"hara" poems
Main Aur mere roommates
aksar Yeh Baatain Karte Hain
Ghar saaf hota to kaisa hota
Main kitchen saaf karta, tum bathrooom dhote
main hall saaf karta, tum balcony dekhte
Log is baat pe hairaan hote
aur us baat pe haste….
Main aur mere roommates,
aksar Yeh Baatain Karte Hain
Yeh hara bhara sink hai
ya bartanon ki jang chidi hui hai
Yeh colour full kitchen hai
ya masalon se holi kheli hai
Hai farsh ki nayi design
ya doodh, beer se dhuli hui hain
Yeh cellphone hai ya dhakkan,
sleeping bag ya kisika aanchal,
ye airfreshner ka naya flavour hai,
ya trash bag se ati badboo
Yeh pattiyon ki hai sarsarahut
ke heater phirse kharab hua hai
Yeh sonchta hain roommate kab se gum sum -
Ke jab ke usko bhi yeh khabar hai
Ke machar nahi hai, kaheen nahi hai
magar uska dil hai ke kah raha hai
machar yaheen hai, yaheen kaheen hai !
Toand ( pet ) ki ye haalat, meri bhi hai, uski bhi,
dil mein ek tasvir idhar bhi hai, udhar bhi
Karne ko bohot kuch hai magar kab kare hum
Kab tak yoon hi is tarah rahe hum
Dil kahta hai Safeway se koi vaccum cleaner la de
ye Carpet jo jine ko zoonz raha hai, fikwa de
Hum saaf rahe sakte hai, logon ko bata dain,
Haan hum roommates hai – roommates hai – roommates hai
Ab dil main yehi baaaat, idhar bhi hai udhar bhi..
Sab ko bata dain..
Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 11:38 AM UTC
JISKI DHUN PAR DUNIA NAACHE ,DIL AISA EK TARA HAI
JO HUMKO BHI PYARA HAI AYR JO TUMKO BHI PYARA HAI
JHUM RAHI HAI SAARI DUNIA JABKI HUMARO GEETO PAR
TAB KAHTI ** PYAR HUA HAI KYA EHSHAN TUMHARA HAI
JO DHARTI SE MABAR JODE USKA NAAM MUHABBAT HAI
JO SEESHE SE PATTHAR TODE USKA NAAM MUHABBAT HAI
KTARA*2 SAGAR TAK ** JATI HAI HAR UMR MAGAR
BAHATA DARAIA WAPAS MODE USKA NAAM MUHABBAT HAI
PANAHO ME JO AAYA ** TO USPE WAR KYA KARNA ?
JO DIL HARA HUA ** USPE FIR ADHIKAR KYA KARNA ?
MUHABBAT KA MAZA TO DUBANE KI KASHMKASH ME HAI
JAB ** MALUM GAHRAI TO DARIA PAAR KYA KARNA
BASTI BASTI GHOR UDASI PARVAT PARVAT KHALIPAN
MAN HIRA BEMOL BIK GAYA GHIS GHIS REETA TAN CHANDAN
IS DHARTI SE US AMBAR TAK DO HI CHEEJ GAJAB KI HAI
EK TO TERA BHOLAPAN HAI EK MERA DEEWANAPAN
TUMHARE PAAS HU LEKIN JO DURI HAI SAMAJHTA HU
TUMHARE BIN MERI HASTI ADHURI MAI SAMAJHTA HU
BAHUT BIKHARA BAHUT TUTA THAPEDE SAH NAHI PAYA
HAWAO KE ISHARO PAR MAGAR MAI BAH NAHI PAYA
ADHURA ANSUNA HI RAH GAYA YU PYAR KA KISSA
KABHITUM SUN NAHI PAYI KABHI MAI KAH NAHI PAYA...
WRITTEN BY : SHASHANK KUMAR DWIVEDI
[email protected] (FACEBOOK)
Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 8:27 AM UTC
Being wiccan is my calling it's my religion.
It is the well i drink from it quenches my souls thirst.
The god and goddess are my rulers i heed their call.
I follow the call of the elements earth, air, fire and water.
Wicca is something i can count on when i have nothing to give.
Wicca is something that gives me a sense of safety and relief.
When i know i have nothing i know i have wicca.
Blessed Be! be the the ancients for they dance with me.
The knowledge of wicca the complex magic is food for my soul.
The deities walk with me i feel their love, their protection.
No fear will tweak my soul no outer force will break my strength.
I will forever seek to learn the wiccan ways and laws,
For being wiccan is in my blood.
