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I was born different.
They knew from the start.
I was a healthy baby boy.
Really cute and beautiful too.
But then I started crying.
All day and all night long.
No one knew what the problem was.

Bring me to places
Where it is quiet and peaceful.
Dear mother, I know.
I am as I am and only you understand.
I need calmness in my head.



Shell ✨🐚
We are born not the same but genuine.
There are many children born with autism, some so slightly that’s not recognized. These children can flourish when getting the right guidance.
Like wine
deep in the racks
poems
carefully age
Each of a
vintage
a time and a place
— labeled to consume

(The Rathskeller: July, 2015)
The righteous
may struggle
the righteous may fall
But Hell
only exists
— in a place without love

(1st Book Of Prayers: April, 2024)
Someone left the light on or perhaps it's that the night's gone and the day has broken in.

I was in a dream but I'm not sure whose,
the thing is one cannot choose who dreams of who, but there I was.

Thank the Lord the morning came
because I was bored with the weird little game that the dream had me play,
but to be honest it wasn't all bad,
I've asked to go back on Saturday.
Winter’s releasing us from its perpetually gray and gloomy grip.

Who can study in their room, on a beautiful spring afternoon?
Azaleas assail ya, with champagne petals of bubblegum fuchsias,
they blush in near neon reflection, with a mathematical, fractal perfection.

Courtyards that were once dark and uninviting, frosty scenes,
sport impromptu manicured carpets, of flawless, vibrant greens.

Dogwoods explode, abruptly overnight, with cherry blossom whites
they blush like brides on parade, they sachet, swaying flag-like bouquets.

Ordinary maples become emerald queens by unfurling avocado, hunter and chartreuse leaves,
accented with vibrant electric limes and honeydews, as if to say, ‘We too can please.’

New life stretches, almost yawning, in the seemingly reborn sun, insects hum as they cultivate,
birds flit excitedly, as if to say,  ‘Why’re you inside? Come out and play - why do you even hesitate?’

I know there’s something in spring that’s irresistible, pheromonal, hormonal, surfeit and emotional.
Is it the solar zenith angle or the sun’s declination that produces these delightful inclinations?
.
.

Songs for this:
Funky Galileo by Sure sure
You get what you give by New Radicals
New World Coming by Cass Elliot
BLT Merriam Webster word of the day challenge: Surfeit: too much, excess, more than you need.
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