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"nikita" poems
The truth is this: every monster you have met or will ever meet was once a human being with a soul that was as soft and light as silk Someone stole that silk from their soul and turned them into this So when you see a monster next always remember do not fear the thing before you fear the thing that created it instead. -NIKITA GILL
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Nov 16, 2017
Nov 16, 2017 at 1:44 AM UTC
The Truth About Monsters (Nikita Gill)
My name is Nikita I am 19 I was 6 when he ***** me my sister was 3 I was 7 when I realized I'm human I was 10 when he killed my dog in front of me I was 12 when he played strip poker with me I was 13 when he attempted suicide 3pm, in the next room I was 14 when I leaned out the ledge of a bridge Fast forward to 19 I'm alive I'm safe I'm strong
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Jul 26, 2018
Jul 26, 2018 at 9:28 AM UTC
This isn't me
Behold my Praise, Lively-Lady, Behold! This is a Fact I can always ensure For if my Ego pretends to be cold I deserve to be in Prison verily. I'm sorry for such Lame Words, dearest Belle The Artist here has a Duty to Live For if the Master confiscates my Pen How else should my English Rose Concerns give? I knew you only through the Tweets you speak That for me is enough to wear this Faith For within your Vase sprouts a Promised Seed Which flows Sweet Mustard to poison the Wraith. If Questions you ask, that will add to One And in your Friendship let your Will be done.
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Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 12:59 AM UTC
SONNET TRIBUTE: NIKITA ROSS
I don't think anything I don't speak or write Never mention the silence that this void leaves behind and no one sees that behind my eyes because deception is brutal though some people aren't killed never even fooled (such a pity) **** them all** I stare at you all my circle of friends that I- (*or **** yourself*) and feel nothing for these blurs of people They look familiar. Thank god for the idiots that- no hand prints by passing strangers the Russian palm on the back of my neck Eugine, Nikita, big boys, big big big big big big with big ***** and strong hands and broad shoulders (look away) god bless the ********** that buy you  gin and there's this miracle in the form of something lyrical runs like water tastes like liquor I love the lyrical melody of being so ****** off your **** face, *** whatever you wanna call it- drunk. I'm soberly contemplating switching the feelings off Oh how it works nothing but irises and going back home and kittens you don't bother to save-from the streets they all die anyway. its a grown up kind of feeling (silly) Laughter doesn't ring the same way you bash skulls against the wall On Leo's drum kit and you swear his eyes are a deeper purple than the shade of your hurt you don't care cant find it in you to care we are the same you see we dispose of those we need nothing of so its okay I guess I can judge you anyway though nothing nothing nothing no feeling "the contours of your face as mysterious as the scars that lined your hands" left a place back there as cold as daddy's coffin they don't tell you that sometimes you hold onto a little bit of childhood, like laughing at people falling on their ***** now protect us against that kind of crass humour Ill pretend to care -but you'll see that I really don't the restless way my knee jumps like your heartbeat and eyes that swim over walls and faces like a ski slope left too many bruises were all going down and I just don't care any-more.
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Jul 2, 2012
Jul 2, 2012 at 1:51 PM UTC
Look it, mom! No hands.
I don't think anything I don't speak or write Never mention the silence that this void leaves behind and no one sees that behind my eyes because deception is brutal though some people aren't killed never even fooled (such a pity) **** them all** I stare at you all my circle of friends that I- (*or **** yourself*) and feel nothing for these blurs of people They look familiar. Thank god for the idiots that- no hand prints by passing strangers the Russian palm on the back of my neck Eugine, Nikita, big boys, big big big big big big with big ***** and strong hands and broad shoulders (look away) god bless the ********** that buy you  gin and there's this miracle in the form of something lyrical runs like water tastes like liquor I love the lyrical melody of being so ****** off your **** face, *** whatever you wanna call it- drunk. I'm soberly contemplating switching the feelings off Oh how it works nothing but irises and going back home and kittens you don't bother to save-from the streets they all die anyway. its a grown up kind of feeling (silly) Laughter doesn't ring the same way you bash skulls against the wall On Leo's drum kit and you swear his eyes are a deeper purple than the shade of your hurt you don't care cant find it in you to care we are the same you see we dispose of those we need nothing of so its okay I guess I can judge you anyway though nothing nothing nothing no feeling "the contours of your face as mysterious as the scars that lined your hands" left a place back there as cold as daddy's coffin they don't tell you that sometimes you hold onto a little bit of childhood, like laughing at people falling on their ***** now protect us against that kind of crass humour Ill pretend to care -but you'll see that I really don't the restless way my knee jumps like your heartbeat and eyes that swim over walls and faces like a ski slope left too many bruises were all going down and I just don't care any-more.
