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If the night is half lit
and the silence is deafening loud
don't stop on the bridge upon Post Canal.

The shadows are rippling dark
and her water coiling snake
calls you to to take a dip.

It's shallow, says the phosphorent whisper
and the night too warm not to splash,
there's too much pain, the bridge creaks
leave behind, leave behind
you haven't anything to lose.

The winds buzz in your heart
disappear without a sound
nobody will know
nobody will care.

A few feet is not a great fall
and never greater than all the pain
you so silently suffered.

Once I stopped, tempted
almost inviting her to **** me in.

The coils rose and drew me in.

They said I jumped.

They could never know
I made peace with pain.
Could it be that
the God of Everything
was just a simple girl?
a girl that was not
so simple
a woman much more
than a woman
a God that could
extinguish everything
we know and love
with just a thought
let us be grateful
that there is a fierce kindness
twirling in her eyes
beauty at her fingertips
to create or destroy
how fortunate we are
her faith is in that
which she finds beautiful
what praise could we offer
what humble prayer
could we whisper
to her heart
what thanks
could we give her
for everything...
It seemed easier
to fall in love
with a stranger
across the sea
someone he would
never have to meet
never have to be
courageous enough
to talk to

So he did...
or at least
pretended to...

his heart failed
to notice the difference
or at least
it played along

and he smiled
a sad weary smile
but there was joy
tucked into the
corner of his lips

and that was
comfort enough
to allow him to sit
in his solitude
without the need
to feel lonely
There wasn't supposed to be a clock shop there.

Deep inside the lane and away from the bustle
the door quietly opened to the world of time.

World of Time, yes, that was the name of the shop
though it resembled more a curio shop
with the man at the counter as antique
as the time long flown away.

I want a clock to gift to somebody,
said I, amid the chiming and ticking
that if listened to for long, I was sure
would lull even the alert into sleep.

Thanks for stepping in, said the man,
with a hint of smile passing across his face,
nobody cares for time anymore, it's banished,
but for the connoisseurs still enchanted by
the melodious rhyme of swinging pendulum,
a midnight music, half listened in dream.

There's the clock chiming hourly music,
the man pointed, big but worth having,
obviously a misfit in the shrinking space,
but I say, don't compress all into small,
like say, he smiled, love and heart.

He set the music on
and slowly everything melted
from before my eyes...

I was carried home from the pavement
and some days later I returned.

World of Time, an old man recollected,
was wound up long time back.
love~worn to the extremity (get a dog)**


rare condition but not so rare,
that a first year intern might guess
the prognosis from visible symptoms,
the alternating listless groans, contextual
unexplained weeping, no singlized source
of pain but short hard stabbings in odd,
multiplex moving theaters of the brain ‘n body

slow onset, then signs manifest in increasing
rapidity, till your buddies attempt to drown
your context in a local pub, but to no avail,
just a guttural persistent wailing failing
where they beside themselves, send you home,
you’re tossed on your bed, to search for no rest,
for this malignancy is cured by lingering time,
and even then, it is a never fully excised tumor,
shedding bad humors, cells to witness to exist,
decades, a precursor to a life long disease, composing
just
one more bad
lost love poem, a
disease cancerous
in its aspect, look for the paling, waning now near
permanent discoloration around the eyes, and surely
you will have ease instantaneously recognizing me

get a dog they said,
so I did, so now, two sad eyed
lowland lady mates, two basset hounds walking each
other on silent daily trip with no destination until
one of them commences the serenade of howling


olp
march 2024
Whenever I think and have it strongly willed
I fly to the place where stands the play field
to run in the sun and burn in the heat
be again amongst faces that haven't changed a bit.

Catch they cry out the ball in the sky
coming down fast tho soared up high
staking my heart I roll on the green
both hands grabbing to smother the spin.

Who'll be in which team they call out loud
to be in the game is enough to make proud
blazes like lightning the foot with the ball
attack and defend, rise if you fall.

The bruised little frames are smeared with dust
have given their all though win isn't a must
so in this field they'll again come to play
the children of past and then another day.
For us they continue, times and spaces we have lived.
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