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I know
whom
to call
out
when
I am
in trouble

I know
who
will help
me
through
the troubles

And
why should
I be
ashamed
to say
your
name to all

Ya Rabbul-Aalmeen
The only perfect thing in this world
Is its constant imperfections
As a child must learn to walk
before he attempts to run
So a poet owns the dark
long before he knows the sun

There's a shared fact to our lives
we poets all come to know
The quiet still of the cool night
that gives strength to mornings glow

It is just the way of things
that make us seem so far apart
To miss the heat or the cold
but touch workings of the heart

For whatever  the reason
we are here to make a choice
You see a child crying out
then have to give him a voice

Perhaps it's our fated lives
to give song to the cold din
But life’s a race we all share
and who cares if we don't win

It isn't how fast you run
nor how elegant you look
Think of those who took the time
to leave a mark in life’s book


Tate

Original with music and pictures
http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/aristate/446736/
Set to Etta James version of Cigarette ashes
Living is often like drowning, and sleeping like flying,
So bridges and tall buildings always tempt me.
When I talk about death I feel brave.
I've always hated how recognition can so easily turn into pride.
They say pride comes before the fall,
But I believe that various kinds of self-centeredness are the origin of all unholy descents.
I remind myself that I shouldn't take my life because I didn't give it,
And my heart continues to beat on its own.
Blood doesn't stain crimson red,
It darkens and crusts on the skin.
Everything that is dead becomes only a memory,
Then it disintegrates and washes away, eventually becoming nothing.
I can’t remember anything from before I had the ability to reason,
So when did I come alive?
I wonder if all people valued beauty,
Would there be peace?
Because I sometimes wonder whether Neil Armstrong meant to say what he did as took his first step on the moon.
I think trying is as valuable as doing,
But justification is a dangerous tool.
I am cautious of failure and success;
But count this as my eulogy
A list of things that I am going to say before my untimely death.
*I recognized the world for the canvas it was and I didn't waste my life.
My dreams were my motivation,
And they were fueled by those that underestimated me
I walked streets day and night and prayed that I would somehow run into the girl of my dreams,
and when I finally found my missing rib I looked at her like she was a piece of art that I just couldn't keep my eyes off of.
I suffered and I found its nectar bitter-sweet.
I didn't get the best of life, but then I made the best of life.
I never stopped caring,
my love for the unlovable made me daring.
I trusted too easily so I was always broken.
I always found things to love, but they never loved me,
But despite it, I still loved, hard, even though it hurt me.
I couldn't comfort because I had never been comforted.
After a lifetime of battling myself, I finally took off my crown of thorns.
I didn't let the past get the best of me,
I gave the future all of me.
I hated animosity,
War was despicable to me,
And I always preached peace.
I prayed constantly that my efforts would not be in vain.
I never actually could stop sinning,  but despite my ugly sins, I never stopped straining.
I was not perfect, but I did the best I could.
I never ceased to hear the music.
I still played, even when I felt like I was playing solo, I still played my part in this symphony of life.
My eyes were aimed at the director, and we played through the storm,
We played even when all hell was against us,
We played, and played, and played
Until eternity came through.....
 Jun 2014 khulood aldairawi
r
Rubies glistening
'neath light of the moon
as rabbits feast
and children sleep
'midst dreams
of a strawberry morning.

r ~ 6/13/14
\•/\
   |     Algonquian tribes called the June
  / \    full moon a Strawberry Moon
           because it coincides with the best
           time to pick the fruit. The last  
           Strawberry Moon to fall on a
           Friday 13 occurred in 1919.
           Farmers Almanac
I want to fly in the air,
I want to touch the sky,
I want to touch the height,
Then why?

Why my wings are cut?
Why my wishes door has shut?
Why anyone haven't care for me?
Why?

I want to be something
not anything,
I want to be a good person,
I don't want any other thing,
Then why?

Why anyone is not giving me permission?
Why this is not in their satisfaction?
By all these things
Only one word my mind bring
Why?
Why?
Why?

— The End —