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 Apr 2 Vishal Pant
Notepad
Low
You got what you need
Not knowing the cost is me
But gave my soul peace
 Apr 2 Vishal Pant
Tyler
you think you can't
but I feel you can.
I know what it's like
to be human,
it's surprising how
similar each of us
really is
at the core.

I hear you in between
life and death,
hear the words you
won't use around the
ones you will.
I'm not crazy,
I'm what I want to
be within,
when your mind is
more than your own
God blesses us
with his love.
Cloudy Days to Sunny
Struggles in overcome
Joy with Laughter
Surprise in Blessing
Despair with solution
Living no conclusion
Faith with Hope
Addiction overcoming with Cope
Loss Soul entering redeemed
Purity perfectly clean
Pouring spirit
Discouraged being Encouraged
Doubt to can
Will into shall
Let down to Uplift
Hate to love
Declined Health to Robust
God Above All
 Mar 27 Vishal Pant
Taru M
how
 Mar 27 Vishal Pant
Taru M
how
Logic tries to guide me
I slip on fallacies
                                                                                   Intuition releases me
                                                                                   I float unsure
i)

nothing beats kindness
one for gravy stones
all alone


lily smiles,
i thought i might go
through the vowels

but hunger and without
got me..
sometimes

i imagine a world without
hunger
(and what food has become)

ii

once only the rich were fat
a hobby or passion
we eat gold

and try to thin..
the price of an onion
tears are sold

the price a cocked
hat
nothing remains

instead of roundabouts
we might eat
but not

(they might go round
twice
etc..)

and the numbers climb
i heard talk of
trillionaires

they said nothing
remains
what price

a bowl of soup?
i can make one
for one euro..
like a poached egg,
dripping yolk upon her
plate. Painting the plate gold,
like the yellow from a rainbow,
till she’s tossed in the dishwasher
with the folks, knives and saucers.

She's Runny
like a nose drooling
from a cold. Dabbing the tip
with a cotton handkerchief,
till her sniffer looks like a clown’s
fire-engine red and round.

She's Runny
like a watercolor bleeding
in the rain. Swirling blue,
purple and green before she's
time to set. She's ugly,
when she's wet.

She's Runny
like mascara
in black rivulets on
her face from weeping
like the clouds. She looks
like a racoon in the middle
of the afternoon!
Parallels.
Realities
in the
can.
Celluloid
scripted.
Books
fully
formed,
written.
Each
pa­rallel
unique,
one
from the
other.
Story
lines
varied.
Yet,
predetermined
within.
Each
sc­ripted
written
in full.
Books
on a
shelf.
Variations
one from
the other.
Creations
unto
themselves.
Shelves.
Infinite
shelves
full.­
Stories
unique.
Written
so very
long ago.
nearly five years old
my nephew plays
with a stethoscope
a fully functioning
auscultatory device
not just some toy
of unavailing plastic
and purposeless rubber
lost to his imagination
he holds the chest piece
against my sternum
the diaphragm cold
even through my shirt
making me pull away
momentarily
out of instinct or habit
even though
it is not needed
he sits listening
concentration tight
across his brow
with very real concern
as he informs me
that he can't hear anything
that i must just have
no heart at all
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