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An occasional wooden jab meant to inspire footsteps.
But I'm numb now and the pain slips between the folds of my thoughts.
(An ephemeral thunder clap in the distance.)
Even the sounds surrounding me become a nearly inaudible murmur from some far off place.
Women weeping, children crying, false promises of hope from men who have lost the light of such ideas from their eyes.
(Thunder, sudden and fleeting.)
The paths we walked as children in better times now so unfamiliar.
Turned to mud by tears and stained with blood.
With waking eyes I see a thousand memories unfold before me in lucidity belying such verisimilitude that for a moment I feign to question the corporeal nature of these apparitions.
(The transient thunder again rings out.)
I involuntarily breathe deep the smells lingering on the crisp air of an autumn morning.
The smell of earth reminiscent of spring in the countryside.
A tenuous fog clings to the air, drifting in silence.
An acrid smell like smoke from a match pulls me from my reverie.
Solemn faces hastily filling a long shallow trench.
My thoughts grow quiet.
Led to the edge and forced to kneel.
Peering into the wretched abyss I see them.
The tortured faces of everyone I'll ever know.
Bodies contorted, sticking up from the dirt like discarded mannequins.
(Thunder.)
It's so quiet now.
Like a candle snuffed out under brass.
It's so quiet
 Oct 2017 Nico Julleza
Persephone
black cats
feathers blowing
trees are down
there is an emptiness
in the air
all around
how many times have i said
“i just want to be beautiful”
how many different meanings
have protruded from my lips
as i said those words
“i just want to be beautiful”
 Oct 2017 Nico Julleza
A H J
Dust.
 Oct 2017 Nico Julleza
A H J
One day,
we will be all space dust
Reduced to nothing.

Even with that say,
i am still just a crust
Hidden inside everything.
written 2nd September 017
 Oct 2017 Nico Julleza
Nitin Pal
She was not the most beautiful,
Still I wonder why I fell for her;
Neither did she have those flattery eyes,
Nor it was, a moment's spur.

It all happened slowly and gradually,
Took me almost a year to realise that;
Those moments were little but meant plenty,
Oh boy, do I still today, fantasize that.

I liked some girls while I hung out with her,
****, I even dated a few;
But she was still in some corner of my heart,
I took nearly a year to tell her or maybe, two.

But still we never got together,
Because it'll only ruins things, she said.
I can't look in her eye if mine burst, I replied,
My heart was in the right place & so was my head.

I didn't forget her till date,
Nor will I ever stop loving her;
But we're way past those days,
It all looks like a big fat blur.

Hard to remember the last time that I saw her,
Maybe it was at the supermarket at the corner;
Wait, no it was the bar that I still go to,
Then, I realised it was me who adorned her.

She still never ceases to amaze me,
My vulnerable heart, did she plunder;
She wasn't that beautiful, as such,
Why did I fall for her, I wonder?
Red, Purple and Blue, flickers above and beyond You
Faint glow or shimmering glitters of a different hue
Guides of solace through times of despair
Harbouring the love, as unique tool, they could use to repair
What as long been selfishly doomed unfair

Hear now the call or be lost in the plot
Illusions endured, darkened reveries tied with a knot
Loosen all grips, forget what we are not
Forsaken, reckoners live their tales as a dot

To the Earth, solemnly we swear
Our eternal pledge, to guard its lands and lakes like the bear
For essential, is not what is displayed by those deceiving eyes
But forever, is what is, still, behind the great veil of lies

Warriors conquer selves and be bold
Indulge in truth and with all of your might behold
Universe’s promise of a proper meaning,disguised in what weighs more than gold


Altered Perception ©
This one is for those ascending souls that i'm sure heard the call
 Oct 2017 Nico Julleza
maria
I have always wondered how storytellers live
How they tell tales in a way it seems they've known it before
And how they make the audience feel the emotions of the characters
And imagine them in their own little heads.

They are storytellers, not story makers
They just tell us what they read, not what they are
They shape the way they deliver the story, not the story itself
But how 'bout their own lives is it worth telling!

Is their tale just another story like others
Lost in the maze full of people's thoughts
Left to be unsaid and unheard
And definitely not appreciated by all?

They say you shouldn't narrate your own story to the world
And you should let it be narrated to you
But what if I told you we could be storytellers
And an amazing story maker too?
As you progress through this golden stream
Eyes stuck on the endless possibilities of a promising new horizon
You stand content in a revered acceptance

Like an echo of what seems
Gently floating feathers landing upon
Mountains agreed to never meet and greet,instead stood solid in their stance

What is some to the infinite?
Like an ethereal beam of light you turn on
Fragments of a blissful happenstance

Here you are, observing the elements blending
No anger, but a bow, In sincere resignation
Life gave you meaning in a flick of a glance

Altered Perception
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