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"deserter" poems
*I’ve always wanted to have a friend Someone who’d be there until the end A companion through moments of hardship Not a deserter who just decides to skip I’ve always wanted to have a friend Someone who’s loyalty would never bend Together with trustworthiness and honesty He’s not a deceitful liar who just manipulates me I’ve always wanted to have a friend To have a bond no price could comprehend For neither money, nor jewelry could ever replace A friendship’s bond, an everlasting embrace*
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Jun 9, 2015
Jun 9, 2015 at 9:19 PM UTC
Friendship
Desperate deserter, you're failure's like water. Liquid and burning like fire. Bare head is crowned with thorns of betrayal, wrists are punctured with the nails of your sacrifice. Bury me now, in this sacred ground. The life that you're living is so unforgiving. **** me now with the horrid sound, Of your suffering. Clearly you're hear now. Softly you sing out. Words that stab me. Words that **** me, with longing.
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May 17, 2011
May 17, 2011 at 12:55 PM UTC
Suffering
blind and black andromeda drops her skirt and around her waist she drapes the coldest dirt when the pink pearl parade is nearing don't ask, for long forgotten what was told her monarch and viceroy we age (but don't get any older) 2 dark lovers sleeping in a midnight clearing overland their dreams they glide of a lower shaded tint darkness over top of light white chocolate eggs and mint linen kitten sheets under branches lined of frost the surface tower rises by a shower sky of cream silhouetted hours joined discreetly at the seam riding overnight trains so as not to wake the lost the cauldron of a moment seen after a lifetime's purge parallel hips that light a smile never to converge "she smells like nina simone with a humid voice like ether pastel lips, renaissance legs and august sunset ******* a second to align our love before the blackened water crests nobody, nobody, nobody knows the depths that lie beneath her this fairground love ends in blessed rapture flame the terminal separation that God has given name of a strawberry village girl isolated and honey tressed whose severed fingers have guided paths anew when she could have left she decided not to but bound her deserter's hands behind love's holy breast now the violet sands cover our tracks then shift returning to a landscape's nightly spiral drift that was the night everything changed the hunted left the hunting grounds the silence longed to find a sound the equinox flowers lay rearranged
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Sep 16, 2013
Sep 16, 2013 at 11:14 PM UTC
the separation terminal / equinox flower
We've set a precedent: Traded Bergdahl for five Terrorists... The deal is done. Questions hovering above and below... How many loyal lives were lost To bring a lone deserter back? How many lives will go because Five terrorists walked free? Did Bergdahl set up the deal To set a precedent To set up a President? Were the five men picked to trade By Us or Them? Who's running the show? Who's to blame? And Whom shall we say is calling The shots, and who can say How many lives were paid For one who just deserts? Incoming!
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Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 7:42 PM UTC
Just Deserts...
Dear ghost of a lover, Sweet, angelic thoughts. Temptation in its most swelling form. Haunt me, please haunt me? Haunt my thoughts, and my experiences... Just be there. Desperation clinging to every vibration. Vibrations devoid of you, of your presence. Decadent ghost of a stranger I must Forget. Victim to my salvation. Deserter of my desperation. Lover from a lifetime ago. Seek me. Your vengeance of Silence is too cruel. The emptiness consumes me.