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63
sms krne ke fayde 1.mai bhi khush 2.jise bheja wo bhi khush 3.yado ka silsla bna rhta hai 4.kon kanjus hai wo bhi pta chal jata hai :-)
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Dec 25, 2013
Dec 25, 2013 at 2:56 AM UTC
nikita friendship
She is as beautiful as butterflies in Spring Her hair flutters in the breeze; a gentle sneeze from the soft blowing winds She is beautiful; she is ... Her skin glows golden like daffodils at summers end and just as flowers often do, she blooms In a world of trampled black and white weeds, she truly is as beautiful as butterflies in Spring *to my beautiful neice Nikita
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Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 3:19 PM UTC
as beautiful as butterflies in spring
"This is the end, my friend…" Take refuge in the Golden Years. Retire to an inevitable monastery plopped on a suburban mountaintop. Immerse yourself in the lost writings of Nikita Khrushchev and Harry S Truman. Learn to cook gizzards and meditate. Find solace in obsolete atomic weapons, enlightenment in the raw, butchered expressions of the naked thermonuclear. Wangle, ****** fire, and maneuver. Get in touch with your inner Eichmann. Devour baskets of tasty deplorables. Stop clinging to guns and religion. Love the fascism of the ordinary. Become content with mere content. Stop waving daggers at the innocent. Wash yourself in the blood of the lamb. Accept that Woodstock was futile. Admit you can’t get no satisfaction. Penetrate the goddess of unreason, and come screaming to your senses. Declare the dawn of the Age of Onanism. Keep your fingers out of Pandora's box. Bid farewell to the ghost of Joe Hill. Depart the smothering, smooth life of lust, corn flakes, and competition. Expand your mind in a mushroom cloud. Travel upriver to the ****** of Darkness, legendary source of honeyed generation. Attain new heights of perfect despair. Discover the latent bliss of cassowaries, rooted in their strong disdain for kale. Play poker with the spirits of the dead. These are your days of lucky revelation. Lick magic frogs and witness lost dreams. Arrive at the perfect wisdom of what is. Everything and nothing, just what it seems.
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Apr 6, 2018
Apr 6, 2018 at 5:15 AM UTC
Senior Bucket List
Cinderella did not teach me stand up against the wrong. She did not teach me to be strong. Katniss Everdeen did. Aurora did not teach me that I don't need a man. She did not teach me I am independent just as I am. Cleopatra did. Snow white did not teach me that real beauty has nothing to do with physical appearance. She didn't teach me self love or acceptance. Winnie Harlow did. Ariel did not teach me to resist and fight. She didn't teach me to raise my voice for what is right. Malala did. Ashley Graham gave me confidence. Michelle Obama gave me inspiration. Tris Prior taught me sacrifice. Hermoine Granger showed me it's not only boys who can fight. Nikita Gill taught me I am enough even without a man. Joan of Arc showed me I can do anything he can. Let's read to our girls stories of such badass, incredible, fierce and confident women. Instead of stories where they are painted weak and can't do without men. Let us teach them that they are powerful, they are strong. And anyone who tells them different is wrong. Let's read them stories of brave, heroic women instead of ones where they are shown weak and helpless. Let's teach them to be warriors and not some princess.
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Oct 5, 2019
Oct 5, 2019 at 7:08 AM UTC
warriors.
I was angry. ****** I ran from the beach. I held my towel and sweater. My glasses were foggy. I couldn't see anything. I pulled them off and clenched them in my fist. I flew over the bridge and tore through the woods. My flashlight beam was slow Wavering. I ran tripped jumped panted scraped screamed flew up the stairs. I was angry. ****** Why couldn't they leave me alone. Up the stairs. Rocks Sticks Bumps ******* sharp things Leaves. The lights of the house glowed up ahead. Bright. Too bright. Like my grandma. I ran to them. Around the house. Through the door. Bright greeted me. Are you going in the sauna? Why the **** do we HAVE a sauna!!!!! We're in the middle of nowhere We swim in a lake We drive an hour To get to the closest town And yet we have a SAUNA No. I'm not going in. I'm already steaming. Even though I'm steaming A *** boiling over She SMILES ******* SMILES Why are you SMILING? So you're just fine like that? Slam. Slam the door. Goodbye. No more. I'm crying. Hot tears over my cold body. My nose hurts. I cry and cry. But no one hears me. He's in the next room And he doesn't hear me. They're still at the beach. I hear them And they don't hear me. I sit on the floor. I ignore the wet spot I'm making on the stupid grey rug. I pull my wet towel to me. I haven't dried off yet. I don't. I don't care. I stand up. I stop crying and pull my towel over my head. It is dark. I stand there. And then I walk. Through the room Bumping into beds and walls. I am nothing. Nothingness itself. I see no one And no one sees me. I can't see. I can't see. I hear my name over and over. What is that? Nothing. What did you say? Nothing. What do you want? Nothing. Yeah right. What's up? Nothing. Sure. Nothing. The word one uses when we cannot speak. I stop being nothing and take off the towel. I am not nothing. I am Nikita. I am crying again. I hear them coming up the stairs outside. I gather my clothes and put on my glasses. Still foggy. I take them off. I leave the room. Are you heading to the sauna? No. I go to the bathroom. STOP SAYING MY NAME I DON'T WANT DESSERT I DON'T WANT CHOCOLATE CAKE I'm crying again.
