shirtless screaming through
the heartland and I used
to smoke cigarettes
too.

she never wanted
to stay: the youth
she had
left demanded it.
now, I'll wager
she's somewhere
in an apartment with
some dandy that
wears sweater vests
to Thanksgiving dinner.

maybe she thinks
about me and my little
twisted heart every
now and again:
like when she's away
from the sweater vest
on the toilet
behind a locked door,
"be right out, babe!"
or toting groceries
through a parking lot
to her car,
or signaling a
left turn before
changing her mind
and deciding to
go straight instead.

and
maybe I need to
stop thinking
about her
especially after
three years
incommunicado

but what can I say?
I've never slept on
a bed of nails
I couldn't
dream on.

if evil is a strong word,

then so is kind.

She said "I'm falling in love."

I said "I'm falling apart."

I am a fly
attracted to your nacreous glow.

                                           Just swat me already.

there are two types of sadness

there’s the kind of sadness
we ignore and
try to get rid of it
by finding new things to do
or we find someone to talk to
by blatantly avoiding any type of conversation
about feeling sad
about having any feelings at all
and then there’s that kind of sadness
that takes over
and it consumes any activity we do
we know it’s there
and there’s no possible way to avoid it
so we feed it exactly what it wants
it craves the sad music
it craves the isolation
it craves the anxiousness
and the sadness comes storming in
it has no manners
here we are calling sadness, an “it”
when all it is
is a feeling
that most people
call home

I Saw The Psychedelic Lights ☮️

It came through in music
As well as in song
C’mon People Now
Let’s all get along

Love, Peace and Happiness
Was what we did preach
It was our Trinity ☮️
Our core belief

There was Dylan, Baez
And MLK
Apostles of peace
With something to say

And...
All We Are Saying
Is Give Peace A Chance
Oh...
Let It Be
Our glorious chant

By: Bill MacEachern
02/27/21

it's like the ocean is bringing me in the sadness
in the car otw to risk myself
feeling a tint of sadness while being tipsy
it's me that decides
don't know how it will turn out
worst or whatever

It's 11:11
and for the first time
after a very long time
I'm wishing for myself
and not for you

The fear of death follows the fear of life.
The fundamental nature of knowledge, reality, and existence.
Would one be ready when the bittersweet death arrives,
The deafening silence and the danger of the mind and its insistence.

The twists and turns to envelop the philosophy of life can make one glad or mad.
Like what “success” means, what one’s purpose in life is.
How to decide on what is “good” and bad”.
Questions as old as time where the philosophy of life takes such bliss.

The philosophy of life takes the meaning of life into account.
The aspect of existence that processes, acts, reacts, and evolves through growth.
The real reason one would get up in the morning fills no amount
A void that fills the philosophy of life is what’s keeping death and life betrothed.

As I sat on my bed
On a gloomy evening
Listening to the soft Yet sonorous sound of falling raindrops
Looking Outside of the window
Unexpectedly
I gazed upon a dainty figure that was approaching towards me
I sat there confused
Thinking whether it was you or visions playing inside my head
I blinked, and You faded away with the raindrops As they splashed
I smiled in the midst of realizing
I was a fool Thinking I was in serendipity
While My memories were getting the better of me.

You are not the love of my life,
You are the life of my love ❤️

I fell down three flights of stairs
But that wasn’t a bad trip
Compared to where I was last night.

Exiled to dusk,
Fractions of the sun
Begin to lift away,
In concealment
We shudder,
Casting our reels
Into a pond of uncertainty,
Clock hands bend
With advancing shadow,
And speak of time
Only in past tense,
I so want everything
I ever felt for you
Preserved for posterity,
Even should forever
Be far less than
We imagined.

i think that the most damaged people in the world
are the kindest
and the softest

because they know
that scabs can be picked
and you can bleed

If someone makes you happy,
make them happier,

even at the cost of you happiness.

Let love heal you
Heal you of your past
Let love help you
Help you to trust

Let love give you
Give you his grace
Let love teach you
Teach you his ways

Let love lead you
Lead you to his plan
Let love make you
Make you a better man

German shepherd rests,
dreams of sheep on rainbow road.
Fun, love, jumps fences.

The desire to disappear, in the middle of nowhere,
When it all seems so unclear,
Faith, fate, love, lust,
Words that define so much still can't carry their own weight,
So I pack my bags, but I let them empty,
I'm afraid I'll have too much to collect on the way,
Yet there's not enough space,
So I leave them behind, like a sweet memory of what could have been;

In the deep corners of 3am,
I find her.

your name is
forbidden in
my mouth
or in my heart
because when
i think about
you;

i'll cry a little more,
hurt a little stronger
love a little softer
because you no longer
make me feel sober

i'm drunk on the
memory of you

The emptiness in my eyes,
The truth behind my lies,
The fall before my rise,
And the goodbyes;

It scares me.

The dark beneath my skin,
The light within my sins,
The voice that loudly sings,
And my broken wings;

It scares me.

The wounds I can't heal,
The pain I can't feel,
The loss I can't deal,
And when I am real;

It scares me.

The silence in my little talks,
The stillness in my moonlit walks,
The thought of separate ways,
And my numbered days;

It scares me.

The demons under my bed,
The words spinning in my head,
The blood in my sweat,
And my cold breath;

It scares me.

-Paras Bajaj #PoetrybyParas
Instagram : @mr.parasbajaj

If you could read my mind,
You’d see a thousand papers
Filled with broken poetries
And deadbeat proses
Full of woeful verses
With mournful pieces
Of unfinished stories
That are yet to be written
And failed to be spoken;
If you could read my mind,
You’d hear horrible screams
And earsplitting weeps
From shattered dreams,
Kept in a nasty notepad,
Scribbled on a bed
Of bloodstained words,
Ringing in my head.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the shadows
That lurk within me;
You’d hear the bellows,
Screeching the words
“I’m tired,”
“I’m a failure,”
“I’m stupid –”
I know it sounds stupid,
It’s pathetically foolish
And seems like *******.
If you could read my mind,
You’d feel the tears
I had ever failed to cry;
You’d see the people
That make the weak weaker;
You’d see the monsters
That consume my head;
You’d hear the hollers
That failed to be freed;
You’d see the heart
That still bleeds and bleeds.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the face
I’ve failed to show back then,
The face I’ve faked back then.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see a character
I had ever failed to become
If you could read my mind,
You’d be able to read
A book you never wished
To touch and read,
But sometimes I still wish
Someone could read my mind.

I love him
I tell myself
I know that
We will be together forever
I don’t believe that
We could be separated
My thoughts tell me that
He’s the love of my life
Sometimes my heart lies and says
I could live an eternity
Without him
Like my friends say
“We’re perfect for each other”
And you can’t tell me
He’s not the one.

Now read from bottom to top.

Parents bark, bite, and blame.

I raise my earphones' volume so high, that I don't hear my pain.

you don't see my cracks
but that doesn't make me whole

He punched me last week
And told me that he was joking and that's between me and him
My friends saw and helped me break it off yesterday
Today is my eighteenth birthday
And I am nothing like my mother

The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.

your words are an invitation.
i eat them off my plate
and when i swallow they become
indistinguishable from my own.

i recognize what i already knew.
we are permeable.

still i wear this cage of white bars
across my chest.
24 pieces of armour.
an illusion that reveals the work i need to do.

if i pry and break them,
one by one,
will my heart finally surface
and rejoin you?

The hurt may go away
but your memory will
forever rest in my soul.