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Shrivastva MK May 2015
Tere pyar ne mujhe pagal bna diya ,
Tujhme khoye hain hum es kadar ki,
apna nam pata bhi bhula diya,
Jawane Se chhupa ke ki tujhse mohabbat ,
Par tune mujhe jawane se hi begana bna diya,
Tere pyar ne mujhe pagal bna diya....


Tere intezar me har pal ji raha hu ghut ghut
ke,
kaha chali gayi ** sanam tum mujhse ruth ke,
ab to jine ka sahara hain bus teri ye yadein,
Soch kar biti baton ko nam ** jati hai meri ye
aankhen,
Teri wafawon ne mera sab kuchh jala diya,
tere pyar ne mujhe pagal bna diya. ..


chalti raho me tujhe dhundh raha hoon,
chand taro se tera pta puchh raha hoon,
tune mere dil me ek jagah bna liya,
tere pyar ne mujhe pagal bna diya....


mat dena dhokha tum mujhe pyar me
ai sanam nahi to tut jaunga,
chhod tumhe mai es duniya se chala jaunga,
laut ke phir mai kabhi na aaunga,
tere esk me maine teri har kamiyo ko bhula
diya,
tere pyar ne mujhe pagal bna diya. ..


yaadon ko teri  Manish  likh raha apni kalam se
es tarah ki,
teri nafrat ko bhi usne amrit bna diya,
tere pyar ne mujhe pagal bna diya,
tere pyar ne mujhe pagal bna diya....
Blake Bourland Jan 2013
I had a Bukowski in me
but I had to finish mixing my drink
The next best seller
but I had to add the vermouth
It was poetic genius
you cant forget the olive
but i’ll lose it if I dont move
I need a pen, i need to get to my computer, i need to do something fast
but it’s long gone now
sifted through the frontal cortex like so much sand through my fingers
and it was going to be the next big one,
the one that would get me out of here
make me the big shot
published author
but no...
the worst part of it is
I used too much vermouth
Corset Jun 2015
The road to
has been long.
Worn each day
charmed upon wrist,
shiny trinkets of
silver,
jingling
forget-me-not.

The sound of smiles
were sometimes
counted upon like days
taken for granted
we should always be
lips turned up
in the darker corners.

The way sunlight strobes
through glinting trees
at 70 miles an hour
on our way home
to somewhere,
we have to be
for fresh coffee.

Never dreamed
we would ever be,
roadside
our tongues tied
words strung like
feathered frowns
of long dead Indians
battered by the way side.
Morrison-esk tears on blue
voice of a stranger's hat-
Imagine that
a cursed heart
that slays the dawn
waves angered on
stands still waiting
roadside Samaritans
will live without eyes,
laughter of friends,
stumbling worlds
will be less everything
colorful,
when you are gone.
Lost Mar 2018
Drowning in a sea of my own creation, a black void of crashing waves that erode my bedrock, slowly but surely.

The knight watches from the cliff top, his sword dangling helplessly by his side, knowing the fruitless endeavour of attempting battle with the creature, was just that. He falls to his knees, begging the merciless gods to release his world from its onslaught of tendril esk darkness.

But the cries fall on deaf ears as the monster deity unleashes yet another wave of black and the sky falls into the sea with an impossible crack.

The storm rages on as its host shambles around its own reality, the now black skies reflect in its eyes, but the light of the stars has since been extinguished. The firery core has been contained within the maelstrom of black. And the throbbing sentience is being infected and enslaved by the demon god once and for all.

The knight is a fugitive in the world that was crafted for him. His armour is battered and flawed from the constant losing fight he was destined to wage, forever. The arm that once held the mighty sword of light feels like the weight of a thousand men were standing on it. And the sword is glowing ever fainter.

But still, the war goes on, the casualties rise and the demon god is winning. This is no fairy tale, our hero is not recovering and the monster has no weakness.

This is real life.
My... life.
So I’m trying this thing where I write poetry, without poem formatting...
am i ee Jun 2023
eileen’s dream


was it you?
was it us?

was it you as me?
was it me as you?

shifting, changing
polarities, dualities

did eileen ever
have any dream?

or just this waking one
intermixed with her
sleeping ones?

or was it just a cigar
named for an eileen?



~esk June 2023
Bekah Halle May 28
More complex than Pythagoras;
A bland pallet beckoning discovery, calling intrepid adventurers to see the beauty in the desert.
Causing admiration and repulsion; Frankenstein-esk, forever a mystery.
Days numbered as the hairs on your head; a cold case beset for the archives or a small child screaming “pick me!”?
am i ee Sep 2023
hello boy,
who is me!

you don't answer,
so i see.

you are me.
don't you see?

lost in duality!

you and me.

~~~

2023 esk
#nonduality #love #loss #bofriend #adaita #wonder #life

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