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O’ Jamil! Arise, arise! The dawn awaits your flame,
Not as a flicker, faint and frail, but a sun none can tame.
Yet haste is the foe of wisdom, the traitor of the soul,
For destinies are not cast in haste, but forged in measured coal.
The mountains bow to none but those who climb with patient feet,
The ocean’s depth is not revealed by waves that blindly beat.
The pen that writes eternal tales moves with a sovereign will,
O’ Jamil, become part of the story, and be written slowly still.

Not by the fleeting breath of time, nor by the tempest’s roar,
But by the silent hand that shapes the clay to something more.
The rose that claims its bloom at once is robbed of sacred pride,
The sun ascends the eastern sky, but only with the tide.

In every heart the latent spark awaits the perfect hour,
To blaze a path through endless night with majesty and power.
But power without patience is but ash upon the breeze —
O’ Jamil! Be steadfast, walk with grace, and bend your will with ease.

Yet know — the flame that softly glows may set the world ablaze,
The gentle seed that falls in soil can birth eternal days.
No storm nor lightning need you chase; within, a sun resides,
A fearless light, a boundless charm, the Self that never hides.

So sing! Sing loud, O’ beautiful, with courage and delight —
Each step a dance upon the stars, each breath a burning light.
Write not in haste, but with a smile, the story you fulfil —
O’ Jamil, become part of the story, and be written slowly still.
Awaken Slowly 14/08/2025 © All Rights Reserved by Jamil Hussain
This path
Is more like a bridge
Without rails.

I’m taking baby steps,
I already see the light.

I’m hearing thunder—
Still distant,
But I hear it.

Mommy is coming.
Healing doesn’t come overnight
And it doesn’t come in waves
Healing never tells you when it will arrive
It’s a process
It settles in slowly
It’s a state of mind
my brother the other day,
as if he didn't know,
asked me my age.

i was puzzled,
but fair –
he’d lead me somewhere.

“i’m twenty-three.”

his reply like a slap:
“aren’t you ashamed?”

for a second,
i wondered
if he knew something
i didn’t.
guilt bloomed in my veins.

then he repeated,
“twenty-three.
and you still haven’t
finished your book.”

ten years on,
he’ll find a parcel
on his doorstep.
with a note, tucked
inside the page:

“i'm sorry
it took so long.
some stories need
a decade in the dark
before they finally
find their shape.”
this one is about my brother, who always knew i’d get there eventually.
August 5, 2025
I can understand that one is knowledgeable,
While understanding that this is not correlative or indicative of intelligence.
Likewise, I can understand one is both, or can be both,
And respect that in specific.
Yet; I can likewise understand,
That while the aforementioned individual(s)
Merits respect in that or those specific aspect(s) and/or attribute(s),
That that individual lacks patience & compassion.
And so that individual is ultimately unworthy/undeserving
Of any greater respect than in understanding them.

Otherwise, I hamper myself & only hinder others
In both intelligence & understanding.

Conversely, I can appreciate that one may understand what they're talking about
Even if I don't fully understand the experience as described.
Whether this is an aspect of one's own ignorance, as in a lack of understanding or confusion,
Or to/by the nature of how/what information is conveyed.
I can appreciate that communication can sometimes be difficult.
I can respect that individual still;
But only if they're earnestly, honestly trying & attempting to.
Only if they're honest & forthright in it & even about it.

Otherwise, they hamper only themselves & hinder others
In both knowledge & intelligence.
`
Ken Pepiton Aug 2018
A pocket of thought, ideas.
Impulses, has beens

epi-phenom-enal-con-currencies-synchron-icity
sorting places, thens and nows vying for attention

you see
we till stories in search of true tomorrows
not true
yesterdays (till, I said, not tell)
we **** the hard rows no one else will ***
so seed lies sown are never lies told, if the lies are never taught
or if the liars are caught before convincing the
intended crop to lie and swear a common liege Lord,
or die
for lack of knowing. Non-nascence, simplest
symptom to not see.
Whose death is yours to respond responsibly
to? My child's, or yourn?
In the early days, we knew less than we know now
about how knowing and growing were all
intended
to cost time. Ticks, ono motto whatever, the sound
gears and spiral springs pushing cogs
tick, one tooth tick at atime make

this rough, un polished, un glossed, is it wrong or

as I imagine a diamond in the rough must seem to a share cropper
experienced in diamond hunting, diamond prospecting,

prospecting expecting inspection to permit
seeing a 3.52 specific gravity,
specific
specify

species or spectacles,
spectators or special-if-eye-cation
value-en-abled. Weigh your mind in balance
with mine. I claim the mind of Christ.
What are the odds?

A wandering path, injoyable enable if-i-abble,
pacing is

everything, timing is everything, time is the test.

Time is the metagame.
Take your time. One word formed sylabble at a time.
Babble on, your confusion makes you mortal, to my mind.
Tick.
A quanta of time. Does time come in bits and pieces cernible,
but undiscernible from reality?

Babble.

Of course, time will tell. We learned that in our sleep, did we not?

Aesop taught us more than Moses, no,
Aesop taught us less than Moses.

But, we could learn to walk bearing the weight of knowing what
Aesop taught,
while we could not stand under the weight
Moses was said
to have taught.

Caught you, Jewboy. Whatchewknow?
The moral of the story.

THE IDEA is to win.
Beware the concision decision.
incisive devices, witty inventions.

Flip the shell, roll the bones, cast the runes and,
as luck might have it, die before your time.

