try, scared to fail but if i never strike the iron while it’s hot then I’ll never get my man of steel i was blind to see the colours bleed scared to bare witness to the unraveling but to heal is to release baggages, bandages, bruises of cool tones repair the foundation before building the home aligning with intent, the present a reformed man actively pursuing my desired amend arrows shot from cupid’s hand Adonis’ kiss, Aphrodite commends
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May 31, 2024
May 31, 2024 at 1:21 PM UTC
Man of Steel
I should probably introduce myself My name is Anyone Else It'd be more than obvious to state I'm a mess Even though I do try my best Well, maybe not every time But I toe the line I'm not sure it's the right one Can't know that 'till my times done Attempted some revision to the predestined Tried to storyboard my own end Frankly, I couldn't manage My baggages baggage had to much baggage Overwhelmed seamlessly flipped to defeated A weak will finally and now fully depleted Note beforehand, this is beyond making a statement My name is actually, probably, most likely, irrelevant Knowing me will only be watching me come and go That's best case scenario ©2024
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Mar 10, 2024
Mar 10, 2024 at 5:57 PM UTC
~•§•~ Well Hello There ~•§•~
Say you're on your way. The wait is unbearable. Say you'll cherish me only. Say your heart is unshareble. "Say you'll be mine. Say we'll be fine. Say we'll be together. Selfish of me to ask since I'd be the reason we don't last forever." I hear your voice in songs. A voice that's never blessed my ears. I feel your hugs, mild hugs I've dreamed about throughout my coldest years. Where are you? Please Send the location. ****** the keys to my heart, free my soul & and rescue me from this emotionless probation. Have you been hurt like me? Is it weird The most beautiful things on you are your scars? Could I grasp you admittedly close to my being as we lay on our band-aids & gaze up at stars? In Dreams you're all I see. Fantasies of a we. Prematurely feeling something that has to be. I've paid the price for happiness, I've handled the heaviest of baggages & I wait patiently for the day God ships & delivers you to me.
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Aug 8, 2015
Aug 8, 2015 at 10:25 PM UTC
You're out there
To newer hearts, With newer beats. To newer love, We'll always keep. To newer thoughts, Through newer souls. This newness drives, Our kindled bones. To newer friends, And newer mights. To newer goals, We set alight. This newer dream, With newer promises. This new year comes, Without any baggages. A new year,brings new dawns. This new year, Is to do it all.
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Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 4:36 PM UTC
Untitled
I think my life is in season. As spring blooms beautifully, it gives an accurate definition of new beginnings. But along with it, there were a lot of baggages that I needed to let go. I find myself losing a lot of relationships. It breaks my heart how it drastically changed. I made a lot of beautiful memories with them. Those memories were comparable to cherry blossoms. It was so bright and full of energy. But just like spring, it has to end. Because life must keep on going. Some people aren’t meant to stay. I stopped trying not because I didn’t care. Instead, I’ve learned how to accept things. I still do love them. I love hard. But I believe that I can still love them from a far. I can’t wait for another chapter of my life. Opportunities are always welcome. As well as meeting new people. And just like spring, it is a beginning of growth.