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Oct 25, 2013
Oct 25, 2013 at 2:50 AM UTC
Vibrations of a Ghost
Once the Emperor Charles of Spain, With his swarthy, grave commanders, I forget in what campaign, Long besieged, in mud and rain, Some old frontier town of Flanders. Up and down the dreary camp, In great boots of Spanish leather, Striding with a measured ***** These Hidalgos, dull and damp, Cursed the Frenchmen, cursed the weather. Thus as to and fro they went, Over upland and through hollow, Giving their impatience vent, Perched upon the Emperor’s tent, In her nest, they spied a swallow. Yes, it was a swallow’s nest, Built of clay and hair of horses, Mane, or tail, or dragoon’s crest, Found on hedge-rows east and west, After skirmish of the forces. Then an old Hidalgo said, As he twirled his gray mustachio, “Sure this swallow overhead Thinks the Emperor’s tent a shed, And the Emperor but a Macho!” Hearing his imperial name Coupled with those words of malice, Half in anger, half in shame, Forth the great campaigner came Slowly from his canvas palace. “Let no hand the bird ****** Said he solemnly, “nor hurt her!” Adding then, by way of jest, “Golondrina is my guest, ’Tis the wife of some deserter!” Swift as bowstring speeds a shaft, Through the camp was spread the rumor, And the soldiers, as they quaffed Flemish beer at dinner, laughed At the Emperor’s pleasant humor. So unharmed and unafraid Sat the swallow still and brooded, Till the constant cannonade Through the walls a breach had made And the siege was thus concluded. Then the army, elsewhere bent, Struck its tents as if disbanding, Only not the Emperor’s tent, For he ordered, ere he went, Very curtly, “Leave it standing!” So it stood there all alone, Loosely flapping, torn and tattered, Till the brood was fledged and flown, Singing o’er those walls of stone Which the cannon-shot had shattered.
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1.9k
The Emperor’s Bird’s-Nest
Once the Emperor Charles of Spain, With his swarthy, grave commanders, I forget in what campaign, Long besieged, in mud and rain, Some old frontier town of Flanders. Up and down the dreary camp, In great boots of Spanish leather, Striding with a measured ***** These Hidalgos, dull and damp, Cursed the Frenchmen, cursed the weather. Thus as to and fro they went, Over upland and through hollow, Giving their impatience vent, Perched upon the Emperor’s tent, In her nest, they spied a swallow. Yes, it was a swallow’s nest, Built of clay and hair of horses, Mane, or tail, or dragoon’s crest, Found on hedge-rows east and west, After skirmish of the forces. Then an old Hidalgo said, As he twirled his gray mustachio, “Sure this swallow overhead Thinks the Emperor’s tent a shed, And the Emperor but a Macho!” Hearing his imperial name Coupled with those words of malice, Half in anger, half in shame, Forth the great campaigner came Slowly from his canvas palace. “Let no hand the bird ****** Said he solemnly, “nor hurt her!” Adding then, by way of jest, “Golondrina is my guest, ’Tis the wife of some deserter!” Swift as bowstring speeds a shaft, Through the camp was spread the rumor, And the soldiers, as they quaffed Flemish beer at dinner, laughed At the Emperor’s pleasant humor. So unharmed and unafraid Sat the swallow still and brooded, Till the constant cannonade Through the walls a breach had made And the siege was thus concluded. Then the army, elsewhere bent, Struck its tents as if disbanding, Only not the Emperor’s tent, For he ordered, ere he went, Very curtly, “Leave it standing!” So it stood there all alone, Loosely flapping, torn and tattered, Till the brood was fledged and flown, Singing o’er those walls of stone Which the cannon-shot had shattered.
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55
After, a long drawn out burning kiss that opened a never healing wound she leaves for the secret rendezvous in a verdant oasis in a distant desert. He didn't hear about her even after light years, remembrance of that kept on haunting him, for reasons he wanted to find, he burned and burned. On a full moon night after million years, searching in the desert, long hours sweating and tired like a haunted animal he found a magnificent Spinx,felt connected fell for that feminine allure, curved hips hypnotic eyes of a hermaphrodite,swell of ******* that illogically prompted him to caress, towering high at the end of an oasis, wasn't it  a construct of desire? he stood, feverishly desiring those pouting lips, the moment next, missed the one inflicted wound, in a pit inside  forbidden longings erupt when speaking  language of desire, poisoned fruits too taste dark poetry, nature flows to  symmetry "No man or woman, loved me like that" a whisper, then a hiss, in passion proclaims there she was his one time lover, cheat, deserter of his spirit's mating call, still he isn't free from delusions, she abandoned him for another, in that too wasn't sure yet another of her misadventure, does she repent? "I didn't want to miss you like this" she says "you mistook that I was in love with her, him or whatever" entanglements, there were from the word go, her eyes , he observed were sapphires, her bleached white bones, were irresistible, totems he wanted to preserve it in the museum in Cairo her being grew in to him like an oasis in a desert, a weary, insane, traveler reaches just in time for the final peaceful hour before all resolve. "Are you insane, what makes you do this again" a voice asked, another million years would pass without any solace, the sphinx, so magnificent then would be just a sand dune ! They hand in hand, would be walking over it, that sweet oblivion would remain, birth after birth.
