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Kelly EC Apr 2015
Sing me to a different place
Smooth phonation,
Give me space.

There's not enough room here for my thoughts and me.
Will I ever be content in this reality?
Left Foot Poet Jan 2018
<!>
inspired by a conversation with Maira Kalman


******* a name, adopt a persona, let my fingers do the talking,
place the instrumental sharp point tip upon the blankety blank paper,
maestro baton raised, coordinating,
the first sound, the vocal chords trembling,  
the first thought, the ultrasound image, entrance of a first violin,
coalescing into, into the initializing single primary phonation,
the stinging geometry of chance at last,
throwing  down the gauntlet, glove slapping, and the
tendons tense, the mouth opens, release and indentation,
a letter's curvature, a black and white downward stroking,
a sign is televised, revealed and released

a one way only sign

time bends knee, gravity suspended, terror morphs to
expelling rapid firefights of imagery needy for spacing,
even pauses mid-word  leave just this:

where is the in in
intimate?

are you the in in
inmate,
or the jailor at the gate?

you swear never again

until committing once more,

a sentence commutation, by committing a first sentence,

and the greater toll taken and paid for,

and the in in in-nate,
questions your sanity

happily


<•>

9/17/17 10:55pm
Known stranger Mar 2016
Staring at the ceiling in the dark, with a  hope to see a view filled of stars. I've dived into dreams and drowned too deep that now its difficult even to differentiate between day and dark. I begin the story again today, even as the winter winds have been warning me on not to bring new bugs into my brain. Years of care was cursed by a single ring and now left me to find my own cure. 1

All the announced amendments altered already and that sunny warm day,was  when the rings were exchanged. My feet followed to a new home, found a new soul to share,  and a new person to live with.! Tears filled eyes but a hope for a better life. It was another moment when my parents smiled though i had tears dropping down.

Shining everyday in a new way, making every move a moment to memorize with love. We were singled out for laudation, as were pointed to be the best couple. I almost started to forget my home, my parents, my people, and my life, as the new life had not the better ones, but still could trivialize my past off my mind.


And one day everything changed, began phonation, and further filled odiousness, words crumpled and feelings grumbled, all our love and hatred jumbled, loath among us silently aligned to outburst, and with a sudden pounce all the pandemonium proliferated and conflicts growled.
"i never loved you actually, just was forced to" that words owned the same tears just as the ring did once. i know i couldn't reply, but i really wanted to.


pulled a bag to the shoulders, and lugging it out, i thought of all the smiles, and all the highness, that kept me blind throughout our relation, just a dangerous drug had dragged me inn, chopped me up into little pearl pieces and quaffed me up.  frustration frowned, pique at peeks, woes worsened, i couldn't resist and after great toil to control i throbbed my handbag against his head, running drops down my eyes still. He swept me off to the ground with a single slap, and recollected not to apologize but for another shot.


clutched my chin and spoke, warned that he would wing me to hell. clenched my neck and spoke, notified that i could be dead soon, seized my legs and spoke, leave me or leave your breath, and banged me down. Even before i hit the floor i knew, i can never imagine a life without him, a life without breathing would be preferable.


splash*
I was in my room, behind the metal bars, holding me from the rest of the prisoners. thinking of the day, i stabbed a knife against his heart, then i knew he would die, i felt the pain, my heart weighed high, but i also knew, that if i left him alive then at that moment, he would **** me, but i wanted to live, at least to let the world know that i can still stand, though i fell down, I've had enough zest to stand back.

his blood ran through my hands, eyes widened and drowned for the last time, breathing deep and deeper, mouth opened wide and wider trying to catch a breath, forgot to fight back so i fastened to faint down.

I did wake up at the hospital, with few police men around me guarding. They call me '308', I didn't knew back then, but what they meant was that I committed a ******. Recollection of memories started in my mind, yet i couldn't cry, as tear sacks emptied already, wasn't exactly fear but love,

Yes, love that hated myself, love that wanted him, love that loved him, love that wanted me dead, love that boosted pain, love that murmured death wishes, love that broke, love that stroke a mother on seeing her baby for the first time, love that hit a father on his daughters marriage event, love that waved a brother at the end of the game, love that brought mid night ice creams to a sister, love that now kept me in crying, weeping actually.

