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How do you express it
when you
don't know what it is?

the feeling that you're missing out
but always included in.

crying here
but quietly
not wanting
the neighbours
to hear me

how do you express it
when you don't know what
it is?
The depth of my heart is tired, and my soul is flooded with grief and pain.
No where to run, no time to cry, just swallow and shove it down again.
Being in this constant state of confusion on high alert,
somedays we are your everything somedays your destruction, it becomes a blur.
You don’t want your freedom, but you don’t want me. You think you do, but you only want the version that’s make believe.
How many times have i sat on this porch swing to contemplate. But my head is so jumbled the thoughts i cant even separate.
My brain stuck somewhere between disassociation and trauma induced anxiety. Not sure how to shake loose, do I fight or do I flee?
some days I feel like I’m stuck on pause unable to be free. By the time, I finally decide will there be anything left of me?
I feel a little bit lost today, wandering through the passages of my mind i got stuck in an alley way.
I sat trembling staring at what i have left of you. Sweet Precious memories i don’t often sift through.
Because there i get caught in the aged sun faded edges of what we had. A lifetime of love moments, treasures, the good and the bad.
A million times i ache as i yearn for your comfort your advice. no need to pretend you knew the I’m fine lies.
What would you think, what would you say? Im so sorry i wasted so many of our days.
I wish i could hear your voice, feel one more warm embrace. See the unconditional love shining from your face.
I mourn the moments you should have shared. The grandchildren who should have known that much love and care.
Someone who always showed up, who loved you even when you were wrong. It doesn’t seem right that the days just keep moving along.
So here i sit surrounded by the memories and it makes me sway. I just feel a little bit lost today….
 May 27 Thomas W Case
Sarayu
On the land of discipline, we made fun by breaking barriers one by one.
We gathered for fests, not for lectures.
Still passed exams -  future protectors!

Wandering canteens with zero shame.
Assignments done on the deadline’s name.
Where 5G slows and signals fall, friendship's network stood tall for all.


GeeksForGeeks is our holy book ,A prof’s rare smile? The ultimate prize.
We chit-chatted in loops,
Nested fights sparked by "you’re not right!"

Projects bought from nearby stores,yet real ideas came from our mental cores.
Even as records laughed in our face,we printed outputs with silent grace.


Now in a world where ChatGPT thrives,our bond stays real.
No AI can match what we define , A friendship that's purely tech-divine.


Debugging life, line by line CSE hearts forever in sync.
#friendship #engineering #bond
 May 27 Thomas W Case
Bardo
Like a lot of Irish people born back in the 1920's
My parents came from off small farms down the country
Usually their parents died when they were very young... just teenagers
When the parents died the house was usually left to the eldest son
And when he took a wife then the other siblings would have to leave the house
They'd usually have to go live with a cousin
There wasn't much work in those days, there was an economic war with England
And there was no social welfare either, no government support
People often had to emigrate to England or America, they had no alternative
My mother went to live with some relatives
And to learn dressmaking
One of her brothers though had gone off to America (the U.S.A)
He sent her a letter and told her to come over to America
That it was a great place, there was plenty of work and great prosperity to be had
She went on one of the old Liners/ ships that used cross the Atlantic in those days
She probably saw the Statue of Liberty in New York harbour
She loved America, she told me a funny story once about how she liked to eat bananas
There mustn't have been bananas in the shops back home
Or maybe they were too costly
She got a job in a biscuit factory Nabisco, on assembly lines
She couldn't get over the big medical test they gave her before she started
And then when she went to work she said she was working with people who were half blind
She loved going out with her girlfriends to the dances, there were lots of Irish over there from back home
They'd have parties, celebrations, go to the beach, go to the movies, eat out
It was the 1950's, a time of optimism and growing prosperity
She met my Dad over there and they started dating
She got this lovely grey fur coat, probably as a gift, a present
It was like something you would have seen Marilyn Monroe wearing
She loved going to the movies and reading about all the big movie stars
My Dad though wanted to return home to Ireland, he was getting homesick
So they returned home, Ireland was still a poor country then
Hadn't opened up to the world and allowing foreign companies in
There was still a lot of unemployment and finding work could be hard
At first my Mom used wear her lovely grey fur coat to Sunday Mass
But she probably received a lot of funny looks as if to say
"Who do you think you are, a movie star with your big fur coat, some rich *****"
Very soon my mother's fur coat was consigned to the wardrobe never to be worn again
When she passed away my two brothers came down to the house, they were telling me I should get rid of all her old clothes, they then seen the old fur coat in the wardrobe
"Oh, there's Mammy's old fur coat, you should throw that out as well"
I was looking at the coat and it reminded me of the old Red Indian movies
Where they'd be sleeping with a big bearskin over them
I'd taken to sleeping on the couch in the Wintertime in my TV room where I also worked as it was lovely and warm
I said to myself "No! I'm not going to throw that out, I'm going to use that as a blanket over me, it's like a big bearskin just like the Indians"
One day at work I was telling some of my work colleagues the story of my Mom's old fur coat
I was embellishing the story a bit
Instead of saying I was using it as a blanket over me
I said I'd put it on sometimes as it was lovely and warm
One of my colleagues was shocked by this, she said "What!! You wear your dead mother's fur coat !!!
I smiled a funny smile and said "It's a bit like that old Alfred Hitchcock film, isn't it ?
Yea!...  ******! LoL
My mum once told me that her own mother before her had been to America (the USA), that would have been around the turn of the century (1900's) which
would have been only a few generations removed from the time of the Famine (1845 -1852), makes you think.
 May 27 Thomas W Case
nivek
a zig zag road
******* in knots