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Aug 27, 2013
Aug 27, 2013 at 9:08 PM UTC
Everything's Fine
I was angry. ****** I ran from the beach. I held my towel and sweater. My glasses were foggy. I couldn't see anything. I pulled them off and clenched them in my fist. I flew over the bridge and tore through the woods. My flashlight beam was slow Wavering. I ran tripped jumped panted scraped screamed flew up the stairs. I was angry. ****** Why couldn't they leave me alone. Up the stairs. Rocks Sticks Bumps ******* sharp things Leaves. The lights of the house glowed up ahead. Bright. Too bright. Like my grandma. I ran to them. Around the house. Through the door. Bright greeted me. Are you going in the sauna? Why the **** do we HAVE a sauna!!!!! We're in the middle of nowhere We swim in a lake We drive an hour To get to the closest town And yet we have a SAUNA No. I'm not going in. I'm already steaming. Even though I'm steaming A *** boiling over She SMILES ******* SMILES Why are you SMILING? So you're just fine like that? Slam. Slam the door. Goodbye. No more. I'm crying. Hot tears over my cold body. My nose hurts. I cry and cry. But no one hears me. He's in the next room And he doesn't hear me. They're still at the beach. I hear them And they don't hear me. I sit on the floor. I ignore the wet spot I'm making on the stupid grey rug. I pull my wet towel to me. I haven't dried off yet. I don't. I don't care. I stand up. I stop crying and pull my towel over my head. It is dark. I stand there. And then I walk. Through the room Bumping into beds and walls. I am nothing. Nothingness itself. I see no one And no one sees me. I can't see. I can't see. I hear my name over and over. What is that? Nothing. What did you say? Nothing. What do you want? Nothing. Yeah right. What's up? Nothing. Sure. Nothing. The word one uses when we cannot speak. I stop being nothing and take off the towel. I am not nothing. I am Nikita. I am crying again. I hear them coming up the stairs outside. I gather my clothes and put on my glasses. Still foggy. I take them off. I leave the room. Are you heading to the sauna? No. I go to the bathroom. STOP SAYING MY NAME I DON'T WANT DESSERT I DON'T WANT CHOCOLATE CAKE I'm crying again.
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109
Life always hurt you, No one is yours, go ahead No one will love you No one will support you No one will make you happy No one will help you overcome your failure Be strong enough to handle all these things Be strong enough to trust anyone Be strong enough to trust yourself Be strong enough to let him go Wake up girl its your turn Wake up rise and shine again Wake up you are different from others Wake up make the sun more burn You are that's why your personality is Go ahead you can do it You are sunshine of yourself be proud of it You are the queen of your crown                                                                     -NIKITA
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Mar 20, 2021
Mar 20, 2021 at 11:14 PM UTC
Way of life
it is eerily terrifying that there is no sound when a heart breaks. car accidents end with a bang, falling ends with a thud, even writing makes the scratching sound of pencil against paper. but the sound of a heart breaking is completely silent. almost as though no one, not even the universe itself could create a sound for such devastation. almost as though silence is the only way the universe could pay its respect to the sound of a heart falling apart.
