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None of the guys
ever asked me out
they teased me
or just froze me out

I wasn’t stuck up
I was shy
I came from China
that is why

I didn’t know the styles and trends
or even where I should begin
there wasn’t much that I could say
I never talked much anyway..

so I sat there
and read

I was an incredibly
epic fail

To all the guys
who called me names
that tagged my locker
and tried to shame me

I wasn’t snooty
I was shy
I’d just come from China
that’s the why

I didn’t know the styles and trends
that let a new girl fit in
I’d never even used the Internet
I was as lost-in sauce as a girl gets..

so I sat there
and read

Which eventually
got me into Yale.

.
.
Songs for this:
*Conversation by X-Cetra
Simply Couldn't Care by Tracey Thorn
Human Behaviour by Björk
*A poem from 9th grade (2019)
**  We’d moved back to the US from China so I could have a ‘normal’ high schooling.
*** I added the last two lines
.
lost-in-sauce = clueless
Mastmaula - The happy go lucky little turtle

On the beaches of Konkan
Lived a few families of turtles
For ages it has been their home .

Amongst them lived Mastmaula a young and adventurous turtle
To explore the surroundings he loved, popular and lovable , a friend to all .
Many a times he would stray away and had to be fetched by the elders in the group .

He loved visiting  the homes of the fishermen who lived by the sea.
Particularly fond of cabbage fed by the fisherwomen .

Amusingly he was also fond of music .
And loved to dance

The fishermen went fishing by the day
And would celebrate  the catch and their life by evenings .
Music played  and seafood savoured in almost every home.

Mastmaula was sure to visit, the fisherman 's house when there used to be a party.
One of the evenings , there was one going on in one of the houses , music was loud with party lights on.
And ,the food yes cabbage in colours, purple and green ,
Mastmaula knew would sure be part of the menu.

The fisherman's family had guests coming from afar
The occasion , an engagement ceremony .
As the music went on , Mastmaula went turtle and began to spin.
And sure he did have a few amazing moves , which caught the guests' eyes
And one of them ,fancied  carrying Mastmaula to their home.
The host opposed but the guest's  7 year old daughter Mili loved Mastmaula and wanted him to be part of her family . The host reluctantly obliged.

Soon , it was dark and a bale of turtles were out to fetch back Mastmaula home. They knew where to  find him.
Reaching the party venue and not finding him there they panicked and soon swelled in numbers.

The fishermen family knew it was time to call their guest ,who had taken away  Mastmaula .
The guest hurriedly came back with Mastmaula in a little basket and placed him down .
Mastmaula was overjoyed to reunite with his family and promised them all that he would never stray away and be careful of his visits alone to the fishermens homes.
Have always told self invented bed time stories to my boys .
My older son , Amitabh has been fond of 'The Hare and the Tortoise' since he was a toddler , have told him many , cause he always to listen to a new version .
Last night came up with this story of a young turtle .
I haven't ever written any story so far . This is the first that I have documented and so thought of sharing here on HP.

My mother tongue /Native language is Hindi .
Narrated the boys this story in Hindi .

MastMaula means -Happy go Lucky

Dedicated to both my sons , Amitabh and Anshul  :)
Thank you all for reading
Sacrament of an autumn park:
yellow wafers on green tongue,
blowsy refrains of early dark.
Head spilling and heart sprung,
I step across these broken shields
to a new-faced evening street
under clouds with bruisy weals
that peel, reveal white meat
of moon, sliced thin to eat
& maybe sate a null that gnaws,
a null that was born when I was:
a branch is incomplete
until the last leaf falls,
transfigured into scrawl.
ABAB CDCD DEED FF
The artistic mind, a fragile fickle beast
one is never sure of its morning temper,
sometimes savage, full of ire and broken glass
spitting **** and vinegar at all who pass
in a world which cannot understand,
the sheer fustration of creation,
at others more content to let things sit a while,
to smile and wait for the muse to rise
it is forever fearful, of losing any inspiration it has gained
worrying it may be forever chained
never allowed to roam,
hoping that it might return
not to spurn the feelings we lay bare
but to give us hope
and then to help us cope
with whatever wild and brooding notion we have hiding there
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                      Beowulf Presents Himself for a Job Interview