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May 28, 2021
May 28, 2021 at 8:19 PM UTC
And just like spring,
In my years of practice, I have known how to deal with losing How to cope with the pain, the hurt, and all the baggages It usually takes me 7 bottles of beers, a shot of tequila, and a drunk call every night for 3 months I have known how to deal with the questions, asked to me everyday by every person who has come to know my story I have mastered how it is to struggle with the memories the pictures, clothes on the closet, writings on my walls the letters, the texts messages, the whispers behind my ear I have known how to deal with people leaving I am not the person everyone remembers first when they say forever I am not the person anyone remembers I am always the person they try to forget scrub away from their skin, the poison in their blood stream I have come in peace with the art of leaving You came and all that crashed, all down the drain All my preparations for the storm, gone You came and all my heart could do was try not to explode every time I steal glances your way I tried not to take our conversations as something you looked forward to everyday I tried to stay away but my soul gets tired of pulling away It knows what it wants, and you know I won't give up without a fight I know you're not going to stay but **** it My ******* soul recognizes yours It has gone all out to make you see how much they know each other Why do you have to set camp here, where it's a mess and nothing is good enough for your hands, your fingers, your touch Why did you let me in, where all I could do is stay in awe of how enough I am for your late night random phone calls Why do you have to tell me you have feelings for me but let me stay in places where no one recognizes me - your heart still silently wishes it wasn't me your soul still searching, something that does not resemble me I have always told you to never settle But now I am telling you I am willing to be the purple bruise, the reckless bump on the wrong side of the table the turn that leads to places only we know of the stubborn decision over bottles of beer, breaths of poison the speed dial # 2, the drunk dial, the **** dial, as long as you call me the bad poetry, the rhymes that do not add up to a beautiful piece the last drop of ink on your teal pen the favorite shirt but is too short, too used to still use the photo, kept in the dustiest part of your closet the secret, the well-thought off outsider the painting you never get the time to finish the almost I have always been the person who leaves I'm going to stay
0
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 6:31 AM UTC
XXXVII
In my years of practice, I have known how to deal with losing How to cope with the pain, the hurt, and all the baggages It usually takes me 7 bottles of beers, a shot of tequila, and a drunk call every night for 3 months I have known how to deal with the questions, asked to me everyday by every person who has come to know my story I have mastered how it is to struggle with the memories the pictures, clothes on the closet, writings on my walls the letters, the texts messages, the whispers behind my ear I have known how to deal with people leaving I am not the person everyone remembers first when they say forever I am not the person anyone remembers I am always the person they try to forget scrub away from their skin, the poison in their blood stream I have come in peace with the art of leaving You came and all that crashed, all down the drain All my preparations for the storm, gone You came and all my heart could do was try not to explode every time I steal glances your way I tried not to take our conversations as something you looked forward to everyday I tried to stay away but my soul gets tired of pulling away It knows what it wants, and you know I won't give up without a fight I know you're not going to stay but **** it My ******* soul recognizes yours It has gone all out to make you see how much they know each other Why do you have to set camp here, where it's a mess and nothing is good enough for your hands, your fingers, your touch Why did you let me in, where all I could do is stay in awe of how enough I am for your late night random phone calls Why do you have to tell me you have feelings for me but let me stay in places where no one recognizes me - your heart still silently wishes it wasn't me your soul still searching, something that does not resemble me I have always told you to never settle But now I am telling you I am willing to be the purple bruise, the reckless bump on the wrong side of the table the turn that leads to places only we know of the stubborn decision over bottles of beer, breaths of poison the speed dial # 2, the drunk dial, the **** dial, as long as you call me the bad poetry, the rhymes that do not add up to a beautiful piece the last drop of ink on your teal pen the favorite shirt but is too short, too used to still use the photo, kept in the dustiest part of your closet the secret, the well-thought off outsider the painting you never get the time to finish the almost I have always been the person who leaves I'm going to stay
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I'm trying hard not to slip, But you should know you're the one I miss. We don't even talk anymore, Like we never happen at all. You left a hole in my heart, Yet you still hold a part. Leaving me with some baggages that I can't unpack, Making me look for another that can bring me back. Got me feeling like I'm stuck in yesterday, The days go by but tomorrow haven't came. You should know that your company is something I can't resist, Because I'm still longing for you because you still exist. I guess my castle walls are paper-thin.....
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Jul 9, 2013
Jul 9, 2013 at 11:13 PM UTC
Paper-thin Castle
We can travel far away in our own world leave all the baggages away just you and me Leave the past behind we'll move forward nothing to look behind you'll be the only shining From the heights and down through the dusk and dawn while we'll be laying down we'll feel right at home Feel the delight, the heart all that to divide mending the broken heart without the missing parts Those memories with them the beautifully ugly ones time will forget them but heart remains adamant Despite me and you knew but we'll pretend all the same old and new celebrate our solitude together.
