Beautiful to hear     the tones and timbre
of a voice that drifts     deep and then soars high.

13:30 - 22/06/17
State of mind: calm; pensive; reflective.

Thoughts: from reflections - on a quote by Nietzsche, "Those who can breathe the air of my writings know that it is an air of the heights, a strong air. One must be made for it." combined with listening to London Grammar sing their version of "Wicked Games" by Chris Isaak.

Questions: how will the voice of your soul take shape?
Chan S 2d

Knowing love, so overwhelmingly strong
Just as much as this hate
But with a heart so pure
I know that this love is the cure.

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. To view a copy of this license, visit or send a letter to Creative Commons, PO Box 1866, Mountain View, CA 94042, USA.

I like your smiles
I like your beads
I like your look
I like your mood
I like your cook
I like your food
I like your case
I like your mind
I like your eyes
I like your kind
I like your friends
So I want you always.

I miss the moment
That was so decent
I miss your touch
I miss you so much.

You are happy and glad
You are cool never sad.
Your eyes brows and noes
Like so lovely red roes
I miss your sweets look
See your pics that took.
Hey, pretty queen sweeting
I'm still here and waiting!

going out for a drink on a weekend night
is like stepping into a zoo run by the animals
it becomes profoundly depressing
the people stumble and slur
spit and hack and vomit on each other
scream and fight and babble about nothing
it’s like a ralph steadman drawing
the scene is grotesque
and I begin to wonder
my god,
is this what I normally look like to the people around me?

nights like these make me question my choices
the drink no longer works and it grabs my hand
as it takes a nosedive off
the cliff’s edge I was so tentatively balanced upon

a drunk man with barbeque sauce spread across his face
says he likes me and has a gift for me
it’s a lint-covered pile of
chewing tobacco directly from his pocket
I haven’t said a word
he doesn’t know me
he doesn’t like me
I don’t like him
I look at his eyes
there’s nothing in there

someone go find the zookeeper

N3U2O Jun 15

...All that jazz in the microphone hips trip-hop through
Your eyes, one of which have to me - like - never lied even once;

We share dreams without cost or logic bounds, without rush
And paranoia, without shame and tool advice();

Your software really makes my ware hard, as I have just no words
For the upgrade that startled my system as your perfume rendered
The whole logic core under influence, even our nanites match and make
The finest blend chemistry what is imaginable between two human hearts.

I call beauty and your voice echoes along corridors within my mindscape,
You answered yes in tomorrow's vision, we are a loop that never gets stopped by
A single shag or a long kiss, a healing hug makes it thumb faster, the body heats
Tell each other their Brownean tales after, I look deeply into your ever-smiling glance.
You gave me a chance and thought my spirit to dance, my body to listen, we knew
Both that we don't need permission, your aching heart broke free in the embrace
I gave to the two of us, I feel even Earth is by our side, deep desires have came to
Being as you brought the beams of joy in your legs, the liberator of sorrowful
Lost lovers, the reason to come alone without the cuffs of matter and uncertainty
Principles that make our identical statues of the old temptation meaningless in
the flower decoration you thrive to be, acting as naturally as only you can be...

This has nothing to do with my style, you shape passion out of my more mechanical self
Into a wonder beyond clear, symmetric logic, a whisper that remains imbued with magic
A lie that stood true all along while all the true facts collided, I just glared in the into a Place that hided the perfect maze of shadow and colour and light within your remedial happiness...

In this moment I'm sure that history will gladly
Spend time wondering around as you
Make my life shine, no more haunting pasts
Drive through the fictional present,
The most likely innocent future,
Your inner young mischievous pretty-faced
Smart girl fused with your
Caring mother and witty-wise-fun nature
As a woman, you make my day lose all of its
Gloomy clouds, give it meaning and my soul
Courage to move on,
To me: never let hope Go,
That our destinies cease to be ends,
Become beginnings,
Those forever whole-hearted Promises
Are no longer vacant words,
But Bring seeds of awakened worlds,
Taking us far beyond the laws of
Body attraction,
Sensational action;
- A whole, not a fraction!
We are in each other's arms resting.