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Aug 7, 2014
Aug 7, 2014 at 7:30 AM UTC
Her forbidden lover turns to a sphinx
After, a long drawn out burning kiss that opened a never healing wound she leaves for the secret rendezvous in a verdant oasis in a distant desert. He didn't hear about her even after light years, remembrance of that kept on haunting him, for reasons he wanted to find, he burned and burned. On a full moon night after million years, searching in the desert, long hours sweating and tired like a haunted animal he found a magnificent Spinx,felt connected fell for that feminine allure, curved hips hypnotic eyes of a hermaphrodite,swell of ******* that illogically prompted him to caress, towering high at the end of an oasis, wasn't it  a construct of desire? he stood, feverishly desiring those pouting lips, the moment next, missed the one inflicted wound, in a pit inside  forbidden longings erupt when speaking  language of desire, poisoned fruits too taste dark poetry, nature flows to  symmetry "No man or woman, loved me like that" a whisper, then a hiss, in passion proclaims there she was his one time lover, cheat, deserter of his spirit's mating call, still he isn't free from delusions, she abandoned him for another, in that too wasn't sure yet another of her misadventure, does she repent? "I didn't want to miss you like this" she says "you mistook that I was in love with her, him or whatever" entanglements, there were from the word go, her eyes , he observed were sapphires, her bleached white bones, were irresistible, totems he wanted to preserve it in the museum in Cairo her being grew in to him like an oasis in a desert, a weary, insane, traveler reaches just in time for the final peaceful hour before all resolve. "Are you insane, what makes you do this again" a voice asked, another million years would pass without any solace, the sphinx, so magnificent then would be just a sand dune ! They hand in hand, would be walking over it, that sweet oblivion would remain, birth after birth.
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42
I am your product, But not your likeness. I borrowed from you, You borrowed me. There is an evenness to our bargain As long as it stops now. You laid the cards and instilled my empathy. To never say no because I couldn't, you needed me. To listen to your explanations of family, But you stopped protecting me. Always saying it wasn't enough. That you worked hard, That you worked long, That I had no excuses, Because It's true, I didn't. I had facts of my reality; Fact of otherness, Fact of alone. Of ostracism, Of wondering if a crowd would bring me companionship. Of thinking a man was the only way to happiness, Because you seemed to think so. Of cursing your talk of family when you left to find your missing pieces in another's bed. You needing me to be strong because we were all we had; Shutting my mouth, Pressing words back into feelings. That you used me just like they claimed you'd done to them. Baring their children, not caring for their say, not asking for more. But you wanted more from me You told me often and over. Leaving me to be the milk-less maid. The child mother to her mothers children, Your sweet little children; The ones I fiercely love, The ones I fear you'll let break, Like you have broken me. My sweet little sisters. You were my first love, My first true hate. The woman who bore me, The woman who cast me out. The wisdom in my head, And the fool before my eyes. My mother, the bringer, the borrower. The one person I thought would never betray my trust; The deserter in my time of need. You may have borrowed my childhood; Forever unreturned. You may have taught me kindness in your selfishness, You may have been my hero, I thought you were one... Someone to aspire to be... But it's so simple and straight who you are now, Now that you aren't seen through the rosy cast of my child love. I play my hand, laying them down Forthright and coming. To let you know that I am no longer yours, No longer yours to borrow. I am my own, You can no longer claim me.
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Apr 2, 2013
Apr 2, 2013 at 3:01 AM UTC
The Rosy Cast of Child Love.