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Feb 28, 2018
Feb 28, 2018 at 1:34 PM UTC
Celebrate it together
THE BOY IN THE TOILET HOLDS A BLADE TO HIS WRIST. YOU AREN’T IN LOVE WITH HIM. AT LEAST, NOT YET. NOW, HE DOESN’T KNOW HOW TO HOLD YOU WHEN YOU BREAK APART OF WHEN YOU FALL ASLEEP RIGHT NOW, ALL HIS HANDS KNOW ARE THE WAYS TO MAKE SELF DESTRUCTION FEEL A LOT LIKE SELF INDULGENCE. HE LOOKS AT THE MIRROR AND INSIDE HIS EYES YOU CAN SEE THE WAY HIS UNDECIDED WHITES MIX WITH HIS BLUES PREPARING FOR A WAR IN HIS MIND TO GIVE UP ON ALL THAT LIFE HAS TO OFFER. HE DOESN’T SEE THE WAY HIS BLUE-GREEN ORBS SWIRL, LIKE THE WAVES OF THE PACIFIC OCEAN CRASHING ONTO THE SHORE. HE DOESN’T UNDERSTAND THAT BLUE IS NOT ONLY THE COLOUR OF THE SUIT HIS FATHER WORE IN HIS COFFIN BECAUSE THE SHADE ONLY SEEMS TO REMIND HIM OF THE WAY HIS FATHER USE TO TELL HIM THAT HE WAS DISAPPOINTED. HE DOESN’T UNDERSTAND THAT BLUE IS ALSO THE COLOUR OF FREEDOM AND IF HE WENT OUT OF THE HOUSE ENOUGH HE WOULD HAVE SEEN IT IN THE CLOUDS AND THE BIRDS BUT NOW ALL HE CAN DO IS STARE AT HIS REFLECTION IN THE TOILET OF THE FLESH AND BONES THAT CARVE HIS DEMEANOUR AND SOMEONE NEEDS TO TELL HIM THAT HIS EYES REPRESENT THE OCEAN AND THE WAY IT IS RELUCTANT TO GIVE UP KISSING THE SHORE NO MATTER HOW MANY TIMES IT HAS BEEN SENT BACK. DO NOT GIVE UP. SOMEONE NEEDS TO TELL HIM THAT HIS EYES ARE MORE THAN JUST BLUE AND HIS SKIN IS MORE THAN JUST SCARS BECAUSE IF WHAT HE WANTS TO CARVE OFF IS NOT JUST SKIN AND BLOOD BUT THE PAIN FROM THE BEATING PULSE BENEATH IT TELL HIM TO MOVE ON FROM HIS FATHER’S DEATH BECAUSE THAT WOULD HURT A LOT MORE THAN JUST STOPPING THE PULSE. DO NOT GIVE UP. SOMEONE NEEDS TO TEACH HIM THAT THE BLADE IS NOT THE ANSWERS OF ALL HIS PROBLEMS BECAUSE EVEN IF SCARS HEAL, LIFE MAY NOT BE ABLE TO FORGIVE YOU FOR THE TIME YOU SPENT MOURNING IN GUILT. DO NOT GIVE UP. THE BOY IN THE TOILET HOLDS A BLADE TO HIS WRIST. YOU ARE IN LOVE WITH HIM. AT LEAST, YOU THINK YOU DO BUT YOU STILL CAN’T QUITE UNDERSTAND WHY THE DEMONS CHOOSE HIM AND WHY HE REFUSES TO LET GO BUT TONIGHT HE PUTS DOWN THE BLADE AND THE BLAME BECAUSE HE HAS YOU. YOUR TOUCH BURNS HIM MORE THAN THE BLADES EVER HAVE AND HE THINKS THAT THE SCARS ARE HEALING BUT HE DOESN’T UNDERSTAND THAT PEOPLE LEAVE SCARS TOO SO HE HOLDS YOU AT NIGHT AS YOU WHISPER EMPTY PROMISES IN HIS EAR. DO NOT GIVE UP. HE LISTENS AS YOU TELL HIM THAT HIS EYES REMIND YOU OF THE GALAXIES AND EVERY TIME THAT YOU ARE WITH HIM YOU CAN FEEL THE STARS BURNING IN YOUR STOMACH. DO NOT GIVE UP. YOU TEACH HIM THAT GRIEF HAS TO BE LET FREE AND YOU WATCH AS HE TURNS INTO SOMEONE YOU NO LONGER RECOGNISE, HAPPIER, LIGHTER, SO FULL OF LIFE. DO NOT GIVE UP. THE BLADES ARE NO LONGER IN THE CABINET UNDER THE SINK BUT AT THE DRUGSTORE IN PERFECT LITTLE PACKAGES WAITING TO BE BOUGHT. HE DID NOT GIVE UP. THE BOY IN THE TOILET HOLDS A BLADE TO HIS WRIST. YOU ARE NOT IN LOVE WITH HIM. AT LEAST, YOU WERE ONCE. HIS EYES SLOWLY GATHER MORE BAGGAGES AND HE DOESN’T EVEN RECOGNISE HIMSELF WHEN HE LOOKS AT THE MIRROR BECAUSE ALL THAT STARES BACK IS AN EMPTY SHELL. HE FINALLY UNDERSTANDS WHAT YOU MEANT WHEN YOU TOLD HIM THAT PEOPLE COULD LEAVE SCARS TOO BECAUSE THERE IS ONE, KNUCKLE DEEP, IN THE MIDDLE OF HIS HEART AND HE URGES HIS EYES TO START THE ENDLESS WAR BUT INSTEAD HE STARTS TO SEE THE GALAXIES AND THE STARS IN HIS EYES THAT YOU FELL IN LOVE WITH SO TONIGHT HE PUTS DOWN THE BLADE. HE STARTS TO UNDERSTAND THAT EVEN THOUGH OTHER PEOPLE CAN SHOW HIM THE LIGHT IN THE DARKNESS, IT ONLY DEPENDS ON HIM TO PICK UP THE BROKEN PIECES.
