Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Àŧùl Oct 2019
=======
Demons seem stuck in my nose,
Eerie suffocation haunts me often,
Vile are the consequences,
Irked I am to say the least,
A choking sensation threatens me,
Throttling my breath away,
Even the best medicines won't help,
Day of surgery beckons me.

Nostrils struggle to keep hydrated enough,
Awful is the nasal sound that I make,
Sniffling loud enough all the time,
A snorting man is not so pleasant,
Losing my years, I am, due to it.

Seldom passes a minute I don't snort,
Elephantine this issue becomes,
Putting a bad impression of mine,
Taking care not to let people be friends,
Ultra irritated I am by myself,
Must is an intranasal surgery.
DNS also means Domain Name System but in my case it means a Deviated Nasal System.
I am going for an intranasal surgery early next year.
It will require me to be unconscious by administration of general anæsthesia.
I don't fear the OT.
I have survived worse.
I have survived the worst.
However, funds are an issue for me.
I don't want to bother my parents.

My HP Poem #1779
©Atul Kaushal
Simon Oct 2019
Blood isn’t just binary. It’s conclusive. Full of nonsense that isn’t discernible by judgment itself. It’s conclusive because it matters. Rather then being a binary code full of testaments replacing information over something absorbed prior. Fluid control. Over a fluid encompassing passage. Passage through dark crevices it creeps. Creeping into the darkest of depths. While making the most sense. Sense without equal. Forms becoming taught from within, rather then being instructed on the surface. Structures within aren’t binary by instructed purposes alone. As being taught isn’t something left out in the dark, when it’s also able to learn in the light. Surfaces aren’t shifting. There migrating to better circumstances. One in the same. Correction has no values if one or the other isn’t what it always seems, when taking a closer look. Up close in its details, reveals it all. How much is one willing to see? Waiting for the views to be answered. Speculating isn’t contrary by any default. Viewing isn’t just a construct of pressed desires either. Simply a common observation. In that observation, blood carries all sorts of knowledge already in it’s grasp. Pinpointing the construct with pressed desires. No. It’s flowing any aspect in a system engineered by the steady constants all around itself. Different forms generating different instances of strife. While strife isn’t labeled by much, until something made further observations. The views are just consequential. Random instances in a random binary function. Detesting anyone’s views when carrying on without an interpretation involved. It’s consequential, by being its own aspect. Its own thing. Processing its own flow. Circulating its own properties. Wills and wants. Covering every crevice of the system. You are labeled by what…? Views? Observations? Interpretations? Shifty desires aren’t always what they seem when it’s covering every knowledge base in the machine. We walk in the embedded actions were instructed by. Shifting one moment without concern. Migrating the next, with stride and interest. Blood is the secret of knowledge because it’s covering the entire system, we breath. Feeling the information of the nerves hum the binary code better in circulation. Warming the blood with all it’s might! Blitzing past its flow of tightly fit closure. Information in the sense of blood cells. Nerve cells is another passage of rich knowledge. Blood is the secret focus that fissures in-between nerve cells generating basic structures on the surface. Instructed to be wild. Blood isn’t just focus. It’s taught to bind itself through the systems thinking they don’t require its binary frequencies. Frequencies polishes the hum of processes into delightful instructing. Body feels it. Other flowing systems sense it. Does viewing it understand it? Does observing wrap everything up into one bundle? Or does interpretation dissolve all visuals into one encompassing tale? About (how it should work?) Before realizing ones, interpretations are held beneficial by views and observations. Detested by one who is viewing it by interpretation. Interpretation is wrong! Deeeeaaaadddd wrong! Interpretations on the surface. It’s to bad. Why don’t you try focusing from within? Might learn something more visually speaking then what interpretation wants with all its desires combined. When you figure that out. Your being instructed by the secret knowledge of bloods binary access itself.
Blood is sometimes discountable in relations of how dense it's properties can consume. Flowing through the nourishment of our body’s natural claims. And for what...? It just being there, as we do our own steady bidding?
Stop asking for medical advice on Facebook,
Your superglue stitches and peroxide mismanagement
Will cost you more than a doctor's visit.
Stop asking for medical advice on Facebook
If you want to keep your limb.
I've found more competence on the "interweb."
Stop asking for medical advice on Facebook.
An oxygen embolism and cellulitis will
Have you putting out more than the Urgent Care.
Please, stop asking for medical advice on Facebook!
-Sincerely,
The EMT student who is constantly preventing disaster
For people with minor injuries who think 50's era first aid advice
Is a suitable alternative.
Erian Rose Sep 2019
He walked past skyscrapers and city lights
Passing the school every night.
"I'll still be here," He mumbled into the dusk
While asteroids blazed overhead.
Days followed by
In a solar system, running down.
The more he looked up -
The more he felt like gravity was letting loose
"Someday, somehow, we'll collide."
Forever hoping,
It was who they were.
They were on a collision course.
William de klerk Aug 2019
If metal music racket and a straight jacket
can clog the corporations cogs,
then unemployable bleach blond anarchists turning white coats into black cloaks
is when  tattoos and pierced ears
become a parents worst fears.

