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Desire Dec 2018
a nd  with my   e yes
i  widely   o pen,
I see yo u
like consonants
needing their vowels,
I need Y ou
V. Word
Originally written/posted: 20181121
Desire Dec 2018
I'm just an average guy...
I've got normal problems and a normal life
I've also got a voice inside
silently speaking - sounds of my mind
I wonder, does it have a mind of its own?
Always flooding like a river formed by a hurricane,
if my head gets too cloudy,
there'll be a high chance of rain and scattered brainstorms

It might short-fuse my hippocampus
unable to remember how to see;
a blacked-out occipital lobe
I still don't see how the backs of our brains allow us to see
through the front our faces and out of our eyes,
where most of the water falls
despite the brain's overflowing, muddy river,
or the temporary lack of sight,
I still have a voice.

And with it, I will share all of the stories stored within this blackbox,
and only this light can find them and shine on them.
My voice, a wave riding my mind's ocean's surface
This voice, this wave, this sound,
a complicatedly, clear conscious,
called into focus...
[a sound of (my) mind]
II. Saying What's on My Mind
Originally written/posted on: 20181120
Desire Dec 2018
We all got stories.
Stories are life's language;
language impacts perception - our
own, others, and nations.
"Stories dispossess, stories malign,
stories empower, stories humanize,
stories rob and break dignity,
stories repair whats broken..."
Single stories are scanty.
All stories, stitched together,
complete the composition of you.
Many stories matter - yours.
If your life were a book,
what would people read about?
We all got stories.
Share them. All of them.
[they MATTER]
XIII. Making History
Inspired by Chimamanda Adichie's speech, "The Danger of a Single Story."
Originally written/posted: 20181202
poetryofdhiman Feb 2018
the night falls
behind the curtain of the black sky
with a silver coloured bulb called moon
floating weightlessly in the background,
together with the billions of stars
shimmering like the glow-worms.

the clouds fly here and there
with the joy of becoming grey again
leaving behind the dry memories
of summer and sunny days
hoping to become raindrops again
and fall on the soft leaves of earth.

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