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Let’s talk about feelings - feelz.
Does anything else really matter?
Ok, sure - health - yeah, right up there.

Covid was my generation’s depression (literally).
Maybe not for everyone, there were places that ignored covid, I think.

We didn’t ignore it, not any of it, not at my parent’s house.
Do I sound bitter? I got fifteen long months of ‘social isolation.’
In most states, you can shoot someone and not get fifteen-months.

At one point, we sprayed Lysol on everything that came into the house. Except the cats.
Anyway, that lock-down mess was reason #1 why I skipped senior year of high school for college.

If you look-up ‘desperate’ in the right dictionary, they used my high-school junior-year photo to illustrate it.

University felt so far, so different from my covid, remote video, no-touch high school life that it was, in the most basic sense, like going to a foreign country.

It felt dreamy, in a jet-lagy, out of sync, science fiction, not part of real-life way. I landed in this wonderland where I didn’t know anyone, or where anything was and there was a different sense of fashion, of music, of freedom and I didn’t quite speak the language (not snack bar, buttery).

It was like there was a soundtrack, that’s how serious it was.

You know how, when you’re intoxicated, you can be half awake and still excited? I didn’t want to miss any of it, I’d rub my eyes to stay focused.

Everything was so stimulating - the sights, the sounds. I had this idea about writing - a fealty to the idea that I could capture the experience and share it with others.

Now, I think that idea was so 2021.

OK, before it’s too late - poetry time!

Now-a-days I feel like I’m in the know
hold on, I’ll I paint the celestial afterglow
uhh, this might take a while..
.
.
Songs for this:
Dreamin' by G. Love & Special Sauce
VIRGO'S GROOVE by Beyoncé
BLT Merriam Webster word of the day challenge: Fealty: an intense loyalty to a person or idea
Today I met someone I knew before.
We talked for a while, shared memories and more.
Then I realized, we can only meet the same person once,
For experience asks, and change is our response.

Static we can't be, unless life's flame
Is snuffed out, and we're just a name.
In every encounter, new experiences we obtain;
Our paths have shifted, though echoes remain.

Time's gentle passage had left its mark,
On hearts once familiar, now slightly stark.
Contrast of past and present, like a shifting dream,
Each conversation weaves new threads in the seam.

After our meeting, I closed my eyes,
Remembering what once was, under the skies.
In quiet reflection, I found a trace
Of the past intertwined with the present’s embrace.
Àŧùl Jul 4
1.
I successfully survived the accident,
Thanks to my good Karma in this life
Not in a previous one.

2.
In '09-10, I volunteered for the society,
Educating underprivileged kids and
Their parents too.

3.
Now I'm a successful professional,
Thanks to equitable opportunities
Available in Bháràŧà.

4.
I may have lost my golden years,
But I am in no way literally lost
In the competition.

5.
That accident triggered a cascade,
A chain of unfavourable events
In my family.

6.
My mother lost her knee caps,
Due to her efforts to bring me back
And long standing hours for that.

7.
My father broke his acetabulum,
When trying to save me from falling
While he retrained me.

8.
But I'm thankful to Bhàgàwán,
That both of them are alive
And I'm finally successful.

9.
I don't resent my destiny,
For costing me more than
A complete decade.

10.
My ordeal began on May 7, 2010,
When I landed inside the hospital
On my potential deathbed.

11.
But I knew that I must survive,
For my sentence is not yet over
Here on this planet.

12.
My spirit didn't depart that day,
Although I lost years & friends
Due to the accident.

13.
I didn't fall from Grace of the Lord,
Instead I was sent back with a mission
Amidst the humans.

14.
To teach the lesson of love,
Not through conversion
Or bloodshed.

15.
But through the words of wisdom,
Consideration, love, truth
And experience.

16.
Through these poems of decency,
Rhyme, structure, rhythm
And magic.

17.
The magic is love,
The structure is evident
And the rhythm is so divine.

18.
My parents smiling is my success,
The golden sheen of future
Is my redemption.

19.
In the end,
I speak to you, O Gauri,
You do realise that you're my future.

20.
To you I have promised,
The intensity and the
Love you deserve.

21.
Not short of words ever,
Not because of vocabulary
But because of my passion.

22.
The passion for my life,
The passion for my love
And my love is you.

23.
Never forget what you want,
I'm solely yours, darling,
Yes, you want me.
1 poem. 23 verses. 362 words, 1872 characters

My HP Poem #1973
©Atul Kaushal
et Jun 26
Life will teach you that life doesn’t really matter
I wonder if my life is as irrelevant as an ant on the ground
Or a drop of spit from 10,000 feet above
And life is hard
I think for everyone no matter what
Why are we here and why do we have such complex emotions
For someone who doesn’t mean anything to anyone
How can they still feel so much for everyone
Nobody really cares about anyone’s life until they are dead

-e.t
This obsolete word- love;
in its pathetic love passions; - a lover’s promise
to do better– is a sorrow for a morrow. Digging in
your heart to express jealous feelings- love has just caved
in; loving one from the very pits of their own darkness.
Love is beauty, but also promises probable harshness.

In the letter ‘L’-
is longing, but also many let downs.
‘O’ – openness to broad communication; also the
opportunity to opposing standards. The rest of the letters
are blurred- as to why you won’t see me express them well.

Of cos, one should be sentimental;
still the mental response of love- gives tears;
of a heart building up a great sentinel…
Jeremy Betts May 21
I don't deserve her
She deserves better
Didn't know you could experience a record skip with a paperback chapter
Forever risking this status of together

©2024
Thomas Harvey May 16
He wakes in the morning
Sore from all the years before
But he's still strong at his core
As life always proceeds without warning


This morning's no different
He gets his coffee and sits at the table
Looking out the window, admiring the horses in the stable
Though he's at the age where he feels indifferent


Later on in the day he gets moving
For a dead man is a lazy man
He knows long ago he would have ran
But these days he’s bound to keep improving

A man that should be full of sorrow
He finds a way to enjoy the moment
Grief to him is a worthy opponent
As he looks forward to each tomorrow


The trick is locked away in his mind
He figured it out long ago
Back when he let go of his ego
The trick is to start with what you want to find
Zywa May 5
Home is: where you live.

We are not from a country --


but from our childhood.
"On n'est pas d'un pays, on est de son enfance" ("We are not from a country, we are from our childhood", René Frégni, 2016, in the poetic short story collection "Je me souviens de tous vos rêves" ["I remember all your dreams"])

Film "Interdit aux chiens et aux Italiens" ("No Dogs or Italians Allowed", 2022, Alain Ughetto)

Collection "Being my own museum"
David Cunha Feb 10
Vibrant despair blowing out like sand paper from the soul
Dreams of colour
Fearless hallucination of love
for the World

A stream of consciousness so pure and thick
like a raw gem
like a river
like a marching bull
Painfully fulfilling me full

I could run for miles if I had the Sea to sightsee
if I had the Sun gleaming on me
if I had your figure in memory
even if I had nothing and wasn't meant to be

A fuel that bursts my pupils into a huge void
serotonin
dopamine
adrenaline
and so
a rocket to the Moon and my hands on this keyboard
setting the stage for another round

I cannot be stopped, I can only be blunt
I can only do it
I can only run
Veins bulk in a steaming rush
and thus time disappears like a fog

I am lucky I am here
- David Cunha
february 10, 2024
5:16 a.m.
Zywa Feb 1
Today, too much is

happening, I must pretend --


it is a story.
Novel "Buitenstaanders" ("Outsiders", 1983, Renate Dorrestein), § 3

Collection "Truder"
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