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mohammed-n-razavi
INTO THE DARKNESS The night so dark Even the shadows have gone into hiding The horizon has gone to sleep Mountains have disappeared And time has stopped We are the slaves of our own imaginations You and I Does time even exist And for what and why, yet We are the slaves of time Will you know when the future has stopped And the time has died As you did And you both step into infinity Into that dark nothing A non-existence M. N. R. 27 MAY 2026
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7d ago
May 27, 2026 at 4:16 PM UTC
INTO THE DARKNESS
THIS IS INSANE PART 2 Questions! A reflection that was my self We walk, under the dark sky Lit bright with the stars of the universe Without end Quietly Nowhere, is the center of the crossroads For if you stay there You are exactly nowhere That is stupid, and deep I think though, I plead My reflection laughs At my self You think? Yes, every day, Always the same topics The same thoughts The same outcomes On an endless loop Because we are afraid to change our minds Or learn something new Afraid to be alone, with our new self M. N. R. 20 APRIL 2026
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Apr 20
Apr 20, 2026 at 6:06 PM UTC
THIS IS INSANE PART 2
THIS IS INSANE , part 1 I looked into the bottomless pit Into the darkness without end I saw my own reflection Myself, from which I was trying to hide We are not what we are supposed to be We are something that we makeup Not that it matters much We pretend This is how the game is played Reality is only a fantasy Future is the history we make up As we go along I laughed I must be mad I have no feelings I only react as I am programmed to Our feelings have been programmed By us, by our culture, by our upbringing Though we say otherwise Not true, but we pretend I could change my mind But I won't Call myself sane So as to continue with my insanity We play by the rules When there no rules We follow the rules Because we are told to Can''t change our minds So as not to be called insane We are not really free Are we? M. N. R. 18 APRIL 2026
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Apr 18
Apr 18, 2026 at 2:37 PM UTC
THIS IS INSANE , part 1
IN THE NAME Curtain falls Darkness takes over The night It feels like silk Against my skin It is not night at all Dark sun has risen And shadows They have come alive To walk about And talk in whispers No one here to hear The stories from beyond Where life ends And the forever begins M. N. R. 09 FEB 2026
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Feb 27
Feb 27, 2026 at 7:21 PM UTC
IN THE NAME
***** LAUNDRY In the middle of the floor Lies a pile of clothes ***** unwashed Like a body Without a soul What we make of ourselves When we lose ourselves When we lose our souls Before death takes over What do we hold so dear I am like you Always counting my winnings Who cares what all that we have lost Along the way Time to move on And find closure They say I laugh at myself To myself The pain You will forget it soon Get over it, they say But it will linger till the day They cut off your clothes And drop them on the floor M. N. R. 02 MAY 2021
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May 2, 2021
May 2, 2021 at 8:50 PM UTC
***** LAUNDRY
Hey What you look for In the corners of your past What you thought would last Forever, didn't last Hey What happened To the dreams We dreamt big Bigger than life itself Just never had the time Got too busy Dreaming big Bigger than life itself Hey Did you find What you were looking for Or Are you still looking for What to look for When you go looking for In life We go in circles Of dreams And nightmares Or the dreams become those nightmares We had nightmares about When we had dreams M. N. R. 31 MARCH 2020
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Mar 31, 2020
Mar 31, 2020 at 8:00 PM UTC
HEY
INTO THE ABYSS 49 INTO THE ABYSS 49 Here I sit at the crossroads, everything is still, even the time doesn't move. Who cares, I have lived ten thousand years, I have lived a hundred lives, you get used to the human vagaries, the lies and pretensions. It is life, it doesn't mean a thing. We live a lie, and after our death our lies are affirmed in our obituaries and our eulogies by those who knew us little and those who finally found some love that never existed. A drunk and abusive father is remembered as hard working and loving family man, a drug addicted woman becomes a loving, caring and doting mother. Who cares, truth was never a strong suit of humanity. What will you be remembered for, it doesn't matter