DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, the golden: (every word meant)

ONE more year
2022-2023
couldn't he?
is 3sixty five days a bit too much to ask?
the moment of leave
the moment that actually defied MATH
ONE of the all left & gone
Do you know what that even means?
my idea of the improvised life
would've taken another 'responsibility'
would've been revived
ONE that would break
the ONE distorted continuity
And I'm NOT
no I'm NOT
NOT talking
Oh no I'm NOT
talking about some lost lover
what it means is even worse
NOT talking about a parent
nor a Mother
I'm talking about my idol person
my life's mentor
a teacher person
a friend human
I told him:
'you inspire us more than you think'
he laughed it off;
knowingly to its mean
into the blink
of which I always think
he knew
he had to leave again
Again to leave
don't get me wrong
I'm proud you see
but again
To Leave
The left
is our bodies
of 6ix, 7even, & 8ight
BODIES
scattered ahead
heads nodding
Improvising
Improvising
Improvising
that's all we've ever known
AGAIN
to the SECOND CITY we reached a fail
because To the reached
to be reached
is a long gone ship sailed
And my old self reads a paper
for some advise to be 'preached'
erasing the once To be reached
DO YOU KNOW THEM FEELS?
the ONEs ought to the golden trumpet's week?
I am weak
define my feels
I don't want to seem
TO BE nagging
but please tell me
DO YOU KNOW THEM FEELS?
the ONEs when you have to press ******* DELETE?
DO YOU KNOW THEM FEELS?
that I've had to thrown in a matter
of ONE alone sick year?
Again to fly
To look up to the SKY
after ONE meet's high
on a February's lie
upon the April's subside
& ONE which June
aimlessly
ironically
denies
DO YOU KNOW OUR FEELS?
DO YOU KNOW MY FEELS?
Dreams get lost
Dreams get crashed
Hearts get broken
Hearts backlash
Reality seeps in
Reality back stabs
I know no control
talk to me
about a stash
about a future
a plasticity
one which I refuse to be
yet I see you
you see
we observe each other
our harmony
long time
in no see
my humor withdraws
the purple room
haunts me
wooden blocks
shatter
me & the latter
our intermediate selves
splatter
cleaning tables
we ate on
we gathered
ONE YEAR YOU SEE
I'd like back my FEELS
of the previous
one, twos, & threes
STILL THE TABLE IS NOT CLEAN
tea 56 times a day
I drink
I swallow
violins know how to play
sad feels on display
follow your follow
out of my head
out of my lane
out of bed
everyday
to the shadow in the wall
I kinda pray
anyway
don't wait for us
don't wait for ME
I suggest we continue
Improvising
my friend
acting that way
(you see)


                                                          ­                                  ------ravenfeels

DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, I just lied to myself for a while:)

in you, in me, in us
this roof under the dust
I come to say I come to find
that to me, to myself I have lied
somethings are dwelling
becoming too much I'm questioning the act of selling
selling my paper words from hell
with a bow tie all wrapped as if feeling well
books mock me as if it's another world & all
when in fact the sun is cascading its shadow on the wall
the resentment in me could never deliver
& I wonder my sanity of head & liver
the resentment in us could never betray the kind
yet the betrayal we continue to allow in the mind
retaining what has been buried
is a lost dream I am worried
my ankle is healed but I'm still jumping on one foot
so what is it being alive? even if I knew don't know if I would!
therefore I came out of the prison tower
hence amusement never shook me in the hour
I imagine the streets are mine
for me to go back to the life of time
for I couldn't get past
what I've missed & the joy that didn't last
it's in the trickles of firm lips
it's in the darkness of road trips
radio silence & it seems AGAIN
some failed expressions denying experiences would never end
no harmony in what I see
just spurts of selfishness & jealousy
oh & I hoped for their wry smiles
even those, march to ghost until they die
coldness comes to dry on doors of mine and
for irritation to have a voice then it would be silenced
where to throw the blame? never my thing
we throw it as a hot potato & it just stings

                                                         ­             ------ravenfeels

DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, I-IV-'22:

on that table
four arms shook, double faking the illusion she stable
or is it a matter of strive to be crippled, disabled?
a hold on for the called dear life, inhibit the verb able?
yet life is not the content it holds in a cable
otherwise a single stumble would be fatal
& them feels embraced
are all the things that you shall face
on that table
struggling to bare the meaning it labels
but for the mind of mine
reasoning a reason is not a define
yet the feel in the moment it roots for it fills
& like a child & like a breath after her ****
despite papers scattered upon seals of nature
some lines stand up to nurture that wooden creature

                                                       ­                                 --------ravenfeels

DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, AGAIN------ just my everyday life:


wake up not like before
feels on listed chores:
breathe
eat
walk
talk
laugh
cry
happy
dance
sad
drink
read
bored
write
sing
think
paint
sleep
dream
forget
Again­

