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MoonFlow 23h
Do you know what is backbiting?
It is when submerged in the ocean,
the entire ocean will be cloaked by a vile smell.
And when reigned over the humans' hearts,
all of them will be fragmented.
Never see others deficiency,
Nor talk about their frailty.
And Say NO to
Backbiting.
Allah Almighty has stated in the Glorious Quran:
"And do not backbite one another. Would any one of you like to eat the flesh of his dead brother? You would not tolerate it! "
[Kanz-ul-Īmān (Translation of Quran)] (Part 26, Sūraĥ Al-Ḥujurāt, verse 12)

Please don't reveal the faults of other people. Always protect their honor. Your honor shall be protected too!
Jay May 27
Summon the great wall,
The one made of flesh.

Don't worry if you don't understand:
I'll be your guide.
LC Apr 30
the bittersweet word left my lips
but it kept the other words at bay -
the ones I could never, ever say.
I dragged those deeply rooted words,
pulling them until they wouldn't budge.
I wrapped them in my voice and let them go
until thorny feelings seized my legs
and dug into my soft, tender flesh.
my fingers bled as I separated the thorns.
they shrank, withering into the soil.
and once they did, I whispered, "goodbye"
for the second time, and I was finally free.
#escapril day 29!
Life is not fair, friend
when I am here
and you are not
when you were ensnared
by addiction and desires of flesh
a soul left here to rot

The existing situation is not so great
born of our differences
where we did not gain a scar
knowing love did not spare us pain
moving us forward into unknown embrace
and only served to make us who we are.
you hide under an umbrella made of steel
wincing at the sound of the rain as it hits the pavement

the same sound that I love so well
the soft pitter patter that mimics my beating heart

you cower away from the water, while I dive headfirst into the downpour

I just want you to come dance in the rain with me, that's all

set your steel umbrella aside and play with me for a bit

you and I under the bleeding sky
could it really be so bad?
Patrice A Mar 8
Unravel me.
Plunge your fingers into the depths
of my anatomy-
wade into my rufescent flesh,
strum my fibers,
find me in the fissures
of my ivory bones---
then come back to the surface,
cling to the brims of my clavicles,
and tell me how
beautiful I am.
Lee Aaun Feb 28
i have never tried drugs,
some pills that could make me intoxicated
as i was already high on happiness.
but then i realized,
self love which was the spark
behind my positivity is vanishing.
i was horrified.
it has become a drug to myself
that i couldn't imagine my soul working without it.
my passion needed more doses
of self love, and i couldn't make it anymore.
at that time, i wished—
if self love can be found in forms
of pills and drugs,
then i already would have been intoxicating.
but i never got it.
i thank myself at that time
for stoping myself as sometimes
self love isn't important as long as
you are breathing.
other than your blood, flesh and bones
anything can make you go insane.
so it's better to stay on earth
and stop doing our drugs of different obsessions.
Glenn Currier Feb 27
Above the hardened world I see a cloud
white edges soft but dark pervades its heart
beside the brook a stone so bright and proud
her striking beauty makes her stand apart
I bow my fingers wrap around her waist
I lift her from her lesser comrades there
I touch the smoothness of her face
her sheen and curving lines without compare
I want to take her home with me to keep
I pause and hear the moving gurgling brook
and cast her back into the liquid deep
I hear her splash and take a final look
     And with her loss I feel a tiny grief
     but smile I touched her being oh so brief
My first try at an English or Shakespearean sonnet.
ᴊᴰᴍ Feb 4
Pluck both wings off a butterfly twin,
toss five bones into a black stone cauldron.
Pull three strings of a skeleton puppet,
draw a white circle around a mandolin.
One burning needle, carve into a coffin,
six long shadows swing the pendulum.
A dagger to the chest, weave the mortal flesh,
pierce the embryo outside the yolk of death.
© JDMaraccini 2021
Mark Wanless Jan 29
politics,,,,, start out
something alive,,,,, ****,,,,, processe
sell the rotting flesh
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