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Feb 25, 2016
Feb 25, 2016 at 5:35 AM UTC
THE BOY AND THE BLADE
THE BOY IN THE TOILET HOLDS A BLADE TO HIS WRIST. YOU AREN’T IN LOVE WITH HIM. AT LEAST, NOT YET. NOW, HE DOESN’T KNOW HOW TO HOLD YOU WHEN YOU BREAK APART OF WHEN YOU FALL ASLEEP RIGHT NOW, ALL HIS HANDS KNOW ARE THE WAYS TO MAKE SELF DESTRUCTION FEEL A LOT LIKE SELF INDULGENCE. HE LOOKS AT THE MIRROR AND INSIDE HIS EYES YOU CAN SEE THE WAY HIS UNDECIDED WHITES MIX WITH HIS BLUES PREPARING FOR A WAR IN HIS MIND TO GIVE UP ON ALL THAT LIFE HAS TO OFFER. HE DOESN’T SEE THE WAY HIS BLUE-GREEN ORBS SWIRL, LIKE THE WAVES OF THE PACIFIC OCEAN CRASHING ONTO THE SHORE. HE DOESN’T UNDERSTAND THAT BLUE IS NOT ONLY THE COLOUR OF THE SUIT HIS FATHER WORE IN HIS COFFIN BECAUSE THE SHADE ONLY SEEMS TO REMIND HIM OF THE WAY HIS FATHER USE TO TELL HIM THAT HE WAS DISAPPOINTED. HE DOESN’T UNDERSTAND THAT BLUE IS ALSO THE COLOUR OF FREEDOM AND IF HE WENT OUT OF THE HOUSE ENOUGH HE WOULD HAVE SEEN IT IN THE CLOUDS AND THE BIRDS BUT NOW ALL HE CAN DO IS STARE AT HIS REFLECTION IN THE TOILET OF THE FLESH AND BONES THAT CARVE HIS DEMEANOUR AND SOMEONE NEEDS TO TELL HIM THAT HIS EYES REPRESENT THE OCEAN AND THE WAY IT IS RELUCTANT TO GIVE UP KISSING THE SHORE NO MATTER HOW MANY TIMES IT HAS BEEN SENT BACK. DO NOT GIVE UP. SOMEONE NEEDS TO TELL HIM THAT HIS EYES ARE MORE THAN JUST BLUE AND HIS SKIN IS MORE THAN JUST SCARS BECAUSE IF WHAT HE WANTS TO CARVE OFF IS NOT JUST SKIN AND BLOOD BUT THE PAIN FROM THE BEATING PULSE BENEATH IT TELL HIM TO MOVE ON FROM HIS FATHER’S DEATH BECAUSE THAT WOULD HURT A LOT MORE THAN JUST STOPPING THE PULSE. DO NOT GIVE UP. SOMEONE NEEDS TO TEACH HIM THAT THE BLADE IS NOT THE ANSWERS OF ALL HIS PROBLEMS BECAUSE EVEN IF SCARS HEAL, LIFE MAY NOT BE ABLE TO FORGIVE YOU FOR THE TIME YOU SPENT MOURNING IN GUILT. DO NOT GIVE UP. THE BOY IN THE TOILET HOLDS A BLADE TO HIS WRIST. YOU ARE IN LOVE WITH HIM. AT LEAST, YOU THINK YOU DO BUT YOU STILL CAN’T QUITE UNDERSTAND WHY THE DEMONS CHOOSE HIM AND WHY HE REFUSES TO LET GO BUT TONIGHT HE PUTS DOWN THE BLADE AND THE BLAME BECAUSE HE HAS YOU. YOUR TOUCH BURNS HIM MORE THAN THE BLADES EVER HAVE AND HE THINKS THAT THE SCARS ARE HEALING BUT HE DOESN’T UNDERSTAND THAT PEOPLE LEAVE SCARS TOO SO HE HOLDS YOU AT NIGHT AS YOU WHISPER EMPTY PROMISES IN HIS EAR. DO NOT GIVE UP. HE LISTENS AS YOU TELL HIM THAT HIS EYES REMIND YOU OF THE GALAXIES AND EVERY TIME THAT YOU ARE WITH HIM YOU CAN FEEL THE STARS BURNING IN YOUR STOMACH. DO NOT GIVE UP. YOU TEACH HIM THAT GRIEF HAS TO BE LET FREE AND YOU WATCH AS HE