I am your product, But not your likeness. I borrowed from you, You borrowed me. There is an evenness to our bargain As long as it stops now. You laid the cards and instilled my empathy. To never say no because I couldn't, you needed me. To listen to your explanations of family, But you stopped protecting me. Always saying it wasn't enough. That you worked hard, That you worked long, That I had no excuses, Because It's true, I didn't. I had facts of my reality; Fact of otherness, Fact of alone. Of ostracism, Of wondering if a crowd would bring me companionship. Of thinking a man was the only way to happiness, Because you seemed to think so. Of cursing your talk of family when you left to find your missing pieces in another's bed. You needing me to be strong because we were all we had; Shutting my mouth, Pressing words back into feelings. That you used me just like they claimed you'd done to them. Baring their children, not caring for their say, not asking for more. But you wanted more from me You told me often and over. Leaving me to be the milk-less maid. The child mother to her mothers children, Your sweet little children; The ones I fiercely love, The ones I fear you'll let break, Like you have broken me. My sweet little sisters. You were my first love, My first true hate. The woman who bore me, The woman who cast me out. The wisdom in my head, And the fool before my eyes. My mother, the bringer, the borrower. The one person I thought would never betray my trust; The deserter in my time of need. You may have borrowed my childhood; Forever unreturned. You may have taught me kindness in your selfishness, You may have been my hero, I thought you were one... Someone to aspire to be... But it's so simple and straight who you are now, Now that you aren't seen through the rosy cast of my child love. I play my hand, laying them down Forthright and coming. To let you know that I am no longer yours, No longer yours to borrow. I am my own, You can no longer claim me.
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60
Vocal silence Does for an Argument make. You hide behind your belligerence; With mortar of icy rage and Stones of cold indifference, Laid with trowels of denial, Lobbing nothing wrong Like fury-fueled firebombs Then you run a mile. It's not a war, It's a conflict. I'm hunting through a jungle Of stone-walled edicts, My defensive guns laying ammo On metaphorical trees Guilty of hiding the dead. A bunker deep enemy, Safe in their concrete head. Hunting a deserter Who spent a lifetime Learning camouflage techniques, Sulking under cover, Lining up their gently angry shot For when the cross-hairs meet. I would call you out, But you would only go in. It's like fighting a shadow, My silent twin; Naturally nurtured To hide behind benevolence And fight a cold war. I warn you, it's growing thin.
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Feb 28, 2015
Feb 28, 2015 at 8:06 PM UTC
War of Silence
Deserter.                 _ __            / Bird __ in\ the hand, Snake /of a _feat\her,   Sa/nd b/lo_w\i/ng in the evershiftin win/d.\  \  \_'_     /   I'\m only empty pockets now, M/y heart is full of sin.     \\ ./. /\
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Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 7:03 AM UTC
Deserter
She used to hear her heart call But she allowed herself to fall She will never return back to then Never allow herself to love her men She is a love deserter, love deserter She won't allow anyone to hurt her She only sees her emotions fade Not getting close is the price she paid Never listens to those romantic words said Takes only her desire then leaves the bed She is a love deserter, love deserter She won't allow anyone to hurt her She is the one in control of her lust Leaving you crawling in the dust She has lost her passion to love Crushes your heart with an iron glove She is a love deserter, love deserter She won't allow anyone to hurt her To feel for someone, it's been too long All that she had, it's now all gone Secretly there will be only one man she needs But he rejected her, it's why her heart bleeds She is a love deserter, love deserter She won't allow anyone to hurt her She used to hear her heart call But she allowed herself to fall She is a love deserter, love deserter She won't allow anyone to hurt her
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Nov 5, 2010
Nov 5, 2010 at 8:13 PM UTC
335: Love Deserter
Full moon to no moon. .. it's a black night.... obama throw our country out the window.... it's not just his fault though.   It's these greedy *** wholes... our resources are going down... but noone cares..... we as a nation.. need to pay attention..   the real worlds not just a tv show... everyone is brained washed in our nation... It's hard to say proud to be an American.. When the world is laughing... Our own president negotiated with terrorist... One law we stood by.. Any why... For a deserter.. Who should of had his head cut off... Between politics... And big corporations... Kids my age are in a daze... They can repeat every word to every song... But not one of our founding fathers... Who by the way.. Didn't just concentrate on one thing... Somehow along the way.. We turned politics in to a career.. A game... We as the people of our nation.. Need to stand up.. Start paying attention... And make this country... The best it can be.... So we can stand up.. With our heads held high.. And scream. I'm proud to be an American
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Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 11:10 AM UTC
let's stand together!!