                                                                          ------ravenfeels

survival mode Liban
the logos of the statement just like any other
some curse it like it's some occasion
maybe it just needed a vocation
instead of the maybe
so the intelligence of its diction comes at cost
that one of its mind jailing mine
the ability of writing today is the lack of writing tomorrow
why does it have to be
for the words
to be a hostage
of the momentum of a pen
the golden age of today for me is the golden age of tomorrow
again with the maybe
or maybe not
already noted a 'useless' spot
the older I get the smaller I feel
from the exposure to the lots of the real
the younger I was the bigger I felt
from here
from the bubble of the lots of the real

                                                           ­                                -------ravenfeels

DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, who's watching me now?: I'm not liking the capitals:)

I don't like people seeing me think
I feel exposed----
to the lots
of the knows
It's like they're reading my mind
they're reading my thoughts
It's like they're reading my lines
they're reading my poems
It's like they're reading my rhymes
they're reading my tone

But I know that they're not watching
it's just a mindless look
But I know that they're not
when they can't see behind my lots
But I know that they're not
when they throw off comments
shooting their shots
in ******* me off
in slaughtering nods
in not ending with dots
in being a being of a being bot
& confinement is their knot
when their tongues are off dirt
& a look is now a flirt
& the means to being humane
is one luxurious walk in a desert
& the question is an alert
gotta be sane in here by effort

Who's watching who?
Who's watching me now?
You have to be reserved
or else you pay for the blurt?
Get yourself onto the lane
or else a doom of an inert
so 'go ahead,
I support dancing :
just not under the rain'
sorry you'll stain?
so go
go
go
go compose yourself to the knows
drink your tea
keep it nursed
do it all
all rehearsed
die of life
die of thirst
don't count me, me don't assert
me no insert
in your park
in your scene
in your perch
Go get your tickets
go buy your theme
to that seat
to that concert
of the so called dream
                                                           ­                                ------ravenfeels

DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, in different shades...

Life
an acquaintance
since January
sought me in its life
for the temporary

Diluted from the lover trance
in its shade I bathe
in happenstance
I pass it
to fade
in a feverish crowd
like a breeze of ghostly remembrance
dumped by the hustle
by all these sounds

We meet silently
dividedly
appointed to exile
sometimes we regret
the rivalry in piles
of overlaid cement
with a nonchalant style

It seems so
when our tired shadows
glimpse at each other's forms
then resume to go

Blocking the inseparable
what a theatrical element
clueless detriment
clueless sentiments
to the flow
not to a ruler's measure
or an on-guard show
------------------------
I guess we've always known


                                                         ­                                   ------ravenfeels

DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, herself to be on a quest<3

a foot behind the other about to leave
loneliness drums for the view yet to be believed
about a hug in foot a broken bridge kills
for the other arms to take the hint as a drill
woke her up although in her mind still
since the double life she pursues is not even half filled
he stood facing the ear that won't listen
that one the dream won’t truthfully forbid and
took a leap to the window pane
that old one the one disguising the upcoming refrain
this time herself to be on a quest along her demeanor
some blinding rage won't save her without a screen intervener
like tapes of the past are piecing
like some pride displayed upon eyes reigning
now her mind is self doubting
unreasoning then shouting

                                                                                         ------ravenfeels

DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, that May ****, for this May birth:)

into the walk
of an empty talk
to the truths of the blue
& the holds of that hue
yet aimlessly
with the ones who planted me
yet anonymously
as if not once it was me
it is still
eventhough I'm existing without paying the bill
keen
scared of some '******' spleen
again I become
a foretell I welcome
for the chimes to ting
& the walkdown interrupted by a ring
like the one of the pathed light
except there was a flight
of every single emotional wheel
indistinguishable from them those of the infamous feels
& I seem to foget!
so remember what was, is, & will be dealt
upon this eye
the twitch of it in the blink of the lie
the man of the glance
not giving a double chance
of the one with the mystery, hence
so I go back to where nothing makes sense
    
                                                           ------ravenfeels

DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, for M.H.K. :)

I sat
startled by the dead rock
talked to its wind, responding with a nod
chatting:
I suppose people out of date
out of stock
been looked at so questioned
what should

a promise I shook
hands with to keep for
good, to keep for worse
already knowing the door handle if the
door stood up for a logical force

for the familiarity to
pertain, individuality speaking about protectiveness of a sword
I suppose myself aware of purple
leaves in certain
to keep the looped
downfall, truly to the word

flipping through leftover
meals to minds sold
experience essenced of trailed up
thought after the show
footsteps pressing footsteps to
the underworld living for one
demolished, two-thirds to go

