I’m sorry I’m sorry
I said, Stepping in
The mental hospital
I’m not right in the head

I’ve been constantly slicing
Cutting through skin
To escape myself
To survive my ****

I wish to see your face
when they finally let me free.
I wish you would write
or call me just once

But for now, just visions of you
While I’m drowning
In my own crimson blood
Tearing
       Splitting
            Ripping
Searching for the key
To this mental prison

The nurse walks away
After haven given
Me some medication
Something to calm me

The straight jacket now
Holding me firm
They put me down
I Sit there an empty stare
  
They filled me up with drugs
keeping my head in narcotic haze.
Pill after pill all day, every day
I am broken and defeated

Paralyzed
Broken
Alone
Sitting here in a mental home.
Its been a few days inside now, i'm finally allowed some time to write and use the computer. Its cold in here, its lonely and they are constantly watching The screams at night are the worst.
Äŧül Oct 28
My Progenitor along my Father,
She loves me as if She'll take care,
Of me and my needs today & forever.

My Mother is an inspiration for me,
She has tasted success after toiling for it,
Harder in nights than in days totally.

My studies were Her priority in my school days,
She is no different in these different college days,
Never does She let her mind divert Her gaze.

My language skills, I inherited from Herself,
She taught me Hindi, English & Kannada,
I learnt and honed the Sanskrit by myself.

My German & French are elementary, but,
She never discourages me or calls my efforts,
To learn them both, with passing time, rudimentary.

My health has been Her top priority,
She ignored Her own & there was a difficulty,
Her knees gave away and needed to be replaced.

My Father loves me too but my Mother is special,
She left Her beloved Karnataka to marry my father,
Now She looks after my Father as I am alright.

I am lucky, very lucky indeed, that I have them,
She is a living legend married to Another,
This poem is more about Her and a bit about my caring father too.

My Mother taught me how to speak,
How to speak and how to live, not just once,
But along my Father, she taught it all twice.

My Mother, along my Father, defines ***,
Probably this is the case with everybody,
But few realise it when Death makes a ****.

I have seen her weeping for me when I was unwell,
Now it's my obligatory duty apart from a natural one,
Her I shall make proud along with my father, not just once but always.
A slam poem that I wrote on 25 October 2018.
Place: Exhibition Unit, National Dairy Research Institute campus, Karnal
My HP Poem #1725
©Atul Kaushal
  Oct 28 Äŧül
Heera
562
562 days,
And not even a single one
Enough to make you realise
I was worth keeping!
  Oct 26 Äŧül
Heera
Its hard to find someone,
Who loves you for the demons
Someone left you for.
I didnt know this would get so many likes.
It was just an abstract thought.
I didnt even put tags cuz didnt feel like

Thanks everyone for their love on this :)
It made to front page of HP
Äŧül Oct 19
6:30 PM 15/10/18 slam poem
"What's her name?" An excited voice whispered.
My benchmate asked me,
Just as the new girl entered,
With all her glowing ebony beauty.

I thought about something,
Ignored him and simply so,
Continuing my reading of the drama.

He prodded on like a nagging child,
"Tell me, Atul, what's her name?
Who's that **** girl?"


His whisper was loud enough now,
The girl heard it as she climbed,
Climbed higher on the back seats and how.

I glared at my benchmate,
In disappointment & disgust,
It was him who I had befriended.

'Him! I befriended him!! Out of them all!!!'
I thought about my vulnerability in our society,
But I did not react to him out of that anger.

I just said, "What's in a name?"
He raised his eyebrows and moaned, "Huh?"
I said with mirth, "Yes! Someone like you will get her renamed!"
7:00 PM
15/10/18
6:30 PM
Half-an-hour slam poem I wrote in the Literary Club at my PhD college.
A tribute to Nirbhaya and women safety all around the globe.
7:00 PM

My HP Poem #1724
©Atul Kaushal
Äŧül Sep 29
I do not want to pile on,
But I am in sweet pain,
Just below the belt...

Pain due to nervousness,
My dad was unwell,
He got successfully operated...

He's my dear guardian Angel,
Sustained injury whilst protecting me,
I escaped with minor gashes.

He's undoubtedly the best father,
There may be any trouble on me,
But he's always standing on guard.

I strive to make my father feel proud,
And though I often fail to make him feel so,
I shall not give up hope that I shall make him feel proud.

Right now,
I am in pain,
I am unable to urinate.

But this pain is bearable,
I shall now help him recover,
My life is his blessings all over.
Maybe due to the subconscious tension about my father's recent surgery, I am unable to urinate after the morning bath but it will be alright.

Nothing scares me after my tete-a-tete with death for the 28 days in the comatose state and then the utterly painful but necessary physiotherapy. These bothersome little troubles are not something that I should be worried about now.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/aw/B00MYY0DMA

My HP Poem #1723
©Atul Kaushal
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