TURNS INTO SOMEONE YOU NO LONGER RECOGNISE, HAPPIER, LIGHTER, SO FULL OF LIFE. DO NOT GIVE UP. THE BLADES ARE NO LONGER IN THE CABINET UNDER THE SINK BUT AT THE DRUGSTORE IN PERFECT LITTLE PACKAGES WAITING TO BE BOUGHT. HE DID NOT GIVE UP. THE BOY IN THE TOILET HOLDS A BLADE TO HIS WRIST. YOU ARE NOT IN LOVE WITH HIM. AT LEAST, YOU WERE ONCE. HIS EYES SLOWLY GATHER MORE BAGGAGES AND HE DOESN’T EVEN RECOGNISE HIMSELF WHEN HE LOOKS AT THE MIRROR BECAUSE ALL THAT STARES BACK IS AN EMPTY SHELL. HE FINALLY UNDERSTANDS WHAT YOU MEANT WHEN YOU TOLD HIM THAT PEOPLE COULD LEAVE SCARS TOO BECAUSE THERE IS ONE, KNUCKLE DEEP, IN THE MIDDLE OF HIS HEART AND HE URGES HIS EYES TO START THE ENDLESS WAR BUT INSTEAD HE STARTS TO SEE THE GALAXIES AND THE STARS IN HIS EYES THAT YOU FELL IN LOVE WITH SO TONIGHT HE PUTS DOWN THE BLADE. HE STARTS TO UNDERSTAND THAT EVEN THOUGH OTHER PEOPLE CAN SHOW HIM THE LIGHT IN THE DARKNESS, IT ONLY DEPENDS ON HIM TO PICK UP THE BROKEN PIECES.
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* **∆ The thoughts, forming a train travel down the memory lane the mind, being the engine the heart, fuelling it in tandem ^ crosses many stoppages carrying the baggages one full of hopelessness other full of haplessness one full of helplessness and one carrying restlessness ^ the train keep revisiting the places unloading the contents from it's coaches the train is quite slow at times stalls and refuses to go ^ the heart stays longer mind tries to move further many trips the train makes daily the baggage being dropped consciously ^ the bogies are lightened the mind is quitenened the train is shortened the world is brightened ^ the train, still makes trips those places, it revisits but quickly it comes back to the track ^ with an attitude of gratitude the train goes on and i move on....** *
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Dec 18, 2019
Dec 18, 2019 at 10:48 PM UTC
The train
I closed my eyes, Searched my mind’s deepest corners, Probing my fondest memories, For that moment in time. What have I missed? Where did I go wrong? Is someone else keeping you warm at night? Or is my absence just so unbearable, That you just decided to let go of it all together. Whatever it is I bring, It became so heavy, That the arms that slowly pushed me up from the dead, Got crushed under the weight of my dreams. I can spend all day just thinking of everything, But none of it will ever bring you back, So maybe it’s time to give my eyes some rest, The suitcases under them carry all my baggages. So maybe it’s time to just, Breathe out, And let it go. Bella, Ciao.