Are you my family? Enemy? Or my deserter? I was stuck with bills and a reputation where I had to endure stares and revocations. Revelations I learned that blood is never thicker than water. Falling down stairs A broken and feeble weak man Nights of hospital rooms and no one to visit me as I healed from hell Again and again I believed their lies and I had been the one who had fell to their lies and actions they ran away and left me to take the blame to take the fall A bleeding heart and knife stabbing emptiness My true family was not a sister and or brother It was another Who held out a hand and then walked with me Not to place me as the scape goat or the fall guy For they tested me with truth and opened up my blind eyes For blood is never thicker than water until they cut you and bleed you and make you sick Then the ones who value you the most do pick one up when he is sick
0
May 9, 2017
May 9, 2017 at 11:15 PM UTC
Family
So, hide behind that ink pen and wit you're so proud of. But I know the truth. You're like a child lost in a shopping mall. Alone, clinging to passersby. Wanting to ask the clerk to page your family, but too shy to suggest. So, hide behind your so-called friends and flee from your idiosyncrasies. But, you and I both know you're a deserter. smile and laugh with them, but you're still coming home with me. So, hide behind your charisma and guile. You're not as clever as you think because, I'm still here when you close your eyes And you're still taking me home with you.
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Feb 21, 2011
Feb 21, 2011 at 9:48 AM UTC
Passenger
I deserted from the paradise to explore the universe Because God made me excellent but also just diverse I wanted to be considered at length while I was terse With visions to explore horizons to be more transverse I came across a sand dunes with its real musical tunes Then I saw beauty with very many galaxies and moons Love came down to me like drizzling rain in monsoons A fairy in her golden dress came to me for honeymoons Beam of light struck to complete the pursuit of my soul A glowing beauty touched my heart as my ultimate goal Sentiments started moving from part to part ,pole to pole Love reinvigorated celebrated in shape of love as a whole Col Muhammad Khalid Khan Copyright 2016 Golden Glow
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Jul 9, 2016
Jul 9, 2016 at 4:03 AM UTC
The Real Deserter
I am tired, I am worn I just realized how love could easily be dispensed for another I loved you with every molecule of my being I’d like to move on with you But I guess, you want to move on with someone else Am I too pure, too innocent for you? Am I taking this too seriously, it scares you? You said, I’m a "rarity", but you expect me to woo you like the previous person that devastated you? I’d like you to think this out really carefully Because I'm tired of the mix signals you're giving off Because I'm tired from laying low I’m thinking of letting you go, for real this time I tried my best to make you aware my love I’m sorry if it wasn’t enough A sputtering star trying to draw your attention, shimmering haplessly Perhaps, I’m just a speck of dust in your vast cosmos—surrounded with stars more alluring I tried to see you as a friend, but I just can’t see things the way they were I can’t simply revert back to my former self, and pretend nothing happened, because something did You taught me that just because we had so much in common, even if we shared the same views, the same quirks, and once, the same longing for each other You can still be cruel enough to leave a laceration at someone’s heart that throbs for you You can still clog someone's lungs with tar and nails who’s very purpose is to breathe for you Please do not have the audacity to think that my arms are always unfurled for you, because I will still love you, but no longer as a lover, but as a compassionate deserter My heart still burns for you, but I have to look away with just enough coldness to keep my sanity Should I take this as a trial or a memorial? Think carefully, my soulmate Think, very carefully, my love
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Aug 30, 2015
Aug 30, 2015 at 8:12 AM UTC
Worn-out
