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Sunset kisses,
the ocean’s skin.
Orange light cradles,
in the waves' arms.
And the sky’s darkness,
finds a home,
in the ocean's heart.
Wish to see it someday, in reality....
 Jan 9 dead poet
Traveler
These are the passages
of eternity
A translation beyond
right versus wrong
The questions of life
bear no relief
nor answer
While the raging heart
beats on...

Inherit the burden
of forgiveness
Your belonging
has tied your hands
Join your heart
to the universe
Heed the true call
of human.
Traveler Tim

No thank you proseletyzers
I once was blind
Now I can think for myself
 Jan 8 dead poet
Nameisis
in love we are eternal
and our flesh will never know decay
 Jan 8 dead poet
Traveler
I’m glad my hell is my hell
and I don’t have to live through your hell also…
On a positive note
may we all be blessed!
TT
Compare yourself
at finish of day
with that when
you rose at dawn-
in what way
has your resolve changed
or are you disappointed
with what you did
during those demanding hours?
Were you let down
or did you fail to give your best?
Are you regretting now?

Of myself I can speak
too high goals I don't set
my limited talent I acknowledge
competing is not within my league
only quietly I do my level best

when the sun sinks
in the evening
I don't despair or regret:
my duty I've discharged
I'm satisfied, content and glad
towards the next morn
I'll set the same modest target.
'Tryna get to sunny Californy' -
Boom. It's the awful raincoat
making me look like a selfdefeated self-murdering imaginary gangster, an idiot in a rueful coat, how can they understand my damp packs - my mud packs -
„Look John, a hitchhiker'
„He looks like he's got a gun underneath that I. R. A. coat'
'Look Fred, that man by the road' „Some sexfiend got in print in 1938 in *** Magazine' –
„You found his blue corpse in a greenshade edition, with axe blots'
April doesnt hurt here
Like it does in New England
The ground
Vast and brown
Surrounds dry towns
Located in the dust
Of the coming locust
Live for survival, not for 'kicks'
Be a bangtail describer,
like of shrouded traveler
in Textile tenement & the birds fighting in yr ears-like Burroughs exact to describe & gettin $
The Angry Hunger
(hunger is anger)
who fears the
hungry feareth
the angry)
And so I came home
To Golden far away
Twas on the horizon
Every blessed day
As we rolled And we rolled
From Donner tragic Pass
Thru April in Nevada And out Salt City Way Into the dry Nebraskas And sad Wyomings Where young girls And pretty lover boys
With Mickey Mantle eyes
Wander under moons
Sawing in lost cradle
And Judge O Fasterc
Passes whiggling by To ask of young love: ,,Was it the same wind Of April Plains eve that ruffled the dress
Of my lost love
Louanna
In the Western
Far off night
Lost as the whistle
Of the passing Train
Everywhere West
Roams moaning
The deep basso
- Vom! Vom!
- Was it the same love
Notified my bones As mortify yrs now
Children of the soft
Wyoming April night?
Couldna been!
But was! But was!'
And on the prairie
The wildflower blows
In the night For bees & birds And sleeping hidden Animals of life.
The Chicago
Spitters in the spotty street
Cheap beans, loop, Girls made eyes at me And I had 35 Cents in my jeans -
Then Toledo
Springtime starry
Lover night Of hot rod boys And cool girls A wandering
A wandering
In search of April pain A plash of rain
Will not dispel This fumigatin hell Of lover lane This park of roses Blue as bees
In former airy poses
In aerial O Way hoses
No tamarand And figancine Can the musterand Be less kind
Sol -
Sol -
Bring forth yr Ah Sunflower - Ah me Montana
Phosphorescent Rose
And bridge in
fairly land
I'd understand it all -
Death of the pen...

Confused words...
In a matrix of letters...
Scattered anxious...
In a silent hymn...
For morning birds...
Grieved...
For the loss of its fragrance...
And its melodies...

So the pen died...
And the heart of the pen's owner...
And the pages flew away...
Empty and blind...
Without a path for it...
Sad...
For the death of the pen...
And the pen's owner...
Who was...
All its refuge...
Nourishes it...
With the food of letters...
And words...
To dig between its lines...
The taste of love...
And the healing...
For everyone in life...
His heart ached...

The pen died...
And it's owner...

Hazem al ...
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