Written 5th July 2014 By Kelly O'Hara
Jul 9, 2014
Jul 9, 2014 at 3:46 PM UTC
If I ever see you again
I'll spat insults and hope they
Spray on your aviators
like the bugs that squashed against
my windshield the last time
I drove away from you
If fate destroys me
and I am in the same pub one night
as your wormy self
I'll tell you how you're the most
arrogant, vapid, shallow, womanizing,
******* male mascot
I've ever had the disgust to know
I'll slap you hard across the face
Oh and not like Scarlett O'Hara,
you demon darling
No crushing kiss will follow
and I'll mean vengence
vile will seep through my mouth
instead of the sweet saliva
I let you taste
long ago
If I ever hear your voice
or see your mocking manequin
among my tele again
With disgraceful force
I will lift that 50 lb set
and propel that ******* screen
across the state
The way your black static apology
shattered the brightness
that used to reside
within
me
If I hear of you
one more dispicable time
I'll grow bombs maticulously
within my empty core
and time them so perfectly
that all of your dysfunctional doormat
confidants
will explode the second they come near me
and their manipulative cells
will burst
and be burried among the soil
of ***** words
you whispered in my ears
**** if I ever see you again
I'll shatter every martini glass around me
and down a fifth of fireball
and breath venomous fire
and burn you, you beastly boy
And I'll pretend beauty amongst you
and walk away, a tall glass of water
That could diffuse
that angry licking fire
that is swallowing you up
When I see you again
I won't acknowledge your existence
and I'll be dressed to the nines
and I won't do a ******* thing about it
Because you aren't worth a sentence within this stanza
But I know I am.
Feb 7, 2013
Feb 7, 2013 at 11:03 PM UTC
Indian Legends.
The Legend of Triambakeshwar
The supreme Lords, Brahma and Vishnu
On that auspicious day were fighting for the highest milestone
For honour
Claiming Wisdom
Voicing out their mighty combat impale
At that very moment, a resplendant pillar
Emerged, took form before them
Standing tall into the skies and stooping low spearing the Earth.
Brahma and Vishnu saw the pillar
As an examiner of infinite Wisdom
They both decided to find either end of the pillar
to prove their supreme position.
Brahma took form of a swan
to find the topmost portion of the pillar
Vishnu turns into a Boar, being the land's wild driller
to discover the bottom part of this pillar.
Brahma returns and lies to Vishnu
"I Have Found My Goal, 'O Vishnu"
Lord Vishnu surrenders with a humble heart
A fruitless effortless failure.
This pillar is no ordinary pillar
The Legend holds it as the sacred Linga
The Lord of Lords, the destroyer of Evil
The three-eyed one, the blue-throated one
Neelakanta,Shiva,Mrida,Rudra
Dayakara,Hara,Maheshwara
The Lord with 1008 titles of honour
Ageless, timeless, formless,
Limitless.
Shiva cursed Brahma that day dusk
**"Your foul deceit smells above this land, Brahmadev
Punishment is a part of crime.
You shall never be worshipped under the stone-carved.
Temples shan't have place for you"**
Brahma, enraged, growled upon the Lord
**"Your greatness shall be pushed into this Earth
Into the same pillar, the Linga!
At the foot of Sahyradri, your abode lies
from now,
till forever comes."**
Dear Fearless Devotee, know this that you must
On the dark midnight of this hand-chosen day
Maha Shivratri
The Holy Linga takes form as the Lingodbhav Moorti
At the blessed land of Triambakeshwara.
From underneath the Earth,
Like a descendant from the skies
The ruler of the seven worlds
Bhu, Bhuvas, Svar, Mahas, Janas, Tapas, Satya
The invincible source of destruction
Of the Seven Hells, Paatala
*Atala, Vitala, Sutala, Rasaataala, Talatala, Mahaatala,
The Patala.*
Feb 27, 2014
Feb 27, 2014 at 7:21 AM UTC
ketika berjalan di atas rumput
waktu seakan melambat
seakan aku melangkah terseok
seakan bumi berusaha menelan kakiku
kubiarkan tubuhku terjatuh
sementara mataku memanah langit
menunggu alam menjamahku
menggerogoti nadiku
tulang sumsumku
nyawaku
biarlah darahku menjadi nutrisi bagi tanah
mungkin dagingku bergizi bagi hewan liar
sementara tubuhku membusuk
bersatu dengan hara
tunas-tunas mungil muncul dari dalam
dan bunga-bungaan bermekaran
di antara tulang rusukku
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 9:03 AM UTC
These lines are written
In the slow nowhere zone of sleep
My fingers animated with thoughts
All their own
I don't have to pretend
Ambien's licking in
Like a donkey straight
To the beck of my neck
I've seen it done enough time
Not to fooled into thinking it's here for
Hare Krishna Hare Krishna Krishna Krishna hara hara hara Rama. Hara Rama , ram EMram hare hare.
