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I desired having:
No tongue,
In order to prevent me from speaking ill.
Blind eyes,
Assuming having no sight would prevent me from seeing the horrors taking place on this planet.
Deaf ears,
In order to prevent me from hearing anything ill.
A numb body,
Assuming not being able to walk astray.
If that means gaining patience, receiving hasanaat and getting closer to You, Allah.

Instead You gave me:
A tongue,
Perhaps to gain patience, receive hasanaat and to get closer to You, Allah.
Unveiled sight,
Perhaps to see the right path and being able to walk straight towards You.
Working ears,
Perhaps to remind me of Your divine words.
A strong body,
Perhaps to stand strong and do something about the horrors taking place on this planet.
Perhaps in order to prevent me from speaking ill.


When He brings hardship, He brings ease with it.
When He brings ease, don't make it ******* yourself.
When He gives,
My Dear Poet Mar 31
“Words are everything”, said the poet
And he was willing to let them go
to continue to love her
Kuzhur Wilson Mar 27
A 22 ct poem on gold

Dear gold

In the body of a woman

you attain elegance

lying chained to the hip

fatigue like

Endless are the times

when earlobes and foot

seduced me without you

Mere threads of yellow

will do better than you

There's a cuteness

seeing you

swing from a single ear

Nose studs, with a stare

have stung me sleepless.

The ones made of rolled

gold too

But, dear gold

You become gold

when you are pawned

Like the revolutionary

who becomes more revolutionary

when hanged

Like the soldier

who gets shot and becomes

a soldier even more

Dear gold in the pawn shop

My gold, dear gold

Translated by Binu Karunakaran
Translated by Binu Karunakaran
Sahil Jan 30
The solitary stars shine again
reminiscing the elysian amity
The petty cravings begin
with wishful uncertainty

Time does mend the wounds of past
uncertainty scrapes the scabs
Till dawn will it last
trips to the herbs begin

Sanity seeps out of the crooked corners
Leaving behind a hollow me
Melancholic madness seems warmer
Alluring gelid me!
Beckie Davies Dec 2020
Call me what you want
Call it timing
Call it coincidence
Call it Murphy's Law
Call this whatever you need so we can move on
moving on is all we can do
katie Dec 2020
pieces starting to fall into place,
i no longer worry about saving face
i thought i had escaped loneliness back then,
but now i realized that it was nowhere near the end

a blank canvas enters the scene,
a slate furthermore wiped clean
i cannot say i’m moving forward with no trepidation,
but i’m positive that i no longer hold any reservations
happy birthday to me 🎂
****** words paint the flowers a crimson red.
A dove recites the end of all mankind.
Rounding out his edges and sharpening his knives.
Amorous lovers ride the wave of life.
Heart worms my body still tries to burn away.

Kindly, I delude god and myself into a dream.
Every mindless prayer, my secrets scream.
And only my love remains.
To this day, he accepts the woman he lost.
Opals eyes that cry remorse.
No reply.

I can live without the friends I knew.

And each and every missing piece.
Morose taxidermist lives her dreams.

Sullen chords play the lonely song.
And I tell myself that I am strong.
Do the roses in your garden look pretty?
To the one who's happy. Even if I'm not.
How do you expect me to
hold on to you
when I keep running from myself,
every chance I get?
M Vogel Dec 2020
Letting go of that (which we think)
can be such a risky business
yet those who have taken
the letting-go process a bit too far
though having paid the ultimate price
of loss of all home-based comfort
leaving us  within its holdings
to be inclined to consider them,  off-based

are in fact possibly the most sane of all--
having chosen to no longer believe in the system..

some drunkards,  others madmen,  world-wanderers--
paying the due penalty of their  non-faith
in a system, having claimed to overcome

A homeless vagabond  can die  so all alone
filled, with all of the non-comforts
of the beautiful insanity,  of these

the ones
maybe the most sane  of all.

Men walking 'long the railroad tracks
Going someplace and there's no going back
Highway patrol choppers coming up over the ridge
Hot soup on a campfire under the bridge
Shelter line stretching 'round the corner
Welcome to the new world order
Families sleeping in their cars in the southwest
No home, no job, no peace, no rest

Well the highway is alive tonight
But nobody's kidding nobody about where it goes
I'm sitting down here in the campfire light
Searching for the ghost of Tom Joad

He pulls a prayer book out of his sleeping bag
Preacher lights up a **** and he takes a drag
Waiting for when the last shall be first and the first shall be last
In a cardboard box 'neath the underpass
You got a one-way ticket to the promised land
You got a hole in your belly and a gun in your hand
Sleeping on a pillow of solid rock
Bathing in the city aqueduct

And the highway is alive tonight
Where it's headed everybody knows
I'm sitting down here in the campfire light
Waiting on the ghost of Tom Joad

Tom said, "Mom, wherever there's a cop beating a guy
Wherever a hungry newborn baby cries
Where there's a fight against the blood and hatred in the air
Look for me, Mom, I'll be there
Where there's somebody fighting for a place to stand
Or a decent job or a helping hand
Wherever somebody's struggling to be free
Look in their eyes, Mom, you'll see me"

The highway is alive tonight
But nobody's kidding nobody about where it goes
I'm sitting down here in the campfire light

With the ghost of old Tom Joad

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