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I am aware of the voices
Aware of the choices
That led to these scars
Each one is beautiful
Each one is dark
Each one tells a story
Of how they left their mark
Some are from anger
Some are from pain
Some of these scars even have a name
I remember how they cut me
How I felt ashamed
In a moment of weakness
I’d play a little game
Sink the blade deeper
Grit me teeth through the pain
Each one of these scars
Tells a story
No two are the same
Mental illness is a real disease that affects people of all colors, races, genders, and religions . It never discriminates! if you or someone you know is struggling with mental illness or suicide please there is hope reach out to the suicide and crisis lifeline CALL OR CHAT 988 or go to 988lifeline.org
Words are just carbon duplicates
of intertwined shapes to insinuate a specific instruction

Trying to make sense of it all, intricate complications seem to follow the very next sound

Wrapped in their secular meaning and internal definitions, we don't know the true pieces inside them

Does it mean light, dark, weird, crazy, confused, red, green, or gold?

Left, right, or upside down, who knows.
Its a guessing game of sorts. What do you see? Is it the same as me?

Linguistics interrupting unusual interceptions of crossing patterns within mixed mediums

See Jack Run, Red Fish, Blue Fish or 1,2,3
What does this all mean? Is it all free?

Signs of simple or insane complexities
surrounding mental restraints.
Turning the page, what do we see next?

Oh ok, now I get it !! Letters of different languages placed within the confines of a verbal, visual, or audible prison

"Call me Ishmael"
 Nov 4
Steve
What a world we live in,
Where we watch while others die.
What a world we live in,
When we hardly bat an eye.

The world looks on,
While the chosen, choose,
To ignore what was done, - to them
Or what it’s like to lose.

Maybe we’d be forgiven,
If we tried to stem the tide,
If our conscience, once driven,
Saved the life of a single child.

We watch them use,
The fickle face of a martyr.
And accede to the ruse,
They’re using babies to barter.

What a world indeed,
And where to hide our shame?
All that power and all that greed,
And it proceeds in our name.
 Oct 21
Silence Screamz
Make it disappear

****!!
It's gone

Missing from sight
and moved by distraction.

Simple trust with a slight of hand,
conjuring blank and confused stares.

The audience is left in awe.

The curtain falls down exposing the trick,
It is fragile but silent

This becomes our lives exposed,
transient dreams of the simple things.

Distant memories of time vanish,
seeping seeds inside
our lost thoughts.

With the wave of the wand,

****!
we disappear to dust.

No audience to clap or gasp,
just a fragile piece of magic
as the curtain slowly closes
on our minds
 Sep 28
Àŧùl
The date was April 3, 2000.
A cool zephyr blew and
I forgot every morning blue,
Right when I saw the angel,
She was so beautiful,
As if a princess, or a fairy,
I was 9 at that time.

She had come down from the hills,
From the Himachali town of Solan,
And she had just come to our school.

I looked at her, and I was dumbstruck.

Her sideways glance,
It was so fascinating,
As if a fairy came down,
From the mountains, I mean,
I can never forget her,
Neither her name,
Nor her harmonious voice.

She became the class monitor,
And I intentionally made a noise,
To get her often talking to me,
Oh I remember everything clearly,
"Atul–Keep quiet!" she'd shout,
And I'd laugh silently, but laugh anyway,
And her nostrils would flare red.

In 2001, I drowned in the infatuation,
Deeper than the Mariana Trench,
Sitting on my school bench.

In 2002, her father expired,
And she was traumatised,
Seeing her sad, I was shocked too,
And she stopped talking to us,
But she always scored well,
Yes, she did score nicely,
And I was inspired.

In 2003, I changed schools,
But in 2005, I met her again,
She gave me her number,
I often used to call her,
Not once did she,
Because she didn't have my number,
Not that her caller ID didn't show it,
But our EPABX number always varied.

In 2007, I confessed to her on a call,
I told her, "I have always loved you,"
And she scolded me without waiting,
"Atul! I never expected this from you."
She continued, "Never call me again!"
I was crestfallen, disappointed, and sad.
I'd have sung my original song had she accepted.

That song I composed for her,
Had come out of my heart.
It was a lyric of my desperation.
And a tune of my romance.
It was a hope of my loneliness.
And a promise of my love.
But she rejected my proposal.

I never called her again, out of respect.
Anyway, I credit her for making me a poet.
I credit her for making me a singer & artist.
But I still love her so deeply, and
So truly that I look for her everywhere,
In every prospective match,
In every passing batch.

These days she's in Chandigarh.
I know not if she's single or not.

My HP Poem #2000
©Atul Kaushal
 Sep 26
Silence Screamz
Does your day feel like blah, blah,  blah?
Sifting through your emotions like
What the hell, brah.

I know, its a Monday, its raining, your kids are sick, and you got a migraine, plus your partner has been a pain.

You forgot to bring your lunch to work, left your wallet or purse on the dresser, and you have to work late.

You feel like, come on life, cut me a break.

Oh by the way!!

The mortage is due, your car is on empty, and the laundry is a plenty.

All of this in the first 15 minutes of the day.. then you scream "no effing way"

But wait!!

