3rd year law undergrad. The world starts at coffee and ends at music. Playing drums for 7 years.
diablo-3-tyreal-arch-angel
Poetry Top

You

‘Tis sought and opined by these eyes and lips. Love and its candidature, You of divine stature. ‘Twixt man and less a primal quenching of lust ‘midst a jumble of mess; is transcendence of flesh. Fury of Hell, Angel of Heaven, I, brave and fool to be; rejecting Evil and Godly pleas. For home is where the heart beckons me, I, your shadow, am on Earth. For when has ash ever left the hearth?

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Entity-Unknown
Literature Optimism Poetry Top

Entity Unknown

When  silence and darkness fall, night. The Unknown under the bed does crawl. The lights snuffed and switched, off. The Entity‘s forms twitch. Under fatal delusion, waiting. A black mass of sheer illusion. Whirling in self maintained, confinement. Matter scrambled, yet contained. An Entity of some proportion, considerable. Unknown, it stalks with devotion. Listen not, too carefully, at moments, dark. lest you wish to hear it’s laments. Oh how it cries, the weep, haunting. Ice in the veins to keep. Beyond doubt, of any sort, believe. The Entity, it’s patience, not short. It dwells, it dwells, resolute. On fear it thrives and swells. A call! Christ,Allah, God! futile.

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elevator-rules
Generation Y Human Resource Poem Top Workforce

Corporate Junkie

Panasonic and Sony beeping in custom made Reid & Taylor pockets. A trade for a Rolex throned on his wrist in place of once existent dreams, in now hollow sockets. Adrenaline pumping before high stakes meetings and brunches. Calculating the dose of his choice of drug, penthouse suites and timeline crunches. Dizzy with ambition, painting cocaine bleached canvasses. Narcissistic laughter aimed to beguile others, he, for whom his relaxants are stresses. Dealing with the Devil himself, power tainted and ill-gotten, the realization that humans are not beyond sale; in markets, mergers and acquisitions. Recessions, Inflations, cruel overdoses of risk, of danger unspoken. And when he surfaces

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Castello_valentino_fronte
Democracy Life Literature Poetry

The Baron’s Manor

IThe Baron owned,All that was upon the moor.He summoned the nobles,To his Manor for a tour.Some came in twos,While others arrived in ones.But all came forth,To attend the Baron’s ballroom dance.Ushered in, by servants,Away from the cold’s kiss.Inside, hot as a beast’s maw,Chill from spines to warmth did transit.Tapestries hung,Calling for their pathos.Heavy as sleepless eyelids,Depicting war, victories and chaos.Arched ceiling and stairways,A gargoyle here and a golem there.Musty yet polished, the light shone,On the statues’ head with no hair.The Baron led the way,Boasting of the Opus Francigenum.The guests savoured in delight,Every word and each tenor.The Manor De Baptiste,Sprawling from outside.The greatest

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