switchbacks
dead ends

a long straight
into the distance

one foot
then another.
I carry a hum that was never even mine—
It's nested behind my own teeth just pacin’.
It twitches within the folds of my thoughts.
And slips into rooms that I have no place in.

The face in the faucet, it watches back,
Not accusing, not kind. But still in my sight.
Waiting to see if I'll either blink first,
Or just admit I’ve been sleeping upright.

There’s a dark ritual in my own pretending.
Though the stillness isn’t staged at all.
I’m not rehearsing the way that I'll answer.
These questions, I just hope that they never call.

The lightbulb that hums, sick of carelessness—
And sick of flickering knowing I never mind..
Even my own shadow has memorized,
The way I don’t breathe, act, or move right.

I fold my hands up in the wrong directions.
I acknowledge nonexistent people with words.
There’s comfort inside this cold dissonance,
Like that perfect chord that's too broken to be heard.

Time doesn’t pass me; it floats or reruns.
Moments just drip right back to no form.
I stir up the air just to prove I exist,
Forget why I did it, then stir up some more.

The consequences? I can't say they crush me.
It’s different than that—it’s odd, and so patient.
It’s like taking the breath that never finishes,
But insists trying again, now knowing it's forsaken.

People like to ask me how I look so tired.
I wish I could answer with a diagram,
Of how feeling nothing can cost everything.
Or how much it weighs to not know who I am.

I don’t want forgiveness, and I don't need saving.
I Don't even truly value status or wealth.
But I’d value not having to constantly carry,
This overgrown stagnant absence of myself.
adoration
deep love and respect
I adore you and
your creativity

passion
strong and barely controllable emotion
I am passionate about you
and your way with words

fondness
affection for someone
I am fond of you
and your smile

tenderness
feelings of affection
I have a tenderness for you
and your ability to
bare your soul to me
I hope there never comes a time

When the blackness in our minds,

surpasses grief and sorrow.

When rage begs not, to be contained.

And sadness no longer cares about tomorrow.

No longer cares, the circumstance.

Making good men heed the witching hours call.

When souls are lost,

and honor falls.

And love is just a word.

Once heard,

But a feeling no longer remembered

at all.
If you stand on the edge to long a fall will eventually come.
And it really doesn't matter if you jump, slip, or are pushed
the result is the same.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Arthur Benjamin Franklin: my Unca Artie, my favorite. A High School football star, known as Red Franklin, he was famous for his dark red hair.  He used to chuck me into deep water at Chrystal Pool to terrify me for 5 seconds, then hoist me onto his broad shoulders.I suspect I was his favorite too.  War came and he had to go.  I cried and cried on the herringbone patterned bricks at the train depot in Kelso. I have a v-mail he sent to my mom, his sister, dated 1942.  He was a belly gunner on the B-17’s that  were flying the area where Rommel was fighting.  He brought my sis and I back little leather suitcases, tooled in wonderful designs by a skilled artist somewhere in the orient. I still have it.  A treasure.

Grover Cleveland Franklin: My suave uncle, joined the Navy in WWII and became a deep sea diver. The kind that wore those heavy suits with the big glass bubble head.  He helped detect and destroy mines around battleships.  In doing that brave work he lost his hearing and came home as a lip reader for most of my childhood. I was always  a bit suspicious because he seemed to read lips so well. He even got written up in the newspaper because he could sing while putting his hands on a phonograph and feeling the vibrations of the music he couldn’t hear. We kids would always try to make loud noise behind him but he never once reacted to it.
Many years later I learned that he confessed that his hearing had gradually came back.  He was a hero nevertheless.

About their names: Both being born in North Carolina, back in the 1920’s it was common practice among the country folk to name sons after famous people.  I also have another distant relative named George Washington Franklin. I love having hillbilly DNA.
So proud of them. Ordinary Americans who did extraordinary things.
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