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image how wonderful this
our world would be

if peace were to rein
on earth eternally

all of mankind living in
harmony

truly an ideal vision
of tranquility
Hey Dear Soul,
Are you lonely too?
Come, come here
Sit beside me
Lets feel lonely
Together
...


("..++.. = ..++..")

...we are one baby we are one...

("..++.. = ..++..")

...
i told my friend,
it wasn’t like that.
we said — agreed —
this still wasn’t a date.

then you sat down
with a coffee,
making me forget
every careful phrase,
every non-confession
i’d whispered to my mind.

we wandered the city
until sundown,
as if we didn’t know
every corner of it.
and when the night
started to settle,
i offered you an out —
you had plans.
you just smiled,
waving them away.

neither of us knew
what we then began.

because i told my friend
it wasn’t like that.
but now i’m not sure
what i was trying to defend.
this one’s about the kind of almost that lingers longer than it should.
July 25, 2025
 Jul 28 Ben Palomino
Nosy
Writing my life away-
Like a play-
That won't stay-
Although it may-
Feel like that for now
I know deep down,
I'll be okay
 Jul 28 Ben Palomino
Pho
It knocked
softly
a breath at the door
but I
bolted the windows
and swallowed the key.

It came wearing warmth,
but I mistook it
for fire,
for teeth,
for grief with a new face.

So I fled,
faster than joy
could reach out its hand
afraid it might feel
like home.
The joker
in the deck
The jester
holding court
The witness
at my trial
The voice
— of time itself

(Dreamsleep: July, 2025)
She was drawing,
not for anyone.
Not even for herself.

Just…
  because her hands needed to move.
The pencil didn’t ask for approval.
It didn’t perform.
It just followed
 whatever was humming
  beneath her skin.

I’ve seen someone dance
 in the middle of cleaning.
Not to music.
Just to rhythm.

A private conversation
 between body and gravity
     where
      I was only
       accidentally
             invited.

There’s a holiness
 in the movements people make
  when they don’t know they’re being seen.

Not holy because they’re beautiful.
But because they’re untranslated.

They’re not trying to mean something.
They just are.

I’ve started collecting these moments.
Not in pictures.
Not in notes.
Just
  in the place behind my ribs
  where wonder stays
  when it’s too quiet to name.
 Jul 26 Ben Palomino
nivek
winged assassin Mr Hawk
beautiful and deadly

another Dove bites the dust
feathers plucked, no more flying

another poet for 'peace'
voice fading

all the children starving to death
their storytime ended.
Dandelion seeds grow
to fly away with the wind—
and see the sky once.
I have this image in my head of a dandelion seed in the sky. So, yeah.
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