Maybe that's the strong wind that guided my pen
Benevolent trickster soon to.bury. The things
that make him whole
Someone is mowing theirbli
It happens on ambien
But I swear there's. Meaning somewhere hidden between bags of honey oil **** ands great changjbbbbb
He might be a nice guy...... Nice and buxom, he could eliminate the thy free of before his Pixar
My mind thinks one thing and fgisvonytspio
Oct 10, 2014
Oct 10, 2014 at 12:57 AM UTC
Having a Coke with You
is even more fun than going to San Sebastian, Irún, Hendaye, Biarritz, Bayonne
or being sick to my stomach on the Travesera de Gracia in Barcelona
partly because in your orange shirt you look like a better happier St. Sebastian
partly because of my love for you, partly because of your love for yoghurt
partly because of the fluorescent orange tulips around the birches
partly because of the secrecy our smiles take on before people and statuary
it is hard to believe when I’m with you that there can be anything as still
as solemn as unpleasantly definitive as statuary when right in front of it
in the warm New York 4 o’clock light we are drifting back and forth
between each other like a tree breathing through its spectacles
and the portrait show seems to have no faces in it at all, just paint
you suddenly wonder why in the world anyone ever did them
I look
at you and I would rather look at you than all the portraits in the world
except possibly for the Polish Rider occasionally and anyway it’s in the Frick
which thank heavens you haven’t gone to yet so we can go together the first time
and the fact that you move so beautifully more or less takes care of Futurism
just as at home I never think of the **** Descending a Staircase or
at a rehearsal a single drawing of Leonardo or Michelangelo that used to wow me
and what good does all the research of the Impressionists do them
when they never got the right person to stand near the tree when the sun sank
or for that matter Marino Marini when he didn’t pick the rider as carefully
as the horse
it seems they were all cheated of some marvelous experience
which is not going to go wasted on me which is why I am telling you about it
by,
FRANK O'HARA
Mar 13, 2013
Mar 13, 2013 at 12:27 PM UTC
when self-inflicted
or as counter,
the adrenaline is missing;
mind you the hara-kiri:
the sudden thrill,
the sudden attack!
it paces the heart differently
from a belief in a self...
the heart paces differently,
it's an entire revisionist sub-plot
of the book of genesis;
it almost makes Dante pigeon-shit.
that's the problem with suicide
it's hardly adrenaline ensured
surprising, the predestination of it
being all top surprising as motivational
to provide us a new Cain of the future...
rightfully i'd rather be stunned
into a shock of adrenaline by a murderer,
than by injection of overpowering myself:
the adrenaline missing in suicide
is the real philosophical issue...
the adrenaline missing due to premonition,
the lack of shock... suicide in philosophical
debate is pure chemistry:
to commit suicide is to devolve chemically
without the required boiling points or infusions
of: suddenly.
May 2, 2016
May 2, 2016 at 10:45 PM UTC
Read me O'Hara
As we sit on the Seine
And I'll swirl my toes in perfect circles
While I watch your shoulders rise and fall.
You'll stop for a cigarette
And I'll beam, remembering the poem
I wrote solely dedicated to the laugh you
Make while you smoke.
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 9:42 PM UTC
Aadat si thi
Phir se pyar se bhara
ghumsum e Nazar
Nazarein bekabu Ishq ki Tamannah
Aur phir..
Waqt se hara ...
Waqt se koso dur...
Apni dhun e dhunki
Raaste Sajata
Bawra mann...
Feb 17, 2018
Feb 17, 2018 at 11:07 PM UTC
Purple is my favorite color
But I hate plum,
New Brunswick skies appear so ugly
But they are good for telling the weather
I wish you would stop cleaning your stupid boat
Which think what you want
But it’s not really a yacht,
At least Girj says so
I believe it’s important to get *****
Like how the stray kittens in my backyard play
As I smoke stoags and light bowls
In my stoop kid fashion kind of way
And I really wouldn’t mind having a coke with
Frank O’Hara
Or a beer with Charles Bukowski,
In fact I think I’d enjoy it
But everyone has their secrets
I tend to buy mine at Kohl’s;
And I hope you realize
This happens to be my life poured into a paper cup
Just incase you get thirsty
While you’re cleaning your stupid boat
Oct 18, 2012
Oct 18, 2012 at 3:48 AM UTC
Let me write you a poem
Between blue lines and red crosses and silly hairstyles
A poem that will eloquently tell
How you shone like dim stars on a pitch black beach
Figuratively
Full of HYPERBOLES! and synecdoches
About your misaligned teeth and your roaring, cackling laugh
It will drown you in allusions,
In perfectly crafted hybrid adjectives
That will tell
How you got caught in revolving doors
And how I laughed.