                                                             ------ravenfeels

DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, 16-X-'23 : 6.52 : if prevailness is a word>

I like the cold
It reminds me of myself
Of the real
The sun is a delusion
To our goodness
Its shines in sake
Yet
Then
There comes a time
Where I've realized its coldness
The cold
Diminishes from the idleness of life
Life itself
It discloses its true value
Its diligent matter of cyclic deviation
Its formation of natural consequence
By default of reality
Its season of fault
To the guilt of less effort
Or so you think
The Mother is not there to just be there
Nor does it splash its heavy loading
Some container of water in excess
It's a thing of conscience thought
A concern in its being
A prevailness in its giving
Upon a hope
An aspiration
Of it not going in vain
I understand the diligence
Yet
I don't understand
I can't comprehend the likeness of the sun
Nor its goodness
Does it have to be the one
Who does the giving?
......................................

                 ­                                                                 ­           ------ravenfeels

DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, this is an edited part of a very personal poem:]


only for the ones I am trashed after
only the liars that fastened in no shameful laughter
my chases that bleached me to sours
finished my mercurial hour
to an inexplicable remorse
the change in me is forced
got me on strings of trust and beliefs
for my sorry kindred heart to swallow the bate and keep
got me on barging crowds to resent
did I even know you till a sixth of ends?
got me on the hinges of misses for abandoned hates
jealous much to take and form for the exquisites late
for what do I owe this misery of a pleasant live stream of death?
for the endless end of final breathes
got me on the unwanted for the want
and the disbelieved for the believed
and the unloved for the loved
the untrusted for the trusted
the friendship for the misery blended
for the grounds to tear me up in shreds and pieces stark
to hurt the lights out of the darks
don't even think that my blood comes to your feet
last noon became my breath of free and the birth of me
got me on the hit of an awakening slam for the whisper of the mind to relinquish flames and hidden fakes
of these ****** masked stakes
not just from you you other do I get my means do you see
don't try answering me
as usual your silence reigns to the hear
and me alone is batter so far
I can draw stars


                                                                                           ------ravenfeels

DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, it's not a word, but I use it : so it is :>

would you in an ever
think deeply till death?

would you in an ever
know how to terminate your breath?

would you in an ever
remember the houred reality?

would you in an ever
live whatever the calamity?

would you in an ever
speak it all knowing it's madness?

would you ever
in an ever
of an ever
of the evers
think deeply till death?

would you ever
in an ever
of an ever
of the evers
know how to terminate your breath?

                                                        ­                                   ------ravenfeels

DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, freezed not a word:>
_four year old poem alert

can I leave
although my returns can’t handle mistreat
choking on the shields that they reveal

the stack is packed
the thoughts are hacked
and my acceptance to the fate is verging on stance

do I sore free for the sake of my flee
and redeem the escape
of the torturous bleach under my feet
or do I abandon my daemons of feels
and scratch a sinful crime of a resentful scheme

the ties are secured
and the doors are uptorn
my legs give up to the shore
and I stand up to no more

the search is at stake
and time flicks with no shame
but the place is not here to be faced

the venture is trapped
in a venging mishap
the yellow is freezed to an uptown
and everything becomes diseased to drown

the green uptakes
and the lakes create
an explode of scents
in the middle of no ends
in the ashes of the questionable whens

                                                          ­                                  ------ravenfeels

DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, how many journals do you go throughout the year?

he fades
for real this time
I'm losing sleep over myself
not over him
over his rhymes
if I can prove his existence in my brain
I can't
it doesn't even exist
even if it does
still not the same
his effigy is one for the flames to eat
and for the bridge to burn
on my poems his body lays
a skeleton my feet passes in between
thoroughly
between the lines standing in the way
dust coming back to follow me
with no second thought
or maybe just one
one thought between me & myself
how many more journals can I go through?
through which I go out of throughout the year
through which I go out of thought about cleaning up
some fear
of this dust from all over my poems
so give me back my poems
the winters that went away
those are mine to keep
to show them
until the last page
of it
of it all
and don't read them
because then you'd have to call

                                                           ­                                     ------ravefeels

DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, not what you think....

knew the dark before
never knew how dark it would get
the watch of every window
getting closed on itself, or so they let
in the corner watched
feet hitting the ground, like some time is set
only few let the ground
not swallow their view of palm, let it not regret
can't get the night out of this
nor can the night take this back, not in bet
not in hack
the connectedness relates to its memory
and the memory of connection won't forget
it's packed
the street knows the corner heavily
yellow to its eyes, present of the verb met
for a self-meeting with the color of teal
to be lent
does one know how to cry?
from a different angle, from a perspective sent
secrets play the end
silence seated on a bench, funding its debt
and then, you realize
what you know is the threat
to know the dark in core
to know how dark it would get

                                                            ­                                 ------ravenfeels

DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, may MAY (as usual) ......

