In times of trouble, I find poetry fills a void.

Mental health is an inevitable aspect that will take a toll on us in these trying times. I share some poetry inspired by it:

I feel and I know how important it is how I feel.

So many tremendous, beautiful, copious people yearn my words.

Fantastic. My big beautiful eyes see how collectively we bend our essence to quote on quote defeat the ‘du jour’ lesser of evil.

In the process I see transformation.

A cocoon.

Perhaps consequence of one too many dystopia novels.

The lulling that has been, ever present, and the husk of a once-was that actually never-was.

A buffoon.

The righteous bolstering of proper monstrosity preferred over crude morality and the faint echo of some aspect that will deem any bearer unworthy of pointing.

I’ve always frowned on those in lala land when all along my hopes and expectations were perhaps a lala land of their own.

New perspective make full circles a spiral.

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