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Seth H 1d
get back up brother

men we fall, we break, we hit the ground
but what are we made of?
strength that isn't ours
get back up brother

I won't let you die this way

it doesn't matter how hard, or how many times we fall
if someone is here to pick you up or not
there is only one answer

get back up brother

-----------------------------------------------

For those
who fell and no one's around
to pull you up
every day is the sound of death
calling your name
every voice in your mind is
saying you're broken
unfixable
every word spoken to you
you're hoping to hear one bit,
"I hear you, I see you, I love you, I'm proud of you"
but instead,
"hey how long until you're done with __?"
or even
silence
the whole world rejects you
the universe set itself against you
The Creator is Set to Crush You

but with muscles tight
and clenched teeth
and flooded eyes

you say,
I
Will
Not
Die
Like
This

O Jacob
O Israel

Wrestle,
& do not
ever
let
go.
and to you sisters as well! Dearest women of resilience! Love to you as well

May we always have a friend or stranger to offer us a hand when we are down
My Goddess divine,
I have stumbled yet again.
My Goddess wise,
Fallen for a mortal gave I.
My Goddess blind,
Is it just for I to love?
She is a beauty,
Yet, she sees not the beauty in she.
My Goddess strong,
Grant me the same strength,
So I may protect her as you have protected me.
My Goddess, my angel,
Look upon me with favor.
For I will need these blessed days,
To learn from you,
And so I may love her.
A prayer from the rain and sunshine.
Austin Jan 29
I don't want to be down, but my heart is too heavy for my eyes to look up

I don't want to be found, not by others but, I'm hoping I can find myself
and
I don't want to be loud, because the ones that are, they don't often look like us

I don't want to be me, as a child being seen not heard, as a black not seen at all
and
As a man that bleeds, with scars that cry, and scabs that call for help that's not coming

I want to be proud, but of me I can't, I don't know what to be proud of
and
I want to be free, and I have the key to these chains, but these burdens start to feel like hugs

I hope you're praying for me, I hope you're praying for me, lately it doesn't feel like enough

I hope you're praying for me, I hold my hands in the dark, my feeble heart is searching for (what?), can you keep praying for me ?

I pray you're telling the truth, lately it doesn't feel like enough,

I hope you're praying for me

I hold my hands in the dark, my feeble heart is searching for love

Nobody's praying.
I'm back writing after months of not doing it.
I am lucky.
I am luck.
I am loved.
I am love.

I am joy.
I am joyful.

I am laughter.
I love to laugh.

I am grateful.
I am Alive.
I am Dead.

I am blessed.
I am a blessing.

I am Enough.
I do Enough.
I give Enough.
I have Enough.

I love to dance,
I dance to live,
I live to love,
I love to bless,
I bless to laugh,
I laugh to love.

I am lucky for this Universe that I have been blessed with.
Another from Reality Sandwich
TheJhondelion Jan 22
My ill-filled mind adrift on winds ethereal,
Hopeless, I muse on my own burial.
I dug six feet in foreign lands immemorial,
As ruminations run wild, rabid, and feral.

Imprisoned self, reborn as antisocial,
Past cohorts are now strangers, fantasmal.
Depressing illusions intensify suicidal,
Knocking on doors of the heavenly celestial.
Yet kneeling at the pulpit feels nothing special.

Words misunderstood, deemed uncolloquial,
Unbothered to learn, It's deemed impractical.
Learning the language they use in their imperial,
To make my plea resound consequential.

๐’ฉ๐‘œ๐“Œ ๐’ฝ๐‘’๐’ถ๐“‡ ๐“‚๐“Ž ๐“…๐“๐’พ๐‘”๐’ฝ๐“‰ ๐’ป๐‘œ๐“‡ ๐’ถ๐“ƒ๐’ธ๐’พ๐‘’๐“ƒ๐“‰ ๐‘”๐‘œ๐’น๐“ˆ ๐’ท๐’ถ๐“ƒ๐’ถ๐“!

"๐‘ฏ๐’‚๐’“๐’Œ! ๐’๐’๐’…๐’†๐’ ๐’ˆ๐’๐’…๐’” ๐’‰๐’†๐’†๐’… ๐’•๐’‰๐’š ๐’ƒ๐’†๐’”๐’†๐’†๐’„๐’‰ ๐’‡๐’๐’“ ๐’„๐’–๐’“๐’†,
๐‘ญ๐’๐’“ ๐’•๐’‰๐’Š๐’๐’† ๐’”๐’๐’–๐’ ๐’Š๐’” ๐’๐’ ๐’‚ ๐’”๐’•๐’‚๐’•๐’† ๐’๐’‡ ๐’‡๐’†๐’†๐’๐’Š๐’๐’ˆ ๐’–๐’๐’”๐’–๐’“๐’†.
๐‘ป๐’‰๐’š ๐’”๐’†๐’†๐’Œ ๐’‡๐’๐’“ ๐’„๐’๐’–๐’๐’”๐’†๐’, ๐’‚๐’๐’… ๐’๐’๐’•๐’‰๐’Š๐’๐’ˆ ๐’†๐’๐’”๐’† ๐’Ž๐’๐’“๐’†.
๐‘พ๐’‰๐’Š๐’•๐’‰๐’†๐’“ ๐’•๐’‰๐’๐’– ๐’๐’๐’†' ๐’ˆ๐’๐’…๐’”, ๐’๐’๐’๐’š ๐’•๐’‰๐’Š๐’” ๐’•๐’‰๐’š ๐’‘๐’“๐’๐’„๐’–๐’“๐’†.

