Song Lyrics
The First Time We Forgot to Feel
The first time I cried,I was a breath wrapped in silence,not shame.A mother’s lap—a temple.A father’s palm—a planet.Even pain had poetry back then.They say, the first time is divine.Unrepeatable.Like the first fire we touched,and learned: it burns.But modern man,he walks through fireand calls it home.I remember the first time I lied—it wasn’t for greed,nor to gain.It was fear—a soft, trembling beastasking me to survive.But the first time we lied and felt nothing—Ah, that was modern.That was industrial.That was branded in chrome and Wi-Fi,and no one wept.The first time we loved—yes, I recall it clearly.Love wore no labels,spoke in clumsy, sacred stutters,hands sweating truthlike a prophet too young to preach.But now,Love comes with terms and conditions.It expires in inboxes,like spam in the soul.We match. We swipe. We ghost.We call this progress.The first time we touched art—do you remember?Finger-painting the chaos of our hearton grandmother’s wall,and calling it masterpiece?She smiled. She knew.But now,Art is a code,filtered in aesthetics,algorithm-approved beautywithout blood.We don’t make art—we manufacture content.The first time we questioned God,He didn’t burn us.He listened.He waited.But the first time we replaced Himwith trends and influencers,He vanished from our eyeslike a lost bookmarkin the holy textwe never finished.And now,we mock what we once bowed to.We drown in debatesand stay thirsty for wisdom.The first time I stood against injustice—I trembled,but my spine remembered Eden.My voice was untrained,but it struck like thunderin the courtroom of conscience.Now?We share a post,forget by lunch,and pat ourselves for braveryfrom the comfort of the couch.The first time we saw death—it wasn't in films.It wasn’t sanitized.It smelled, it wept, it cracked something holy in us.We asked: What lies beyond?Now we ask: How many likes did their tribute get?The first time we kissed—it wasn’t perfect.Teeth clashed, breath battled,but our souls danced barefooton the edge of forever.Now,We kiss like rehearsed lines.We love like we're waiting to leave.We marry contracts,not hearts.I recall the first time I saw the starsand believed they were watching me.I prayed without words.My faith wasn’t a religion—it was awe.But now,We mock mystery.We dissect meaning.We laugh at wonder.Our telescope grows sharperas our vision dims.We are the sons of prophetsand daughters of poets,but we walk like orphansabandoned by meaning.The first time I read a book—not for school,but to escape,to bleed into the inkand come out wiser—I met myself between the margins.Now,We scroll.We skim.We forget.The first time we failed—we cried.But we learned.Oh, how deeply we learned!Failure was a teacherdressed in ashes.Now,Failure is a meme.We don’t fail.We “rebrand.”The first time we heard music—not noise,but soul,something that made the bones weep—we knew we were not machines.But now,Beats without depth.Noise without nuance.Songs with no sadness.And hearts with no echo.The first time we lost someone—it was not just a person.It was a universe gone.We remembered every breath,every laugh,every unfinished sentence.Now?We archive them.Filter them.Forget them.We let death trend and die again.The first time I prayed—I wasn’t told how.I just fell inward.There was silenceso loud,even angels paused.But modern man—he prays for Wi-Fi.For views.For viral resurrection.We traded altars for screens.Sincerity for sarcasm.Soul for sale.The first time I apologized—I meant it.I bled it.It was more than a word;it was humility singing in the ribs.Now?We type: "Sorry if you were hurt."And call it closure.The first time I was alone—I wasn't lonely.Silence was a symphony.I met the stranger insideand he spoke truthsthe world had forgotten.But now,Solitude terrifies us.We fear our own thoughts,so we bury themunder noise and narcissism.The first time I held a child—I trembled again.Life was reborn in my arms.That small weightheld every answer I ever sought.But we raise childrenwith screens,with fear,with deadlines,not lullabies.We are men of ambition,but not of purpose.Women of brilliance,but not of peace.We do everythingfaster.Sharper.Cheaper.But never first—like it matters.Because the first time we feelis the last time we’re human.And I ask you now,dear reader,have you rememberedyour firsts?Or have you edited themout of memory?The child in you still weepsfor the first snow,the first “I love you,”the first time you meant itwhen you said:“I’m afraid.”But we have become menwho wear armor of ironyand womenwho bury love in logic.We are the speciesthat forgot to feel.The generationthat laughs at depth.The civilizationthat celebrates the hollowand shuns the whole.And yet,the first time I wrote this poem—I felt something again.I remembered.So maybe,maybe you will too.
By Muhammad Abdullahabout a year ago in Poets
No Kings Today. Content Warning.
I was in the middle of marketing ideas when I had to write about NO KINGS DAY! I have fractures in my spine which keeps me from attending protests. I wrote because I love democracy! Some folks want to say to me "not another one." I LOVE DEMOCRACY!
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli about a year ago in Poets