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Jul 18, 2019
Jul 18, 2019 at 12:05 AM UTC
Bella Ciao
I carry baggages of what I used to be of what I was born and reborn with From melancholic dreams, I'm a castaway I sailed through the storms of memories but oceans of bitterness chased and chained me I am framed in steel, caged in bars guarded by haunting ghosts of the past I can no longer see what the future holds I can no longer hear cries from my souls Someone must've dragged them back to abyss
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Oct 25, 2021
Oct 25, 2021 at 3:46 AM UTC
Untitled
We got soul We got life        O (@)      (@)   ! !        ! ! ($)        ($) But We run for money ($$) Couple of papers With some denominations Ruling us We are having no time To know about sufferings Of others 24 hours a day Still no time To have something For us Running for the money M for money Rich becoming Richer Poor becoming poorer But who will take those Papers at the end We come like a ray And leave like a ray No baggages are allowed You have to take your Final flight No medicine No food
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Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 11:06 PM UTC
626. Life without money
Outstretch the air— Carved by colours Sprinkle the wide— Singing Vikings! Cargo Ships,— Route Inclining! The ignited Flags of Statutes, Hailing and burying,— Bonkers in buckets; Hoops and loops,— with Claps of Needles— To strike the Base— To No Vent Whilst the other Mesh— huddle its tent. What brings the Majors to this Event?— ‘Tis the dignified— that lined Straight Heads Appointed the triggers— with earnest tests “All of thee must mark thy honor— Shield each and other’s posts,— And smash the Alien’s Bowl!” The oath—which we left— the Dolphins behind The Tails that rekindle— lullabies from baggages; Tailors saluting the servants' urges, That caused the immunity to separate. Incoming visitors— Driving the lenses to enlarge— With Crossed Arms,— Convey the welcome— of Slashed orders Recipes to pull— the Colon’s Stools;— Both to be ambitious As Tenures of Patron’s Troops. A leg for a leg!— A tank for a tank! Let me sniff the organs in thy chambers— To perform the drills— of thy cranes, And later,— block thy Meteorites,— For our Projectiles to flee! Show the Main Lands— Thy Powers! The faith of Hawk Chess— Whence the heroes— throw their protests Disseating Kings and Queens— That envied the Scores of Ages,— And snapped the systems,— Celebrating the Disorders of Victories Whether mine or thine— We cut the strings Whence the Prerogatives— Laugh at the Quakes..
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May 29, 2020
May 29, 2020 at 3:51 AM UTC
"Country— Quakes"
i say let's put the baggages down and i did only to pick it up again because i care too much for you who care too less i say let's not care anymore and i did only to hurt myself yet again because i think too much of you who think of me too less i say let's not talk anymore and I'll be fine but i don't because i love too much for you who love too less
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Sep 10, 2018
Sep 10, 2018 at 12:30 PM UTC
You
Magic light Starry night The constellations tonight Are shining so very bright Blurry eyes The more i age.. ..i don't seem to get no wise Love never met me..i mostly got despise Broken dreams Fearful shrieks and screams That's what my life has been Happy and fulfilling days..very rarely have i seen I live in a land which is steeped in traditions And more often than not those traditions seem to suffer from contradictions I'm usually referred to as obese Oh please! Yeah i love chocolates and cheese Yeah i ******* love to eat So what?..i ain't no cheat Don't judge me coz you don't know nothin' about me You can't see things the way i see Everybody got their own set of baggages And i ain't no exception Life's always been cold to me... ...so i never expected no warm reception I have never quite been a believer in fate When i need it the most..it always arrives late Money never interested me... ...neither did fortune and fame Family & friends is what matter... ...everything else is just lame Politics ***** And politicians even more Very few of them work Most merely roar Society is the biggest pretender It preaches in the disguise of a bartender I cherish everyday i live I have nothing save for prayers and blessings to give As long as my mind is racing And the heart is pacing I'll keep thinking I'll keep writing I'll keep exploring
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Oct 27, 2015
Oct 27, 2015 at 4:36 PM UTC
Freestyle 2
Maybe it’s beneficial to indulge in a relation whether it be for your friends or for the nation But still there’s something that helps in speculation That ******* thing is called Isolation! Don’t wanna stay alone? Wanna go make some friends? Well, stop right there bro cuz you ain’t aware of their trends! You meet them, they like you, well that feeling is untrue, Cuz you text them, you call them, all your trust…upon them They check it out, ignore, cuz you’re being such a bore! Talk to you or call you back, depends on their funky mood, You’re a geek, you’re a freak, you ain’t got no attitude! They show up with some cool fellas who are the so-called savages, Now you, unknown lame creature are useful in holding baggages! You weep, you yell, you feel like being betrayed But you’re such a misfit, so you don’t possess what you made! So, let’s just think about it to help lay the foundation To get rid off irritation, that collage-making application, And put your concentration to the all curing Isolation! “Utkarsh Upadhyay”
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Sep 22, 2018
Sep 22, 2018 at 8:58 AM UTC
Geeks and Goofs