Their leader answered him, Beowulf unlocking
Words from deep in his breast:
                                        We are Geats.
Men who follow Higlac. My Father
Was a famous soldier, known far and wide…

                               -Beowulf, Burton Raffel translation

Nahhhhhhhhh. Scratch that. Manly language is, like, y’know, old school. Let’s

make it

come alive

for 2025:

Don’t you people know who I AM?! I am a highly motivated people person who enjoys challenging tired old conventions and sourcing creatively from a renewable multiplicity of supply chain resources and a multi-cultural, multi-lingual workforce nourished in a milieu of something or other no one is above the law jaw-dropping when I ax a former employee it’s with a real ax I like scented candles, long walks on the beach, meeting new people and killing them B.O.G.O iconic I’m beyond a people person tell me you’re a Democrat Republican Liberal without telling me you’re a Democrat Republican Liberal ***! transparency so like here are my pronouns Me. My. Mine. Warrior ethos only louder ‘cause I never even made the first day of recruit training Make Geatland Great Again Geatland for the Geats Geatland First no one understands my special needs Grendel and I have a complicated relationship which you wouldn’t understand Hrothgar Is Always Right until I disappear him and take over the chairmanship of Denmark how’d you like to have a funny name like Higlac and I’m proud to be a Geatlander my armor is by Hugo Boss my sandals by Ferragamo Learn. To. Code. cue an allusion to some metaphorical playbook in 3, 2, 1 my Big Beautiful branded Napa Valley wine from my podcast, Love ‘N’ Smackdowns from your Big Beautiful Beowulf shocking jaw-dropping mike drop of biblical proportions detail-oriented, self-motivated results-driven references available upon request team player fast-learning goal-oriented think outside the box track record go-to person win-win dynamic synergy going forward from this point in time servant leader proactive strategic thinker my secret for thinning hair dropped today weaponize crypto authentic empowered seeking closure chatgpt paved the way with the key that unlocks the future glass ceiling lawfair A.I.  like my body art?

Buy my book. Buy ads on my ‘blog. Buy my stuff.
Swirling
Together
A magical, impossible dance
In unseen wind
Just for them
Reminding me
To breathe
Don’t you know
That every cruel word
Every emotional blow
Every undeserved punishment
Every failure to take any semblance of responsibility
Just drives me one step closer to leaving

Don’t you know
That this roller coaster
Of love and abuse
Is what destroyed her in the first place
Destroyed the daughter too beautiful for this terrible world
And created me
A monster
Who refused to refer to myself as your child
Created to be vicious
Created to survive
What she couldn’t

Don’t you know
You almost killed her
You’ll never get her back
You can’t have me either
As soon as it’s time
I’ll be gone

Don’t you know
By the time you realize
You failed
It will be too late
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                     An Anteroom to Eternity?

                         (Nigdaw in Essex said it much better)

Waiting in the E.R.
More waiting in the E.R.
     The pain is back
Waiting in a corridor as people walk by
     and look at you
Waiting in another corridor, gasping hello to
     a curious, wide-eyed child
Someone gives you an injection
Waiting in yet another corridor
Pushed into a room
     "Oh, wait, it's not ready..."
Pushed back into a corridor
Wait…
The hours...the hours...


Note: my experience with health care professionals, from the nice young man who brings the meal trays to the great physicians, is uniformly wonderful and I am most grateful to them. The – THE – problem is the corporatism that now rules even nominally religious hospitals with the clawing, grasping hands and narrow minds of Scrooges. Administrators and stockholders will cut work hours and understaff units if only a poor dollar, rather than a poor human, is saved.
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