anyway. In some other realm, in another dimension all is forgiven. Only if we could forgive ourselves and make peace with the one we refuse to admit ever existed. Self is too proud. It is not the ghosts that haunt us, it is reflection in the mirror that keeps us awake, it is the "what if", if we have enough intelligence to admit our losses. From beyond the walls of now, I hear my own cries, my lamentations, I tug at my chains, to escape my hell, what if, what if, what if. What does it take, to ease this pain, another shot of whiskey, another Xanax, another nameless **** another transgression against my SELF, to forget myself, to forgive my sins. What next my friend, are we going into nothingness, or do we try it all over again, until we are perfect, until we are prepared to become one. Hell may not exist, but the time is real, it is the punishment, it is enough punishment just to remember what we could have been. M. N. R. 08 OCTOBER 2019
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Oct 8, 2019
Oct 8, 2019 at 8:11 PM UTC
INTO THE ABYSS 49
INTO THE ABYSS 49 INTO THE ABYSS 49 Here I sit at the crossroads, everything is still, even the time doesn't move. Who cares, I have lived ten thousand years, I have lived a hundred lives, you get used to the human vagaries, the lies and pretensions. It is life, it doesn't mean a thing. We live a lie, and after our death our lies are affirmed in our obituaries and our eulogies by those who knew us little and those who finally found some love that never existed. A drunk and abusive father is remembered as hard working and loving family man, a drug addicted woman becomes a loving, caring and doting mother. Who cares, truth was never a strong suit of humanity. What will you be remembered for, it doesn't matter anyway. In some other realm, in another dimension all is forgiven. Only if we could forgive ourselves and make peace with the one we refuse to admit ever existed. Self is too proud. It is not the ghosts that haunt us, it is reflection in the mirror that keeps us awake, it is the "what if", if we have enough intelligence to admit our losses. From beyond the walls of now, I hear my own cries, my lamentations, I tug at my chains, to escape my hell, what if, what if, what if. What does it take, to ease this pain, another shot of whiskey, another Xanax, another nameless **** another transgression against my SELF, to forget myself, to forgive my sins. What next my friend, are we going into nothingness, or do we try it all over again, until we are perfect, until we are prepared to become one. Hell may not exist, but the time is real, it is the punishment, it is enough punishment just to remember what we could have been. M. N. R. 08 OCTOBER 2019
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Part 8 What are we A puff of smoke A breath of air A beat of heart What are we Is what we make Of ourselves That sets us apart I push through the crowds Elbowing my way Going past Going fast To where nothingness Is all that there is Finding life In death A reincarnation And rebirth of that old soul M. N. R. 15 JULY 2019
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Jul 16, 2019
Jul 16, 2019 at 3:26 AM UTC
Part 8
SNAKES Yes We have the power To destroy And the power To self destruct If we chose Of course a power not used Is no power at all And the power used to self destruct Is still power indeed And that is where Power of self control is paramount Where the power of self awareness matters (Are you aware) Have you ever used your power To self destruct Have you ever used the power Of self control It matters still In matters great and small When you use that power To control others And then the revolt follows And the power used to control others Swings back at you Like a snake Unbound Hisssssss M. N. R. 15 MAY 2019
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May 20, 2019
May 20, 2019 at 12:02 AM UTC
SNAKES
11-88 It is the beginning of the end Where dreams come crashing All those brave facades When they start to crumble And I do a double take At the ashes left behind me The storm has just started I see the dark clouds that rumble No it is not mine A death by a thousand cuts It is called life, full of surprises It is so called life, that makes one humble No, I do not seek The punishment or take vengeance I keep my smile and I know When a tree falls, or a castle will tumble Yes there are signs in my voices There are signs in my words There are signs that I see Each time I stumble M. N. R. 26 MARCH 2019
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Mar 26, 2019
Mar 26, 2019 at 6:48 PM UTC
11-88