We walk with untucked shirts and short skirts, wearing  a students mask
I hide a whiskey flask
in a blue blazer pocket  
knowing  dam well they can't stop it
if I walk with a lit cigarette in the parking lot past a parent, it's inherent that since they can't beat us anymore we won't join them.

But I'm not scared.

Because their clone army won't harm me.
Just like the microwave rays the crazies raved on about in the good old days
when disco was king and Justin didn't sing,
back when ADHD wasn't real,
and depression was just no big deal.


So call me a student psychopath armed with a devilish laugh as i bounce round a rubber room in a tin foil hat
refusing to be the systems lab rat.
So they call me a rebel as I lay back in revel watching the rabbit hole unfold
as a thousand sheep break the mold
that the man made when red writing atop a page became how we wage a child's worth.



So the sheep that march through the flames
immerge adorning robes of rebellion,
as the sounds of so many chains severed symphonies through the generation
marking many young minds escaping the confines society's shoved down indoctrinated throats.
Àŧùl Aug 2019
1.
The caste-based discrimination,
Warranted by caste-based reservation,
In the Indian nation;

2.
It brings people on the roads so often,
Their feelings refuse to soften,
With blood of men, roads soon glisten;

3.
Few wanting newer reservation,
Some wanting more reservation,
None thinking about deservation;

4.
They all cry reservation aloud,
Getting alms, they feel proud,
Disaster is hidden in a shroud;

5.
Politicians cash in on the issue,
If you're needy, they won't miss you,
Arrange your own teary tissue;

6.
The caste politics they're playing,
Truly careless they're behaving,
Threats they're manufacturing;

7.
Caste-based reservation is like a fire,
These crutches will take none higher,
Remember, remember this lone flyer.
The world needs to worry about the Indian caste-based reservation system, which instead of banishing the misinterpreted Varṇ Vyavastha, further making the caste lines more pronounced.

Read my novel that critiques the Indian system.

My novel is a love story of how a young man protects his fiance and fights with death once again on the flight to Hamburg as (currently only fictional) terrorists attempt to hijack it.

In the novel, "7 Seconds: A Typical Guy, Atypical Life" by Atul Kaushal, 7 July 2017 is the date that Akshant Kautilya takes the flight from New Delhi to Hamburg and is engaged in a struggle against the hijackers who demand repealing of the Indian caste-based reservation system.

If you prefer reading the hard-copy version then you can now read my novel in its hard-copy version apart from its eBook version.

My HP Poem #1760
©Atul Kaushal
Yanamari Aug 2019
Push
And there's a
Pull
A smile
After you
Cry
Tears
Always evaporating, cheeks
Dry

Gaze
Unreturned
Conversations
Undiscerned
Value
Unlea­rned
Forgotten



A yell,

No turn
Words churned
In the instability
I am floating in
Unable to earn
The desires that I
Yearn
Locked in my frozen
Urn


Floating in
Uncontrollable colour changing tar
The one thing I expected
To remain constant
Was the lack of equilibrium
And I .... Why is it you're looking...
Looking at me?
Pers Ref: WA 2Aug (Butter). Is it really the beginning of equilibration?
Twalib Mushi Jun 2019
I
follow your pattern
You
totally change
my nervous system
I
don't know what happen
Is it real or a game!?

Also
you
change my reputation
Nobody
I
should blame
Is it real or a game!?
This
question is rotating
In my head
is still vibrating!
Ruth Nadler-Nir Jun 2019
The system Broke you
Without a scratch
Or a scar to show for it
You were vivacious creature full of the joys of life
But you just got quieter
that’s what they wanted
Isn’t it?
that system made you submit
It forced you to conform
It twisted your mind and contorted your soul
Into its little box
its perfect padded cells with cast iron locks
Say what you feel
But only it’s it’s correct
Speak your truth
As long as it’s what the memo says
They tell you they’ll give you an education
But it’s never what you’d expect
They take your soul
didn’t you read the small text?
Next page