In this, I give you my really rare kindest traces to my soul's finest places.
My passionate patience until all starts to make sense,
An ancient restless quest for me now you have solved,
A hiding happiness returns to me as we give
Our mixed hands an elegant, equal, melting-warm hold.

- by us, on the 15th of June in 2017, my year of blessed fading solitude.

Lead by the wild,
Mother Nature,
Our Tradition leads..
Amidst variance we are almighty
Made from the cavings of the supernatural,

From earth to the woods
We bowl to the furnace of Ogogi
I imagine thy presence for thy breath was drizzling...
Energy of thunder, rage of Olympus.. Figurine return

The vain of lightening...
Yet you permit and admit
For I didn't ask for fire or will
I asked a thoughtful questions..

I live in you even if you hold me in your hands..
I will place you on the alter of Sacraments..
I would watch thy supremacy bowl to God

The lord is mighty.. He that made thy image in his likeness... will thread with

Tale of Titan
Wyatt R May 16

My chest feels tight
and the promise I made
to myself every day
gets a little blurrier.
The way that I look
is no good indicator
of my internal war
currently in progress.
I wished that I was fine
and hoped that this slum
I was in was just a slope
and I'd soon come back up.
I talked myself out of it
until I couldn't feel my throat
with the classic phrase
that you'll feel much better when
the present turns to the future.
I wished that I was fine
and hoped I'd feel numb
when I finally embrace
the cold bitter truth
that everything we do
so much of the time
all feels to be done in vain.

After 6 passing affairs,
Now I accept that I will be alone.
Now I should get married,
Choice be of my parents' interest.
Even if I don't marry anyone,
I will survive just for my parents.

1. Kanupriya (Wadhwa) Joshi (15 months girlfriend) - my first ex who is married now.
2. Sachi (Bansal) Singla (6 months girlfriend) - my second ex who is also married by now. Broke up with me after my accident.
3. Gurjeet Kaur (3 months girlfriend) - the first girl who double crossed me and is going to get married in December '17.
4. Varsha Panchal (1 day gf) - my fourth girlfriend who had another boyfriend and was simply using me as a a time pass.
5. Chandan Gumra (1 year passive gf) - I forgot about my promise to that most gorgeous girl after I sent her to study for her PMT by making her delete the Facebook account and I stupidly started my next relationship. She was back when I was 1 year into the next relationship. She unexpectedly called me on my phone and was really sad to know that I was in a new relationship after I had forgotten about the promise of love. Unarguably my sole mistake ever.
6. Kripi Mehra (3 years gf) - she couldn't win over her internal conflicts. She broke up the commitment relationship with me as she was incompatible for a long-term long-distance relationship with me and then I destroyed all of the friendship because I don't want to be used or kept as an option for someone.
7. Loneliness - probably my permanent girlfriend.

No more girlfriends and no more sorrow.

My HP Poem #1531
©Atul Kaushal
claire May 5

a poem in three parts

at first,
he is so sweet.
he swallows all of you whole
like the blueberries you bought at the side of the road
on the way to the campsite upstate that was
dirty and loud and perfect.
he tells you that you are
dirty and loud and perfect.
he wants to stake a tent between your legs,
to start a fire on your chest,
to hike up your canyons,
to admire the view.
he says you look better when you eat less
so you survive on sipping ink from your pen
and eating prose off of pages like
a buffet that is all-you-can-eat
as long as you keep writing it.
that winter,
you learn to subsist on newports and the words stuck in your throat.

he says, “i don’t like poems that rhyme.”
so you fondle dissonance in your sleep.
you cut the vowels from your words until they’re as jagged and harsh as his body feels.
that winter,
everything you write comes out sharp and obvious like your ribcage was.

he says your biggest problem is that you’re easy to leave.
your eyes are red like exit signs.
your spine curves like a see you later.
you frown your hellos and smile your goodbyes.
you can’t find it in you to tell him
he cannot leave where he never stayed.
at thanksgiving,
you take the train to laguardia
to meet your parents at the airport.
waiting at the baggage claim,
you watch your mother
look right through you
as she dials you on the phone.
“we don’t see you,”
she says, three steps away.
“we can’t find you.”
she is so close, you could touch her.
instead, you watch the bags go round and round on their carousel--
wishing you could ride with them.
wishing someone would claim you.
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