I am tired, I am worn I just realized how love could easily be dispensed for another I loved you with every molecule of my being I’d like to move on with you But I guess, you want to move on with someone else Am I too pure, too innocent for you? Am I taking this too seriously, it scares you? You said, I’m a "rarity", but you expect me to woo you like the previous person that devastated you? I’d like you to think this out really carefully Because I'm tired of the mix signals you're giving off Because I'm tired from laying low I’m thinking of letting you go, for real this time I tried my best to make you aware my love I’m sorry if it wasn’t enough A sputtering star trying to draw your attention, shimmering haplessly Perhaps, I’m just a speck of dust in your vast cosmos—surrounded with stars more alluring I tried to see you as a friend, but I just can’t see things the way they were I can’t simply revert back to my former self, and pretend nothing happened, because something did You taught me that just because we had so much in common, even if we shared the same views, the same quirks, and once, the same longing for each other You can still be cruel enough to leave a laceration at someone’s heart that throbs for you You can still clog someone's lungs with tar and nails who’s very purpose is to breathe for you Please do not have the audacity to think that my arms are always unfurled for you, because I will still love you, but no longer as a lover, but as a compassionate deserter My heart still burns for you, but I have to look away with just enough coldness to keep my sanity Should I take this as a trial or a memorial? Think carefully, my soulmate Think, very carefully, my love
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26
What have I done but obey the cynical dogma that plagues the patriots? (then to be rewarded with the cutting rattle of the guns that dehumanised the holiest saints. MIA the pawn who obeyed.) Can we sacrifice to "the Cause", for the end? (without the other side sacrificing more. Men should press toward the enemy. We will win because ten minus one equals nine Rip the glorified general.) Possibly **** the man I call brother for hesitation. (with the gun that conscripted me to his side. "killed for the disobeying of orders". They will say that I was a traitor But never a man of his country RIP the brother that hesitated.) Justify the sin that will be forced upon my brother. (As I will not commit the sun that will be forced upon me. RIP the holy deserter.) The multination of a child. (Thats what Devils do. That's what they did to me. Destroying what I took for granted. RIP the young amputee.) Glorification of the war as some sort of game. ("Come sign up you be a hero" I lied in front of them But back then I even believed myself. RIP the gulibal propagandist) In war winning is living (Yet not a one I am willing to play. RIP the veteran) Destruction of the family tree (Destiny was not prepared for the irrational. RIP the mother that worried) What can possibly justify the glorification in destruction?
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Dec 4, 2015
Dec 4, 2015 at 5:22 PM UTC
Unknown
Speeding down the road In my shiny silver corvette. The wind blasting my face, Only open country highway Coming my way. So I fiddle with the **** On my old radio To find something worth playing. Crackle A man calls out, Deperate in his attempts To get the attention Of the most beautiful girl Who's with another man... Next! Pop A woman sobs loudly Over losing her true love, Over being left alone. She wants the deserter back But at what cost... Flip! Pssshht A couple find each other. They are destined to be, To have the beautiful wedding, To raise the perfect family, To live the American Dream...   Turn off! My god They are everywhere   No wonder my life's   A love song That must be why I want to hold someone In my arms In my heart In my mind So, so badly, I want to find someone That fits me That loves me That's THE ONE Of course I want someone to call me Boyfriend Love   Husband It is plastered everywhere   All these childhood fantasies All this innocent thinking All this wonderful imagining.   And I devour it all   Because I have no reason   To believe it's impossibe Even though it'll be hard. You might think I'm   Pathetic and foolish; You might call me silly; You can laugh away, But my life is a love song And I bet yours is too. You just haven't thought about it. It's probably best if you try not to. So my life is a love song. Is it something you'd listen to?
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Sep 20, 2010
Sep 20, 2010 at 10:59 AM UTC
Hopelessly Romantic
It was killed before it was tortured nothing dead could be hurt they said but what was hurt here was already dead what had taken years and nurtured you killed it, World be cursed, and behold sinner! here comes the night And slowly does it strike the spark of the stars the final hours i cry ****** ****** and i dare you run and see your conscience be a deserter And i shall give a death not from a gun neither a blade for the matter but i shall **** Vanquish your pride first then end the thirst for your recognitions so utterly desired and **** your self with the pelf you killed mine and in hopes of this the night shall dine with your fears and resentment while i shall feast in your fears Here I come...