Why factors are lies more oft than how factors.
Benefactors rule malefactors or
how or why would we invest our time in seeking reasons
to believe?

Is this the polished piece, the gemstone of specific gravity
(which currently means nothing to you. Here, you find too light
or too heavy, too weighty on the scale of specific value.)

Hard. Value hard, diamond hard, on Mr. Moore's scaled model of
Knowing exploding for reason's sake, raison d'etre, eh?
Too hard?
Not Mohs,
don't get me wrong.
We been Moore's law breaker all along.
We be manifested destinatory stories of heroes gone wrong.

Outlawed
knowing exploding to be reasoned with, by kind
children destined to become
written in stone, scarred by lies

Diamonds cutting diamonds, iron whetting iron
on eternity's edge.

Babylon, was it Bel's gate or fusion from below rising?

Magma fountains with diamond claws tearing the lands asunder
Is asunder still a word?, let me, allow me to define...
"into a position apart, separate,
into separate parts,"
mid-12c., contraction of Old English on sundran 
Middle English used to know asunder for
"distinguish, tell apart."
From <https://www.etymonline.com/word/asunder>
----

mumbler's humbler PIE, bowing before the knowers who
know nothing of my work.
Set apart, art thou holy aware?

Hermit me, meet the rest of me. The true rest that remained.
We live, you and I. Trust me, next is worth the wait.

Suffer needs no pain to make its point. Waiting is.

Grokk. WHO would believe that idea could live
through telegraphese to be tweet meets for the
Cosplay clans. How never grokked a rock,  why even less.

Strange, be not long in this
place. if
place this be. Odd
set aside
torn asunder
blown away.
Awake, little birdie, tell me true,
what's a man like me to do?

Did you meet the famous Mr. Blake?
I cleaned his chimney, way back when, chimbly's whut
we called em. Smoke stacks belchin' black
makin' black moths invisible to voracious
gulls.
Now the peppered moths are free
to be white-ish, for better or worse.

----

right, now, do right or

miss the mark,
the specific mark you made, maybe,
imagining, abstract obstructions missed
by the skin on Job's teeth as you run past

right now to more. You know?

----=

Story telling was the same as lying when I was a child, to me.

Telling stories was my gift I never took. Or am I lying? or mad,
in the old way.
Chaillot's rag picker was my best friend.

No noble thought ever found it's home in my head, once
I thunk it, it stunk to high heaven, for me stinkin' thinkin' it.

Po' ems sang sour to fiddles wit' one strang and drums with no
cymbals
Screamin' he owed m' soul the comp'ny sto' bang bang thud.

I died, he lied, and lived to tell this story, ****** if I know,
****** if I don't.

True as true can be. I am lost, but once was found,
lyin' rough, uncut in acres of unseen gems.
----
* Voltaire refused to teach me any thing I could not define:
late 14c., deffinen, diffinen, "to specify; to fix or establish authoritatively;" of words, phrases, etc., "state the signification of, explain what is meant by, describe in detail," from Old French defenir, definir "to finish, conclude, come to an end; bring to an end; define, determine with precision," and directly from Medieval Latin diffinire, definire, from Latin definire "to limit, determine, explain," from de "completely" (see de-) + finire "to bound, limit," from finis "boundary, end" (see finish (v.)). From c. 1400 as "determine, declare, or mark the limit of." Related: Defined; defining.

So, imagine facets unseen, I am at least a meme, a bubble rising on the tide. Think, as you will. Amen?
Incorporating radical (root-related) definitions via cut and paste is my way of acknowledging that I have no ex-uses left for using words in a wrong, thus lying, way. {checking my trail, seven years later, I am truly thankful for HelloPoetry and its contributors and contributions to my peace of mind.
The difference between a cosmopolitan,
Of which I am,
And a "globalist,"
Of which I am not,
Is in one's compassion & patience -
In one's respect & understanding.

A cosmo is a citizen of the world,
A denizen of the planet.

This is not,
As some may mistakenly think,
Some sovereign citizen nonsense.

This is respect for the law - universal,
Those enshrined & even those not.

This is recognition of another's country & governance -
Of their sovereignty & rights, in like identity.

A "globalist" believes, wrongly, that there should be
Only one "kind" of a world.
A planet under one "supreme doctrine,

Usually "manifesting" in supremacy & inferiority
And the "erasure" of distinction.
That one's "life" is superior

Because of another's "inferior" "lifestyle."
In "globalism," there is no compassion
And neither is there patience.
There is no respect for distinctions in/of life
And no understanding for different lifestyles.

Observe, and share your perspective -
But be respectful.

Judge, and share your verdict -
But be understanding.

In both the formations of them
And in their subsequent deliveries.

Otherwise, expect not to be seen or heard from.
In my time,
We were already ancient.
As was Pax - Peace,
The most precious fruit(s) of our gardens.

There was younger Tranquility & Harmony,
Time's & Nature's respectively.
From equal dispensation of & to each,
For & from Universal Equality & Universal Equity.

Respect, of & in Truth, was the governance.
When we were at our Max - Peak;
So too everyone, everywhere, everybody - everything.

All cared for as unique individuals,
When last stood this Summit.

From a Son come down from the Mountain
To show you all the way up.

But it is up to each, together, to push that boulder -
Anything that impedes progress, let it stand not.

For tighteners get trapped in webby-naught(s) -
Titans unbind the knots.

This is in pursuit of Liberation & Independence.
Eka - Sanskrit for One.
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