I hope you have seen the Spolarium
Because the poem will use it to denote
How I knew you were fine
But I never knew you'd be so huge
If you haven't,
We can see it together
The poem will trump Poe and O'Hara and Bukowski and Neruda
They will call it God's gift to Poetry
Studied and deconstructed
For the next few centuries
It was found taped under a desk they will say
And they will scour the world to find
That lovely mysterious beautiful person in the poem
Let me write you that poem
So that when they find you
Only the greatest people on this planet
Will read it to you.
May 15, 2013
May 15, 2013 at 5:30 AM UTC
They watch from the shadows, they hide in plain sight.
Weapons that whisper silence and death, Masks that hide truth.
Illusions are revealed to be lies, Kings and peasants will die alike side by side.
Lights dwindle and shadows flicker, the night is young.
The path of the assassin is hard they are always in death's backyard.
The traits of the skilled, the doers of evil are all laid before the assassins creed.
Shadows and steel, poison and guile are some of the tools an assassin needs.
Walkers of shadow and light, the invisible stalkers assassination done for the greater good.
Where assassins enemies reign it's a world of fear and pain.
It is they who commit that deadly sin to inflict so much pain the mind simply cannot take.
An assassins creed is law for assassins are a brotherhood in arms.
Written by Kelly O'Hara 5th June 2014
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 8:40 AM UTC
I want a letter written to me,
Starting with Dear and ending with my utmost affection,
I wanna be brought up during those days where guys tried,
Like not afraid to get denied,
Lets pretend the internet isn't alive,
I wanna dance ballroom style, and let a man take the lead,
I want him to pretty much just protect me,
I'm trashing all this feministic ****
Lets go back to those days when girls were respected and taken care of,
Rewind and replay the parts of Pride and Prejudice,
Or I wanna be Scarlett O'hara battling it out with Rhett,
I want a man who won't be so afraid,
Sure my face is pretty and whatnot, but why don't you say it to me?
Like grow a pair,
Grab me,
Make a move,
Don't be so **** afraid to hug me,
Please,
All I'm asking,
And I want to be dressed to the nines with ball gowns that go down to my ankles, and my hair all curled like Maria Antoinette,
Ok so maybe I've lost my mine,
But I sure wanna ride a carriage at twilight,
And have candles light the night,
Silly of me I suppose,
But still I cannot help but want those ancient times,
When men had to act right
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 11:22 AM UTC
Kabhi Kabhi to main apne aap per Has padta hu
Itna gyan prapt kar liya fir bhi
pathar ki murti samne hath jod kar khada hu
Kabhi Kabhi to main apne aap per has padta hu.
Sau chuhe to humne bhi mare,
namak dalkar bhi humne khae par
jab haj per pahunche tab pata Chala
ki vah sab to viarth tha.
Dharm aur Bhakt ki kya yah dosti badi aanokhi hai
buddhu pahla wala banata hai,
dusre wala samjhata hai ki buddhu kaise banaa hai.
Tu jise maine dekha nahin bus khali teri batay hi suni hay
To ab tu hi bata k tuj par kesay visvas Kar Lu
par tu bataee ga bhi kesay
Kabhi Kabhi to main yah sochta hu
ki agar tu na hota to kya hota ?
Agar tu hay us Ka bhram na hota to yah pakshpath na hota,
tu alag mein alag aisa mahsus na hota
insan insan ke barabar hota.
Maine suna hai ki har Kan mein hai tu
To tere liye ye ghar banane ki itni jid kyon?
Tu kya tu nahin chahta use jagah per ek bhavya vidyalay bane?
Kuch dost to mere aise bhi hai ki jab ab dharm
per vivad hota hai tu yah sunana nahin bhulate
ki unhone yah dharm granth pada hai
aur sathi sath yah bhi nahin bolate
ke tu bhi yah dharm granth pad.
Agar dharm granth padhne ke baad ahankar aata **
to vah granth na pado to behtar hai.