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Aug 17, 2013
Aug 17, 2013 at 9:59 AM UTC
****** was cried at night
Let my beaten heart take console That you, my dear friend, Have been, and are by my side. What but that, I live by? True as you have been to me, Your worth is beyond my price. I might be a lot of things, but not A deserter. I am the same within. All I ask is a little more faith And not ask where I've been all day For how can I, my dearest, confess That I have been busy making mistakes.
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Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 8:22 AM UTC
Busy Making Mistakes
Onward the battle raged where he stood deafened by the pounding guns! Around him comrades lives were taken every loss the emotions it stuns. Trapped amongst the running blood in his eyes the tears flood! Whichever way he rotated death is close in the mind trepidation. Each explosion magnified had to get away comrades buried in the soil! More still and silent besides him here how he missed those so dear. Day after day facing the same pointless hell forgotten soldiers just statistics. Who would become another long lost story on official forms a few ticks. Honoured with posthumous medals and grief lives blown away like the autumn leaf. Wanting to escape from purgatory to heaven compelled to find the route. Voices telling him to seek his lost sanity his rifle never more to shoot. Knowing he'd be a deserter to the crown forcibly being brought down! Dragged before a court martial for treason no mercy for a shell shocked soldier! Mentally scared by the brutality of war a young man not getting older. Not killed by the barrage of enemy gunfire but firing squad he'd expire! Classed then as a deserters not victims of the great war never seeing their families any more! The Foureyed Poet
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Mar 13, 2012
Mar 13, 2012 at 11:14 PM UTC
Onward The Battle!
we were wandering down the side of the highway, pickin' blackberries on the way back to the car. this'd hit my mind many times over the past week, and will probably continue out into the future: there's somethin' ticking away in there, makes me shrink away from humanity, despite the loneliness i ain't wanna amplify any. words i need to say crop up, out of the blue mist of living, and internally i make all the motions to spread 'em out, see the way my hands, lips would move, in exact musculature sweeps. but it don't follow through. is this leavin' blues? that if i shrink away from those who care, it'll be easier to let go once more? or just an excuse for laziness (fairly sure 'twas for the last month or so, last city)? if i swore i'd love equally and with open heart, why can't i keep eye contact, even with my own cousin? is this penance for all ashamedness i can't slip from my hands? i'm full of excuses and few good ones. i am changing and learning to let go, but understand that perhaps i need to learn to hold on a little better. is it possible to figure it out before true wrenching loss colours my palette? or is it necessary to keep shedding skin to find meaning? don't know how to express fully how much people mean to me, and can't seem to do anything in a half-measure. is it okay to settle for flawed motions, to prevent from seeming bored? to act as i see through in others, find of little use; is it instead endearing, or even just to confer base notions in a derobed manner? how do these shells come away? how do these walls tear down?
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Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 5:09 AM UTC
deserter (2)
we were wandering down the side of the highway, pickin' blackberries on the way back to the car. this'd hit my mind many times over the past week, and will probably continue out into the future: there's somethin' ticking away in there, makes me shrink away from humanity, despite the loneliness i ain't wanna amplify any. words i need to say crop up, out of the blue mist of living, and internally i make all the motions to spread 'em out, see the way my hands, lips would move, in exact musculature sweeps. but it don't follow through. is this leavin' blues? that if i shrink away from those who care, it'll be easier to let go once more? or just an excuse for laziness (fairly sure 'twas for the last month or so, last city)? if i swore i'd love equally and with open heart, why can't i keep eye contact, even with my own cousin? is this penance for all ashamedness i can't slip from my hands? i'm full of excuses and few good ones. i am changing and learning to let go, but understand that perhaps i need to learn to hold on a little better. is it possible to figure it out before true wrenching loss colours my palette? or is it necessary to keep shedding skin to find meaning? don't know how to express fully how much people mean to me, and can't seem to do anything in a half-measure. is it okay to settle for flawed motions, to prevent from seeming bored? to act as i see through in others, find of little use; is it instead endearing, or even just to confer base notions in a derobed manner? how do these shells come away? how do these walls tear down?
