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Ghxstcxt May 2
Are you stuck?
Need some help up out that rut?
I can lend a hand to some stuff
sunk under the surface
I don't even need to look
Like pulling up a plug
Don't give up
Never give up
Small steps first
Don't give up
You'll turn your walk
into a strut, trust
'Cause you are worthy
You are loved
Don't give up
TheManInBlack Jun 2022
All I can do is pray for a better day,
But recently all these days just feel the same,
Lost and helpless you might say,
Will make everyone near me ashamed ,
Negative thoughts that need to be pushed away,
All in order to keep my head in the game,
All I can do is pray for a better day,
But recently all these days just make me insane,
Stressed and hurting you might say,
Will make everyone put me up for blame,
Negative thoughts that need to decay,
All in order to keep them tame,
But All I can do, is pray for a better day.
Débijonne Aug 2021
there'll come a day when we'd smile fondly at the hardships we're currently facing.

there'll come a day when we'd completely heal from whatever gave us pain.

there'll come a day when we don't have to feel like crying.

but 'til then, we just have to feel every single emotion and endure the pouring rain.

but 'til then, we just have to accept we're not okay.

because **** it, that coming day is not today.

why can't it be today?
to better days, whenever they may be.
Nathan Smith Jul 2021
How do you tell someone you’ve ****** over many times that you’ve changed and you are sorry?

You beg and plead and make promises you’ve made before
But it’s clear they’ve had enough, and they won’t take no more

You tell them your sorry and buy them gifts.
That’s still not enough friend, their love will continue to drift.

You give them their space in hopes it will make them miss you.
Odds are you never gave them attention anyway, so that’s nothing new.

So what’s the right answer? What else could you do?

There’s no exact answer as there is nobody the same.
It’s also not guarantee anything will work as this is not a game.

You should look in the mirror and try to see what they see.
Put yourself in their shoes and ask how did they feel around me?

This is not how u can help them, their not the ones who need a correction.
You have to fix yourself, make it consistent  until you like the person you see in the reflection.

Truth is you may not get them back and that’s a hard pill to swallow.
If you fix yourself it’ll make it easier to let go, and you’ll be more confident and happier for years to follow.
Be gentle it’s been a couple years sense I made a piece
jcl Dec 2020
The lights
are screaming,
"may the night
doesn't end."

We, too.
When we are
at our best,
we hope to
stay the same.

As the sun rises,
the lights say,
"I will be back."

We, too.
There'd always be dark days, what matters is how we get over those.
Lanna K Dec 2020
My concept of time is completely warped, and for that, I pay no attention to it. Remember when you were younger and a year felt a lot longer than it does now? When you are young, and life is long, there is time to ****, but as we age time escapes us. However, we are just doing laps around the sun.
Bri Aug 2020
a sequence of numbers i have buried in my head. the moment things unbearable those numbers pop into my head
they tell me to hold on. they tell me to see if tomorrow would be better
they tell me to think of the handful of people i would inconvenience with the news of my death
these numbers are always just on time. just right before i tighten the noose
and just before i fix my mouth to swallow the pills I've collected over time
they remind me of the time i held my stomach for laughing so hard
they remind me of the excitement i had to bring my nephew home from the hospital
they help me be hopeful of my future
Sally A Bayan May 2020
Orange and pink hues of sunset
are nowhere...rain pours
trees are talking, leaves are fighting
the violent wind...the shutting of doors
and windows startle...and disturb

no more candle lights on the altar...prayers
have been said, tinged with whispers and
hushed giggles...the tingling of china and
silverware float in the air...the radio is off,
no more worrisome news.....what's left is,

a soothing feeling....the cool wind
makes the curtains dance...a sweet
silence breathes outside my room...both feet are
flexing...relaxing on the bed....waiting for end another virus-stamped day,
the rainy dark comes with a sacred stillness,
we're not over the woods, yet...but, it would be
nice to hear about less, and more:  a decline
in cases, a flat curve...a rise in recoveries...a cure,
a vaccine would disable the claws of the
evil virus......meanwhile, we keep the faith,  
as we wait...and look forward
to........better days...
tomorrow is another day.


Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
May 15, 2020
Zywa Jul 2019
Expats, foreign workers, people
who are stuck, stay and continue

dreaming of a free life
as shepherds and cattle lords
in their own country
of grassy meadows, milk, and honey
the old promise

The young men long
for the beautiful girls
of the north
while they do the work here
in the delta, where they feel at home

in the stories
of the ancient god who created the world
with thoughts from his heart, living
words from his mouth, the Potter
who molded man

that mold their souls, giving some light
when it is dark in their hearts
filled with old ash in which still glows
the fire of the Destroyer
Prince Djhut-mose / Thut-mose (the eldest son of Amen-hotep III) = "son of Thoth" (Djhut) = Moses (in Goshen, the eastern Nile Delta, where he is high priest, in the temple of Ptah at Memphis)

Ptah = Maker (of the world)

El Shaddai = God the Destroyer

Collection “From Sacred Scripts”
Nat Lipstadt May 2019
~for better days for the poet betterdays~

mournful tunes play silently, but still too often,
eyes wet but in corners kept, recurring then the
memories, keepsakes, letters, books, small trinkets,
not dusty, but dusky, resting on in-between ledge of a
mountain-sized twilight of well lit shadowy haziness,
edgy dark brilliance, a comprehensible contrast non-comprehendible

tunes that bless with equal measures of grief,
comforting, by memorable card flashes of good relief,
a dividing line, hazy and frequented crossed, a sort of path,
with no destination signaled, as if the path itself was an end,
to a meaning, a solution, with no clarity divined, a division
of sight and insight, providing an ill fitting reconciliation

mourning is electric, morning is electric,
letters, words bottled up in evaporating perfume bottles,
seeking the comfort of dissipation unto a larger atmosphere,
the scent in everything tangible, stronger still yet, in intangibles
that can erode but never ever fail to return instantly when voked,
by vision, odor, a particular child’s smile, line in a poem volunteered

recovered, uncovered, a post first writ to be written, discovered,
when time and place coincidentally breathe together, at last,
beckoning you to places where memory serves only as a pleasuring,
upright mind marker, decorated in chains perpetual reforging,
absent pain, gleaming dreamings full-replacing longings for pasts,
new verses composed, passing, a grand addition to a child’s legacy
loss can only be tempered, reforged, and ultimately used for our  own betterment when the heart commands, now write!
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