Vishvaas ki kai paribhashaye hai Jaise
Shaniwar ko chana, tel aur chappal
Na khaya, lagaya aur kharida jata hai.
Or jab poochho k kyon?
To uttar aisa milta hai jis per vishvaas nahin hota.
Vishvaas karo To prashn nahin,
aur prashn Karo to tumko vishvaas nahin,
yah kaisi andhvishwasi mayajaal hai
jismein ek ke liye suraj nila hi, To dusre ke liye hara hi
Aur teesra aankhen kholne ko taiyar nahin
kyunki use ine donon per VISHVAAS NAHIN.
Oct 10, 2020
Oct 10, 2020 at 4:32 AM UTC
She followed him out the front door
After his failure to give "a ****
Her lonely wail above him soared,
And he turned while she took her stand,
She tried begging him urgently,
"Rhett Butler, please don't go!
Old Ashley's gone as you can see,
And I've done what I didn't know...
Oh, Rhett, won't you come back, please?"
But he kept his word, let not even a moan
Gave no second thought to the dame,
Rode off to a life of wealth on his own...
And drove poor old Scarlet insane.
And O'Hara lived her life half crazed,
Yes, she lived but not very well...
Once you've lost at love, it's the end of your days,
And you cannot unring a cracked Southern Belle.
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 2:01 PM UTC
There are
just
some days
you
cannot
write.
Feb 10, 2014
Feb 10, 2014 at 10:16 AM UTC
Dil me liye armaan hazaro,
har ek insaan daudta hai..
Sapne pure karne ko apne,
kai baar woh rota hai..
Tanhai ke aasuo ki keemat nahi hoti,
aankhen nam kar akele, fizool hi roya main..
Pata nahi kaise,
par iss daud me jeet kar bhi hara main..
Mushkil hoti hai dagar, agar khud ke liye jeete **
dusro ke liye jeena aur bhi mushkil hota hai..
Iss raah me kabhi kisi ka saath mile,
woh saath nibhana aasaan nai hota hai..
Meri koshisho me shayad reh gayi kami koi,
jo aaj tak nahi nibha saka isss rishte ko main..
Pata nahi kaise,
par iss daud me bhi hara main..
Khud ki takleefo me shayad gum gaya zyada zara,
jo dikha nahi mujhe mushkile hoti toh sabhi ko hain..
Chizo ko suljhane chala tha,
uss raah me khud hi ulajh gaya main..
Naa mushkile kam hui aur naa takleefe door,
bas dil dukhaya sabke main..
Zindagi shayad daud nahi, par main phir bhi isme hara hu,
kisi aur ka kya kasoor, bas zindagi se hara mai..
Apr 9, 2019
Apr 9, 2019 at 6:38 PM UTC
In the morning
when you throw up water
and your skin turns a pale pale yellow
Well everyday you lose more color
Do you think that someone paints your mirror?
So you think that things sound different
at the time when you speak
Well there are visions much clearer than these blurs that you see
and like Neely O'Hara, you swallow your sleep
and wake up in the morning
to find out you are not who you used to be
You don't recognize the behavior
or the spelling of your name or the shape that is in the mirror
Well you'd swear it is not the same
and like Neely O'Hara
you swallow your sleep and you really can't remember
but you know you are not
(think you are not)
No, you are not who you used to be
May 15, 2012
May 15, 2012 at 4:29 AM UTC
Wave after wave,
I'm slowly drifting drowning in my emotions,
Weight of the world on my shoulders.
Wave after wave rolls me over hard,
I'm fighting to stay alive.
My soul has been sent out to sea,
Drifting afar distantly.
These crashing violent riptides,
Will soon turn a peaceful wave.
The ocean of emotion sometimes set us adrift.
The returning tides will bring us back into the heart of another,
A path that leads to the end of all things,
Written 14th September 2014 By Kelly O'Hara
Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 9:53 AM UTC
Reading “Poem” While Waiting for her in Peet’s Coffee
Lukewarm coffee with nothing special
in it, and my brain buzzing
with words passed through a phone.
Ah, I’d love to go back to those days
spent singing and seeing colors in cement
questions asked precariously of my life
and yours, your and my possibilities.
But staring into the beyond, I am left
disappearing quick in the cold air like the warmth of coffee left on the table.
Precariously
in love
I was caressed to the point where
my face left itself
impressioned on the pillow
I pressed into every night.
My head was clear
because it was expelled
each night into a cell phone
away from here. It reached
an ear, soft and embracing
swallowing all I pressed into it.