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Postmortem thoughts raced in his head The wet-blanketed machinery post war over-head Tassels in the stream wave lengthened and abated Left under wrought iron, muted and latent   Grave-full the wondering over hills Smoke ridden skies play fiddles for thrills Marked a deserter a coward to-be Stave joins the uniform woe is the helmet free Consumption as the assault forum Malaria under tent field wounds Strategically sound mortals woven and bound Orders on muskets, send out the hounds! Bought for the trade ore a plantation plow Burned to rubble soot and sow Family mantle abandon its urn No food for the season now is their turn
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Jul 24, 2019
Jul 24, 2019 at 5:18 PM UTC
The Forgotten Hero
My love is so innocent that she carries her heart in her eyes Light of galaxies of stars surrounds her I can easily recognize Land kisses her feet ,glowing cheeks are touched by the skies Love and beauty are chained from the beginning in love ties The words fail when I appreciate your beauty as a real lover Only my emotions and sentiments make my heart ,soul stir For silly questions of the world I do not just have any answer Love is strange thing either one takes to the gallows or to altar Light of God travels in man in the shape of real ordained soul Man being chained in fine love strings only plays his real role He is like a deserter from paradise being on temporary parole From pace to pace ,pole to pole strangeness prevails as a whole Col Muhammad Khalid Khan Copyright 2016 Golden Glow
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Jul 5, 2016
Jul 5, 2016 at 8:56 AM UTC
On Temporary Parole
They want me to come to them, they miss me they say, they’ll take care of me they say. These ghosts try to bribe me with empty promises and voided checks. An illusion of happiness and peace if i only give up the life i’m currently living and return to God They have no idea how ive changed. How clearly i can see now. Lady justice might be blind but i dont have to be, impartial justice doesnt exist with ghosts, never has and it never will. These ghosts no longer talk to me, i’ve strayed to far off the narrow road. Shunned for wanting to live a life that is my own, for wanting to love someone who is apart of the world. For so many things that i have done and that i continue to do and none of them are even evil! Not to the living at least. The memories of the years i devoted haunt me. I had tried so hard, so very very hard to prove my worth. To show them i could be a loyal follower of christ as well, the ghosts didnt care, it didnt matter how much i was struggling, how close to the edge i was, the traumas ive been through. I didnt pray enough, i didnt throw my burden solely upon god, i didnt go out and preach the word of god enough Instead i had turned to the world for help, i had turned towards people who’s job was to help me not want to die, to help me work through my problems. I had turned my back on the ghosts. And every-time i had tried to return to them they only made it harder for me to get into paradise. And after all they had done, after being labeled a deserter and being shunned, i still miss them. I sometimes still wish i could go back Making the choice to leave the organization easy. Not returning to God is the hard part.
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Oct 5, 2018
Oct 5, 2018 at 9:57 AM UTC
Desperation and a cry for help
They want me to come to them, they miss me they say, they’ll take care of me they say. These ghosts try to bribe me with empty promises and voided checks. An illusion of happiness and peace if i only give up the life i’m currently living and return to God They have no idea how ive changed. How clearly i can see now. Lady justice might be blind but i dont have to be, impartial justice doesnt exist with ghosts, never has and it never will. These ghosts no longer talk to me, i’ve strayed to far off the narrow road. Shunned for wanting to live a life that is my own, for wanting to love someone who is apart of the world. For so many things that i have done and that i continue to do and none of them are even evil! Not to the living at least. The memories of the years i devoted haunt me. I had tried so hard, so very very hard to prove my worth. To show them i could be a loyal follower of christ as well, the ghosts didnt care, it didnt matter how much i was struggling, how close to the edge i was, the traumas ive been through. I didnt pray enough, i didnt throw my burden solely upon god, i didnt go out and preach the word of god enough Instead i had turned to the world for help, i had turned towards people who’s job was to help me not want to die, to help me work through my problems. I had turned my back on the ghosts. And every-time i had tried to return to them they only made it harder for me to get into paradise. And after all they had done, after being labeled a deserter and being shunned, i still miss them. I sometimes still wish i could go back Making the choice to leave the organization easy. Not returning to God is the hard part.
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