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It’s early
On a Saturday
The city is quiet
Peaceful
Not many people out
There’s a stillness to it
Refreshing
The air is clear
Shops not open yet
It’s the beginning
Of another day
Soon the quiet will leave
Replaced by people and noise
But for now
There’s a little bit of heaven
In the quiet and peace
Early morning
Someone who lives authentically, their true self,
Unafraid of what people think.
Honestly
I don't know what's wrong with me
Can't pinpoint why no one wants me
I just don't seem to be worthy
Not worth it to friends
Not to lovers
Not even family
And what's worse
Is if there's a god
I'm not worth his time either
And he's the creator
So that hurts
Because supposedly
He made me
I cry alone
When no one wants you
You can't expect them to care
Anything about a single tear
Sitting forever
Across from an empty chair
With a double dose of fresh despair
Topped with doubt and fear
And unlike times prior
It can no longer be covered by a simple veneer
Or distracted by yet another maybe year
'Cause you're always askin',
"How come he don't want me man?"
And when I reach out for an embrace...
There's no one ever there

©2024
•°•°•THE UNCLE PHIL YOUTUBE CLIP•°•°•
It gets me every time
https://youtu.be/gMNsMdnSBIk?si=KVKvZp-aeSEuqTVd
The surface has many
Tracks,
Where previous thinkers
Have passed

It's easy to slot into one
Thinking it's you're own path

Jumping grooves
The next stage,
Gaining multiple view
Confusing at times
But worth it,
The *** is starting to brew

Skating on the surface of knowledge
How fast do you want to go?
Take a break at the side
When exhausted,
What next do you want to know?
I prayed and hope for it
I have sacrificed my time for it
But when I got it, I felt nothing

I heard "congratulations"
Such words felt nothing
Just sounds the tongue twisted

They don't know me, maybe that's why
I felt no genuine happiness
Rather I felt deep guilt.
I recently passed my board exam.  I prayed and hoped for it. I saw my name in the list of passers, but I felt nothing. I studied for a long time.

When I passed, I was congratulated, but I don't know them. They didn't know how I struggled.

I wasn't able to celebrate yet. Regardless, I should be happy.  I don't know why, but I just feel guilty. I just wanted to let this out.  Maybe, I'll give my self time to process everything.
Stopped
by the crop-dusted rowan,

-the pulpit of Song Thrush,
of gossiping Starling-

The startling pew
of a tumbling hawk
made play for a way reimagined

Over the rising
leviathan ribs,
the sins
of a sea-pulled city,
diving, dividing
the room-cluttered skyline

peopled with liminal grey..
enrapt
by a raptor
captured
seized

freed
A single lyric on a single song, sung, by one of my chosen ones, a brother and friend,
a brethren, whose hidden meanings are never hidden from me,
as we both, both gentle souls who, when lost, have been
lost
witnesses and also been witnessed:
weeping into the rags of remorse

this season is nearing conclusion, I know the sun rays penetrate, in a vain vanity of a last attempt to purify and make my soul stains,
a burnt offering, rising as smoke up to the wind,
my hearted words lifted,
letter by letter, to whence they came from

My senses are not cold, rhymes run, forgiving the sun for it’s inevitable disappearance, so it shall be displaced,
just lie us,
over then under, a nearby horizon,
with a sunset wave goodbye, a multi colored coat spectacle,
that reflects well off & on
my pallid skin

When it returns, it will be a different star, re-angled, in such a way that it can no longer do heavens work on my body and soul, both
kindred entities, each with each other,
a commemorative tree ring commonality,
a newly incised cain mark

sensitive locomotives ply between the sides of my head, knowing better than most the true meaning of fleeting, for although I am in my eighth decade now, and those words,
“there is nothing new under the sun,”
ring inherent inside like
they too newly born
 but,
running on a track well worn,
now nearly scrap iron

yet clothed in my sinner’s wet rags, the remorse ever lingers,
directed to mine own mark of Cain,
awaiting the day when the sun touches my
forehead, and those loco- motives ride higher,
for their denouement, their untying(2)

Aug 30 2024
fini 2:17 pm
by the Sound
(1) The Window Lyrics by Leonard Cohen

[Verse 1]

Why do you stand by the window?
Abandoned to beauty and pride
The thorn of the night in your *****
The spear of the age in your side
Lost in the rages of fragrance
Lost in the rags of remorse
Lost in the waves of a sickness
That loosens the high silver nerves
(2)literal translation of denouement is untying
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