& YET, I BET
yourself would be the 'second' worse you have met

I have a wish
a wish that wouldn't make me a fish
I want to escape that bowl
only for three months whole
then get back through
& I won't mind staying into
because I have seen the dream when I couldn't
& now I know even though if I shouldn't
I shall be stopped by others
yet I shall not stop me or bother
I know I demand a golden wish
yet my life is haunted by a fish
(& the dwell on 'yet' ends to begin)

the problem is that it's not only in the other shoals
it's that it's in the sea overall


                                                                                            -----ravenfeels

DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, normally I'd leave the leaf to the breeze....let the breeze know that IT I CAN SEE.

If you'd know me
you'd know my eyes won't deceive
If you'd know me
you'd know my mouth won't retrieve
If you'd know me
you'd know sun, moon, & leaf
If you'd know me
you'd know how much I'd grieve
& that's the problem of knowing me
it's always trying & trying
& trying to understand
something that my words,
sometimes my look
would silently demand
trying to understand
WHERE
does the amount of
concern come from
so that the grief grieves & becomes
something of a demeanor
trying to keep other people's reflections
in my memory a print
something of their unbeknownst complaints
they don't know
about any of that
their oblivion makes them
make less of themselves
themselves in their mouths to churn
making less of my mind out again
in return
yet they do sense of me doing it
but doing what exactly?
they'll never know
but they'll keep on trying
trying to know
so only if they'd known me
only would they might
might get a little stolen steel
a little insight
all in all
they'd never reach me
they'll never find
I prefer to watch the leaf fall

                                                           ­                                 ------ravenfeels

DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, it is the leap of the known knows of the unknowns:)

be the wither
be the pain
I've written the
wholes of
that one pathed tenth trench and
paced lane of an ever
a ten a twelfth of three sixes
an ever
again, I'd come to come
through in neat shall
the pleasure of today is the same of the
pleasure
of that year

now come
my memory into the eye
onto the foreseen
one through an eye

for the written to them shall
burn to the past to
commit lie
draining my pen
onto the forges
of day in
sublime tortures
dimming my life my tent swallowed by
a fox
a god's a falcon's a once sought
eye

so trace my words I write
here I write have written today for
they shall be past of some lesson of
a mean just the same tell
them to read tell them to listen well
indeed for a poet's riddles shall
trick and deceive tellers the
tortures till moons till
the one till of hell

                                                                   -----ravenfeels

DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, 25-X-'23__5:01<=

Interesting to know
Not necessarily to show:

The human essence
Is an octavian star
Branching upon its definitive
Existence
One which we proudly
Ignore the infinite's branching
In its shadow we linger
Finitely standing
Lingering as if we know
What color it beholds
Some decorative spectrum it loathes
To be blinded by white shadow
Of the branched light
Adjacent below
So what we know
Is one of a show
In which we name
In which we smoke
The shadow we bathe
The shadow we soak
The grave we dig
the grave we loathe
Call the barrier danger zone
Call the barrier freezing snow
Explain to me
Define your thoughts
Define a territory you claim you bought
Meh
Who am I even to sought; (?)
Display your colors
Display your coats
Calling ashes your most trusted troops
Hiding under those seven loops

                                                                                            ------ravenfeels

DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, draft#something=

what they knew later
was what I've known from before
& what I've wished to know later
was there wish to have never known
  
                                                  ------ravenfeels

DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, draftz:;;;;;;;;;

I aspire for the horizon of hope
for hope itself
for it
I hope for the best
still the best itself
I am not aspiring for
I shall wish for it
aspire for it
yet shall I not live it
shall I see it from afar
yet never the to-be engrossed
in the mist of it
in the midst of it all
because
the moment of the fall
of the horizon into a sky of whole
the full picture of the reached hope
of the so-called they call
(let's say I call it a pit hole,
according to your missed time)
with that
I won't know how to breathe
in it within
in it anymore
it would be the crash of dreams
the mist of the fatal breeze
the one of free
the midst of flee
the place to be
but I know
that it is not
not even a to-be close
for this being for me,
for the shackles of the horizon
remains a reminisce of its remains
the talked about antiquity delivering past trace
a once past trail
that would hail
the almightiness of me
the above golden flee
of authenticity
upon the inauthentic gleam
so if the verge shall I see
shall it be
the ****
the death
the doom
of me
if it shall be the homogeneity
of some picked up pieces
from the heterogeneous scene
the one that created a place
a sphere
a haven
the raven's nest you see
then the question I attest
is the one lingering behind
for what I've wished
to abide
was for the best
so to the one who differentiates
a 'conscience's voice'
where does that turning point locate?
allocate me, d'accord?
from your grave
                                                           ­                                  ------ravenfeels