I screamed ******* the hospital bed, and was immediately tied to the metal bars attached to the bed, pain was all I could feel, love was still fading in from nowhere. I know I love him, I didn't have to prove it to the world, but I have to accept the bitter truth that I killed him with my ****** hands, and suddenly from the heavens, a wild laugh in the room broke my pain and silenced my tears, it took me long enough to realize, when the doctor said "Oneirophrenia", the laugh was mine, I was crying inside, but someone above me was laughing out to the world.

I didn't know what was happening, I was weeping still, but physically it was called laughter. Couple fortnights passed, and the judgement " seize until treated mental illness, by the Indian penal code 308 considering mental depression of the convict ".

Prison is nothing new, as my heart was seized long ago, when the knife pierced through his flesh, as well penetrated past my soul. Later few years, again a new brightness, a sunny day, a glittering sunlight filled my eyes, my parents took me home, and fed me all that I loved, they thought I've forgotten all my past, I'm a new man. But the truth there was no difference in me, I was weeping and still crying the same in me, but back then I was physically laughing and smiling as if everything were alright.

Years later again, a young boy visited me at the charity, where I now stay, after loosing my parents, and asked me if he can have my story narrated to him.
I warned him "its a sad one", he reassured that he can take it all, no matter how sad it goes by the end, and I began.

Staring at the ceiling in the dark, with a  hope to see a view filled of stars. I've dived into dreams and drowned too deep that now its difficult even to differentiate between day and dark. I begin the story again today, even as the winter winds have been warning me on not to bring new bugs into my brain. Years of care was cursed by a single ring and now left me to find my own cure. *2

---------------------------------------------------------
Kno­wn stranger❤
www.anoldstranger.wordpress.com
After hearing to her story I didn't know if I really had to rub my tears off my eyes, cuz' they were worth much more tears than I had. Her life however was not a great one, at least hope she has a happy ending...with smiles :)

www.anoldstranger.wordpress.com
Johnny Noiπ May 2018
Manners of articulation
Obstruent
    Stop
    Affricate
    Fricative
     ­   Strident
            Sibilant
Sonorant
    Nasal
    Approxima­nt
        Semivowel
    Vowel
    Vibrant
        Flap/Tap
        Trill
Liquid
    Rhotic
    Lateral
Occlusive
Continu­ant
Airstreams
Egressive
Ingressive
Ejective
Implosive
Nonexplosi­ve
Lingual (clicks)
Linguo-pulmonic
Linguo-ejective
Percussive
See also
Articulatory phonetics
Aspirated consonant
No audible release
Phonation
Place of articulation
Voice
Voicelessness
v t e
In phonetics, a stop, also known
as a plosive or oral occlusive, is a consonant in which the vocal tract is blocked so that all airflow ceases.
they told me
      witches were scary &          .
      ugly so I
wanted to       =      **** witches;
they                                               told me         prostitutes                     were
                 *****
so I wanted to               .              .                           
    ­                        **** prostitutes; they weren't         .        .          ***** at                   all but they can                    get expensive  .
I heard                *****                .      .            wer­e easy so    .      I wanted to
  .                     ****                            *****; they were too easy I didn't want to **** them           after I saw them
                     literally                         **** every guy they knew including me
I never            wanted     .                .                   ­          anything       .        to w/                       as more people become poets & start reading & listening to poetry everyone will realize computers
can't write or speak in poetry computer                     s have no sense or
                                       expression        computers a fad & a hoax
             mothers,   .              .       daughters,              .      ­        .    sisters or moms but when I go out to
.              get                               laid  AI is                                      *******              
     psuedotechnology
that's all there were what the                Front Central Back
Close
Blank vowel trapezoid.           used to call pseudoscience
•iy•ɨʉ•ɯu•ɪʏ•ɪ̈ʊ̈•ɯ̽ʊ•eø•ɘɵ•ɤo•e̞ø̞•əɵ̞•ɤ̞o̞•ɛœ•ɜɞ­•ʌɔ•æ•ɐɞ̞•aɶ•äɒ̈•ɑɒ
Near-close
Close-mid
Mid
Open-mid
Near-open
O­p

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