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Nov 3, 2016
Nov 3, 2016 at 6:47 AM UTC
—nikita gill
a sunflower smile on this windy sunny day with hope of some rain
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Sep 16, 2019
Sep 16, 2019 at 1:07 PM UTC
The hope of a sunflower - for Nikita
"Let’s set the record straight. There is no argument over the choice between peace and war, but there is only one guaranteed way you can have peace and you can have it in the next second, “surrender.” Admittedly there is a risk in any course we follow other than this, but every lesson in history tells us that the greater risk lies in appeasement, and this is the specter our well-meaning liberal friends refuse to face that their policy of accommodation is appeasement, and it gives no choice between peace and war, only between fight or surrender. If we continue to accommodate, continue to back and retreat, then eventually we have to face the final demand “the ultimatum.” And what then? When Nikita Khrushchev has told his people he knows what our answer will be? He has told them that we are retreating under the pressure of the Cold War, and someday when the time comes to deliver the final ultimatum, our surrender will be voluntary because by that time we will have weakened from within spiritually, morally, and economically. He believes this because from our side he has heard voices pleading for peace at any price or better Red than dead, or as one commentator put it, he would rather live on his knees than die on his feet. And therein lies the road to war, because those voices don’t speak for the rest of us. You and I know and do not believe that life is so dear and peace so sweet as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery. If nothing in life is worth dying for, when did this begin just in the face of this enemy? Or should Moses have told the children of Israel to live in slavery under the pharaohs? Should Christ have refused the cross? Should the patriots at Concord Bridge have thrown down their guns and refused to fire the shot heard round the world? The martyrs of history were not fools, and our honored dead who gave their lives to stop the advance of the Nazis didn’t die in vain. Where, then, is the road to peace? Well, it’s a simple answer after all. You and I have the courage to say to our enemies. There is a price we will not pay. There is a point beyond which they must not advance. Winston Churchill said that the destiny of man is not measured by material computation. When great forces are on the move in the world, we learn we are spirits not animals. And he said, “There is something going on in time and space, and beyond time and space, which, whether we like it or not, spells duty.” You and I have a rendezvous with destiny. We will preserve for our children this, the last best hope of man on Earth, or we will sentence them to take the last step into a thousand years of darkness." - President Ronald Reagan
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Jun 18, 2018
Jun 18, 2018 at 10:05 AM UTC
We Must Fight
"Let’s set the record straight. There is no argument over the choice between peace and war, but there is only one guaranteed way you can have peace and you can have it in the next second, “surrender.” Admittedly there is a risk in any course we follow other than this, but every lesson in history tells us that the greater risk lies in appeasement, and this is the specter our well-meaning liberal friends refuse to face that their policy of accommodation is appeasement, and it gives no choice between peace and war, only between fight or surrender. If we continue to accommodate, continue to back and retreat, then eventually we have to face the final demand “the ultimatum.” And what then? When Nikita Khrushchev has told his people he knows what our answer will be? He has told them that we are retreating under the pressure of the Cold War, and someday when the time comes to deliver the final ultimatum, our surrender will be voluntary because by that time we will have weakened from within spiritually, morally, and economically. He believes this because from our side he has heard voices pleading for peace at any price or better Red than dead, or as one commentator put it, he would rather live on his knees than die on his feet. And therein lies the road to war, because those voices don’t speak for the rest of us. You and I know and do not believe that life is so dear and peace so sweet as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery. If nothing in life is worth dying for, when did this begin just in the face of this enemy? Or should Moses have told the children of Israel to live in slavery under the pharaohs? Should Christ have refused the cross? Should the patriots at Concord Bridge have thrown down their guns and refused to fire the shot heard round the world? The martyrs of history were not fools, and our honored dead who gave their lives to stop the advance of the Nazis didn’t die in vain. Where, then, is the road to peace? Well, it’s a simple answer after all. You and I have the courage to say to our enemies. There is a price we will not pay. There is a point beyond which they must not advance. Winston Churchill said that the destiny of man is not measured by material computation. When great forces are on the move in the world, we learn we are spirits not animals. And he said, “There is something going on in time and space, and beyond time and space, which, whether we like it or not, spells duty.” You and I have a rendezvous with destiny. We will preserve for our children this, the last best hope of man on Earth, or we will sentence them to take the last step into a thousand years of darkness." - President Ronald Reagan
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Carmen, Bolton, Lama, Sophie, Timothy,ScriptedSilence. Amanda, Richard,Lily, Keith, Divine,Elle,Laura, Cne. Sarah, Kim,Sobberingsoul, Frank,Jason, Traveler,Fran. Moonlight,Jules, AB,Lovelyn,Beautifully Broken,Ranveer. Fearless, Iz,BD,Neha,Selina,Shaina,Maddy, Mack,John. Godson1,Joseph,Jay, Poetress,Claryt,Fecundeity,Abraham. Loser,ymmiJ,Osiria,Tony,Erian,Hanna,Elena,Empire, Mellow. Grace, Joyce, Deep, Sassy,Jen, Untold,Nikita, Word,Suzy. There are many more but heres a few more Great poets too.
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Sep 11, 2019
Sep 11, 2019 at 10:06 AM UTC
Hellopoetry2