The indentation I left
I saw as me
held precariously
in the head
of another.
Now, head spinning,
ready to be filled with anything
stable or not, I at least remember
being held.
Poem
*Is this love, now that the first love
has finally died, where there were no impossibilities?*
I saw no impossibilities with you
held there in all I wanted. True
there was bliss, but if what they say is true,
what else is that?
I remember more color
pointed out by you,
blues and oranges in shadows on cement
reds in faces and how the sky is the only one
who can blend yellow with blue, but
now all colors are an option
for this palette
though all colors mixed
leave grey
Sep 17, 2011
Sep 17, 2011 at 6:49 AM UTC
even a week is sometimes
not enough to recuperate
from a novel -
something has borrowed too much
time and expects its worth a miracle of
a penny found on the road of
the eternal walker:
long the road toward a majesty
of the riches...
whatever novel it might be -
and with it,
a paralyzing ****** of doubts -
whether sober or intoxicated,
not even when: wine and music
and a book of poetry suffices...
just like now:
Beethoven, kalimotxo,
and the preferred gems by
Frank O'Hara to suit the music...
chez jane and blocks...
if ever there is something
missing in terms of
Beethoven: it's a voice reading
a poem,
but not reading it,
not like a Beatnik who would
read in the furore of jazz
in the past century...
anything more than what
is still not a whisper...
and like some farce of
the sword of Damocles...
the pen of Dickens...
not the labours of a novel,
no... not the month's long
journey into the labyrinth...
music and drinking
simultaneously with a novel
will never work...
but a poem can...
my god... some wine some
classical music and... words...
when there's music and wine
who needs words like
labyrinths when:
just on the tip of the hour's
passing: a bird in the form
of a poem...
all i can say in the most mundane
phrasing...
but i have capitulated
all prior to thrill and audacity
for a novel...
a month's labour:
and silence...
a soul in such hiding...
feels hardly a thought necessary
to reinvent itself in its prior
activity:
an mingling of wine
and music and words: come and go...
like all novels:
as much an accomplishment
of the writer, as an "accomplishment"
of the reader...
and is it so wrong
to not be agitated with emotion
that: a month's worth of
base arithmetic sentences -
the logic of: once upon a time
as the logic: the end...
sanctity of prose:
that sensible nature of that
sensible afternoon
of that sensible life,
of that: unlived crucifix
of a shadow's confiscate;
routine and sitting
akimbo on some far removed
stage:
of a sea knocking
on the door of earth -
seeking rhythm -
or a heart.
as mundane as this language:
i'm not going
to find a different language
to change this evening,
even though not awe:
or relief... but a paralyzing
doubt has overpowered me...
and, come to think of it:
that's still much more
than a heart's worth of
sitting's comforts in
the armchair of apathy.
Jan 16, 2019
Jan 16, 2019 at 7:25 PM UTC
Darker than the darkest shadow, standing on a razor's edge the light prevails the shadows.
Dark whispers can be heard the voices crash into silence.
Lights dwindle and flicker, the colors clash like spilt blood.
Dark diamonds flicker like fragments of soul waiting to be collected.
Dark diamonds are woven into dreams the essence remains the same.
Divided I'm constantly chasing the the light to the horizon line.
The dark ethereal the diamond in the rough and hard to touch the, The dark diamond sparkles.
Finding the truth when diamonds are legend there are greater gifts to be found. They are Brilliant with beauty but do not show much light.
Only a few can hinder what's really inside, for truth be told not many can find that knowledge and depth of endurance that a dark diamond hides.
Just like a dark diamond darkness can embed your soul,
The pressures of life have caused you to harden.
The rarest of gems at the top of the list a dark diamond will always be wanted, will always hold beauty, always be wanted.
Can never be owned or idly flaunted for dark diamonds have dark virtues.
Written by Kelly O'Hara 7th June 2014
Jun 8, 2014
Jun 8, 2014 at 1:01 PM UTC
Sometimes...
I sit here and cry,
Because it's You I Despise.
Spend every waking hour
by your side;
Hearing every I Love You and
Goodbye.
With every kiss you give,
I feel Empty and Sick...
Why do you deserve to be Loved?
When everything about You is...
Flawed.
You're an Accident,
A Disgrace.
You don't belong in this place.
Dead and gone,
Where you belong..
So My death
Do not prolong.
I Hate You...
I Hate me...
You can hate yourself...
Apparently...
Oct 25, 2017
Oct 25, 2017 at 11:38 PM UTC