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A train of thought
With its narrow windows.
Snapshots of the world.
Sit down next to each other
And see the world flying by.
james Oct 7
its two in the morning
and i remember the nights when i was 11
and i tried to understand my true nature
and became afraid and confused

because the more i asked why i
felt or thought some thing or way
the less i was sure
that i had no ulterior motives

(this is how i spent my weekends
when i was not comparing
the local colleges-
yes, i was very fun at parties)

i hadn't words for it then
just frustration and shame
but tonight, in the moonlight
i found them

"the world is a story, and we are all nothing more than untrustworthy narrators," i thought
over popcorn and juice

but i was so young, too young
when i started to ponder
what my actions and beliefs
could really mean

i wouldnt say im smarter now
i wouldnt say im more at peace
but really, the best thing ive done done for myself
is forget how to think
i am not exaggerating
when i talk about not thinking.
once i didnt really like
a situation i was in
so i merely pictured television static
and a blank white room
and i spent the next twenty minutes
not thinking.


How can you tell what's on
your heart?

What is the most important thing
that you think about?


The last thought you have before going to sleep

and

the first thought you have when you
wake up.


Just quickly wrote this down before bed because it wouldn't stop bothering me.
My ever question as a poet:
Whether the world is providing me all those imaginary words
Like sitting next to my room window's fantasies-
Or rather, reality is just the jail of my real world,
And my words are just the sunshine for me, behind the bars.
06.01.2018
Offering silence

I do not want
Just to be heard
I want
To be listened to

Sometimes
I wish to know
All of myself

Head to soul

Physically
I am 5'10"
But
While I dream
I feel no less than infinity

2nd life, I live
As the Man
Behind the words
Genre: Experimental
Theme: Writing is being
I found peace within myself
I could finally smile
Be happy
For my own self.
Each day I
Look at myself.
I could say
I’m free from all
The stress was put upon me.
I could walk with my head up
Even stand up.
I’m very happy because
I have friends
Who supported me
With all my sorrows.
Now I could joke around
Laugh at everything.
I’m alive again.
Because no matter what had
Happened
God shown me the path
I need to go.
Good Morning
Is the SECOND thing
That comes into
My mind




*
I Miss You
Is the FIRST
Genre: Romantic
Theme: Bond
म सानो छदा

म सानो छदा
बिहानै उठथे
दुघ भात खान्थे
पर्खाल बहिरका बच्चाहरुले नुन रोटी खाएको दख्थे
यसो माथि हेर्थेे
आफु माथिको आकासको टुक्रा झरिहाले के गर्ने सोंच्थे
यसो पछाडी हेर्थे
भकारी भरी छ
पेट किन भरीदैन भन्ने लाग्थ्यो
अलि ठुलो भएपछि
पर्खाल बाहिर गए
गोडामा काडा बिज्यो
लडे, अनी उठे

अझै बढेपछि
त्यो भन्दा पर जादा
लडाउने मान्छेहरु भेटें
झुक्याउने मान्छेहरु भेटें
केही सन्त
धेरै अपराधिहरु  भेटें

गाडी चढेपछि अझै पर पुगें
मैदानहरु देखें
हिमाल, पहाडहरु देखें

हवाइजहाज चढेर झनै पर पुग्दा
अर्को संसार देखें
सबैलाइ उतार्न थाले
कवि बन्नै लागेको बेलामा म कवि हैन भन्दिए
मित्रहरुले माने
शत्रुले मान्दै मानेनन्
तिमी कविनै हो भने
मैले लेखेरै भन्नु पर्यो म कवि होइन

शत्रुले सोधे
त्यसो भए तिमी को हौ त?
मैले भने
म त कवि भन्दा ज्यादा फुल हो
फेरी ती मेरो पत्र,पत्र हेर्न थाले
सुध्न थाले
रुपको कुरा गरे
तिनले म नेरको पातलाई पनि सोधे
काडाको पनि रिस गरे
मलाइ भरोसा दिने हाँगाबिँगा पनि भाँचे
माटो समेत खोतलेर हेरे
तिनका हात हिलाम्मै भयो
रक्ताम्मै भयो
तिनले गड्यौलापनि देखे
किरा फटयागा्रलाइपनि सोधे
मित्रहरुले माने, म फुलै हो
शत्रुहरुले मान्दै मानेनन्
तिमी कविनै हो भने
मैले लेखेरै दिनु पर्यो म कवि होइन

शत्रुले फेरी सोधे तिमी को हौ त?
मैले भने, म पंक्षि हो
उनिहरुले गुलेली लिए
ढुङ्गाहरु हान्न थाले
पखेटाहरु काटिदिए
गुँड भत्काइदिए

फेरि सोधे तिमी को हौ त?
मैले भने तिमीहरुको मित्र
मित्रहरुले माने
शत्रुले मान्दै मानेनन्
तिनले भने तिमी हाम्रो शत्रु हो
तिमी कविनै हो
मैले लेखेरै दिनु पर्यो म कवि  होइन

त्यहाका बच्चाहरु अझैपनि
नुन रोटिनै खान्छन्
नाङ्गै धुलोमै खेल्छन्
अझै म पनि कवि बन्नै बाँकि छ
तर शत्रुहरु तिमी कविनै हो भन्छन्
तिनलाइ लेखेरै म भन्छु म कवि होइन

अहं होइन
शैली : अवलोकन
विषय :आत्मकथा
Author's Note:
When logic and reality interwine
Should one need to close the senses?
Or, let one freature the time in rhyme?
What should one do?
Mitch Prax Sep 28
Can the human mind
figure out the human brain?
Let's think about it

11:01 PM
28/9/19
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