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When we are sick
Our body suddenly appears as a conscience
Creating unease and pain
A burden uncontrollable yet much
thought about
The realization of its materiality
And the existence of the physical becomes more clearer
The mind and body separates into a two winged subject
As both separate and intimate existence
One that depends on the other and vice versa
This new rythmic thoughts go on.
A body, a presence is felt for the first time.
This conscience of the body awakens in us only when we are totally or partially sick.It spreads like a pain and for the first time realise we exist with our bodies which we take for granted.
In dead earnest,
she tries to raise hell,
put on an act
as best as she can,
forgetting altogether
she still is a greenhorn
in such matters, though
graduated to be his bride
from a lover for so long
underprivileged all the while,
grabbing the very first chance
after the new found privilege.

He watches her goof up
inexperience in evidence,
out of the corner of his eye
does nothing but conceals his smile;
caught in the act, her perplexity
gives her up, that was the best part
of the act: the bride's belligerence.
Every bad has some good in it
like silver line round the cloud
a bad isn't bad every bit
has something to make feel proud.

One night on a rainy day
out on my aimless roam
saw a koi that lost its way
caught it and brought it home.

In a bucket it lived two years
no way I would ever regret that
had I on that day chosen to stay clear
it would have been taken by a cat.

Once she bought a bird cheap
back home we soon found out
surely it wasn't a prized keep
was lame in one leg no doubt.

But be sure we chose not at all a wrong
the foot though not cured healed a lot
the budgie would not have lasted long
had its lameness prevented to be bought.
You take credit for my poem
You've stolen my emotions,
my heart,my hurt and my notions
But you deny yourself the opportunity
Of being you for with my poems
It's me,whether it's your name
Underneath or above
Write your own, write something you deserve
For plagiarism is climbing a mountain from above
Try the slopes, hold to your hopes
Listen to that voice inside
One day you might become a poet
I wasn't one either
But stealing someone else's didn't get me here.
If for a moment she could escape, she would.
Even if just for a few hours.
Lost in silence or lost in a crowd.

She chose to escape in him.
And had she known that was the most dangerous thing she could have done,
I believe she still would have done it all the same.
Written October 3rd, 2015. What a crazy thing it is to read a past emotion.
You do not understand,
I have never known love
I have had many lovers
But none of whom have loved me
Nor have I ever loved in return.

You do not understand
You puzzle me
With you, I am like a child learning to walk
Learning to speak
This is all a foreign language to me.

You do not understand
I am afraid.
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