STOP AND TAKE A DEEP BREATH

For a quick minute,
You close your eyes
The rain stops pouring
and the puddles are dry

The radio is playing your favorite tune,
you turn up the sound, it
changes your mood

Oh, What a day it was,
cruising right bye,
It started with a mess
and ended with a sigh.

Enjoy each day,
Take a minute or a few
Relax and breathe
and you do you
 Sep 19
Àŧùl
Joe was a teenager unhappy with his bed,
For it creaked a lot whenever he moved.

He asked his parents to get it fixed,
But they told him to grow up & earn.

Soon his parents were both dead,
In an accident, in a ****** one.

Though he escaped from the accident,
Poor Joe was traumatised unfathomably.

His parents had a great accidental insurance,
And they were so sincere in doling out the claim.

Cremated them in the electric crematorium,
He was left with a million dollars and an urn.

He had a girlfriend, Jonita, very beautiful,
She was very active in life and in the bed.

Tiaan-tiaan, karr-karr, chian-chian,
Creeaak-creeaak, creeaak-creeaak.

Helped him move beyond the sordid memories,
She helped him soothe himself with the love.

The bed used to screech whenever they played,
They jumped on the bed, and they danced.

Rhythmically their dance lasted for 7 minutes,
Sometimes they played for multiple sessions.

Jonita one day told Joe to be serious,
For life's not just about love and ***.

Sure, Joe had a million dollars,
But that was what he inherited.

Now Joe must be serious and get a job,
For the inheritance & insurance are limited.

Jonita negatively motivated him,
Challenging Joe to earn something.

Joe promised to start earning,
But asked Jonita to marry him.

She consented, and they got married,
Kept the ceremony very much private.

Just the two of them, and two witnesses,
In that morbid-looking court house.

'That money is limited,' realised Joe,
Prepared to get employed with the Force.

He grew up and hustled harder in the fray,
And achieved getting enlisted in the Force.

Jonita was already happy, now she was proud,
Her stallion now wore the royal blue plumes.

"You're my centaur," she used to say happily,
Whenever he'd dress up for reporting at work.

Truly he was a centaur for her, and for the Force too,
Guiding his jet through the angelic skies.

'Life is good,' so thought Joe,
He trusted his every bro.

His friends assured him of his wife's safety,
Of her safety, Joseph indeed want a surety.

Joe went away for a war, call of duty, you know,
But before he went, he had a battle in the bed.

A ferocious one, with blaring metal in the background,
He drilled Jonita deep until they both bled.

There were scars on Joe's back,
As if a cat scratched him bad.

Even Jonita had hickeys and bite marks,
As if a bunny had nipped her *******.

Her shoulders bore witness to love,
And to ******* of that dove.

The news spoke of a war that broke out,
And Joe received the deployment orders.

Now, soon he went away for the war,
He missed her during the month away.

The bed's creaking he missed the most,
The centaur avoided stroking his bird.

He focused on the war, and the battle plan,
Also, he wanted to save some memories to share.

He shot, he fired, and dropped some bombs,
Killed many soldiers, maimed some others.

He also downed many enemy fighter jets,
Evaded enemy fire, engaged them in dogfights.

Amongst all the targets he hit,
The enemy soldiers were decimated.

And they won the war sooner than expected.

He shifted his focus from the war to the lover,
But he planned something more.

Joseph wanted to surprise Jonita,
So he didn't let her know he was coming home.

When he arrived back,
He wanted to read her eyes.

So, he used his set of keys.

'Pleasant surprise' he expected,
But he heard the bed creaking.

The same way it did when they made love,
The same way it did when she rided his lightning.

He loaded his gun.

Nervous, he climbed up, expecting the unspeakable,
But peered inside the bedroom to find her alone.

Sure, she was naked,
But not with anyone else.

She was gyrating to his memories,
There was his name in her whispers.

And all this while,
Her eyes were closed.

Gyrating and vibrating,
Cupping her pillows.

It was her own hands,
Not anybody else's.

He unloaded the gun.

Joe was lucky,
He had Jonita.
A poem inspired by my favourite English song.

My HP Poem #1974
©Atul Kaushal
 Aug 24
Steve
Listen to the trees,
Hear them rustle in the breeze.
They whisper to the wind,
As it bristles all their leaves.
50 shades of green,
Shimmer like a dream,
And the trees give out a clue,
That the wind is passing through.
While somewhere deep inside,
Ghostly figures hide.
Spirits from within the wood
Play with shadows as they should.
The trees see you passing by,
And, with a soothing sigh,
Becalm your beating heart,
And relax your roving eye.
From an early morning walk in the woods.
 Jun 13
Sarah Mulqueen
I'm unsure what it is about these majestic creatures that first drew me in
From a young age I longed to be surrounded by them

I made friends with a neighbour
she tolerated my company well enough. That smell, molasses and grains barrels high. Her dusty old feed shed with hands just as grey

I made friends with a girl who was just as obsessed. We would play "horses" all recess. I would stay every weekend holidays too quizzing each other on horse facts we knew

I'm unsure how I still admire these creatures. I've been kicked. Though never bit.
I've been holding on for dear life while the horse gallops and kicks
Yet I'd get on a horse tomorrow and feel just as I did as a kid
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