๐‘พ๐’Š๐’๐’• ๐’•๐’‰๐’๐’– ๐’๐’๐’• ๐’‚๐’๐’”๐’˜๐’†๐’“, ๐’•๐’‰๐’š ๐’”๐’Š๐’๐’†๐’๐’„๐’† ๐’‚ ๐’Œ๐’๐’†๐’๐’?
๐‘จ ๐’˜๐’‰๐’Š๐’”๐’‘๐’†๐’“, ๐’‚ ๐’”๐’Š๐’ˆ๐’, ๐’Š๐’ ๐’•๐’‰๐’Š๐’” ๐’”๐’‰๐’‚๐’…๐’๐’˜๐’š ๐’„๐’†๐’๐’.
๐‘ซ๐’ ๐’”๐’•๐’‚๐’“๐’” ๐’๐’ ๐’๐’๐’๐’ˆ๐’†๐’“ ๐’‰๐’†๐’†๐’… ๐’Ž๐’๐’“๐’•๐’‚๐’ ๐’…๐’†๐’”๐’‘๐’‚๐’Š๐’“?
๐‘ถ๐’“ ๐’‰๐’‚๐’” ๐’…๐’Š๐’—๐’Š๐’๐’Š๐’•๐’š ๐’•๐’–๐’“๐’๐’†๐’… ๐’ƒ๐’๐’Š๐’๐’… ๐’•๐’ ๐’•๐’‰๐’š ๐’‘๐’“๐’‚๐’š๐’†๐’“?"

For endless ages, I wait in vain,
Enduring this stone-hearted disdain.
Forsaken and lost, your silence profaneโ€”
An eternal ache, my solitary refrain.
This poem explores themes of despair, isolation, and the search for meaning in the face of divine silence. It embodies a deeply introspective and somber tone, reflecting the inner turmoil and sense of abandonment. The tone is gothic and melancholic, with a distinct sense of frustration and hopelessness. The musings on mortality, the futility of prayer, and the feeling of being unheard give this poem a tragic, almost existential quality.

Plagiarism Notice: This poem is an original work by TheJhonDeLion. It has been submitted for plagiarism checks to ensure authenticity. Any resemblance to other works is purely coincidental. If you find any similar content elsewhere, please notify me immediately.
That this morning we wake up.
And you give us a small ray.
That we keep in our pockets -
throughout this year, this week, this day.
And that when we expect it least,
The ray slips out
Onto those who need it most.

Taking each breath
You now see
What the eyes will never show,
There - a smile,
Here - a year;
clearing out a space,
for yourself-
Lighting the bonfire, heating the hearth-
Light it and
Wait,
Breathe-
And pass the warmth, the glow
to the withered eye, bones and souls,
seeking refuge
under the mighty toll of
The Great Turn.
Hey-**!
From Reality Sandwich newsletter, Reality Bites
pink blossoms โ€“ in the forest of thoughts; I seem
so lost. as a storyteller, I must have consumed a library,
every day is a memory of all that youโ€™ve learned, and
the scriptures on your skin of the Word

where true prophecy reigns โ€“ the taste of oneโ€™s future
rains, watering faithโ€™s garden. you beautiful tragedy,
making blissful mistakes โ€“ life hurts and stresses you
out with heavy thoughts of tomorrow, that you seem
too scared to even let down your hair; it's an anchor

yet in these pink blossoms, any piece of hope blossoms
like a blush on your face โ€“ when the slightest beauty
smiles back at your worried faceโ€ฆ weary child,
go and pray.
I stand in front of a stone library
that once held great knowledge therein,
but stands now empty under skies dreary.
I whisper a prayer for our sins:

Please, Lord, let the children who follow us
grow wiser than we ever were.
Let them yet be the loving kindness
that we have signally failed to confer.

I doubt that they will ever forgive us
for this fallen world that weโ€™re handing down
thanks to all the blind disservice
by leaving little but ash on the ground.

Before us all stand two stone gates
each leading to diverging roads:
The one leads to our visible fate
while the other fate overthrows.

Please, Lord, let those born in these days
choose the path of the unknown
instead of taking the road that behind us lays:
They shall our foolishness swiftly outgrow.

What few blessings I may pass on to you,
O dear reader of the futureโ€™s present,
I give you freely in hopes of a new
rebirth in a world without end, amen.
Inspired by this photo I took of the Gothic Library in Potsdam: https://bsky.app/profile/jackgroundhog.bsky.social/post/3lfzgvhjnck25
In the name of God, I rise and soar,
Oโ€™ Lord of mercy, I seek Your door.
In royal nectar, Your light I sip,
Guiding my heart with every dip.

Oโ€™ Sustainer of souls, Oโ€™ Source of grace,
I answer Your call, to run my race.
Through fields of bloom, my wings take flight,
In Your name, I embrace the light.

Oโ€™ Most Merciful, Oโ€™ Compassionate One,
In Your love, my fears come undone.
With every beat, I feel Your hand,
Guiding my hive at Your command.

Oโ€™ Creator of bee and bloom,
In Your garden, thereโ€™s no gloom.
Grant me wisdom, pure and clear,
To lead with love, and not with fear.

In Your name, I hum and glide,
A queen, yet humble, by Your side.
With every drop, I find my power,
A gift from You, my sacred flower.

With every beat, my wings unfold,
In unity, our story told.
We serve in love, we share in prayer,
Our hearts entwined, Your mercy there.

Oโ€™ Nourisher, Oโ€™ Keeper of light,
Guide me through the day and night.
Let justice reign and mercy flow,
As through Your wisdom, we gently grow.

Oโ€™ Source of sweetness, pure and deep,
In Your embrace, we wake from sleep.
A thousand hearts, a thousand lives,
Together in Your mercy thrives.

Let my reign be kind, with wisdom bright,
Reflecting stars that shine so light.
In every flutter, in every prayer,
I am Your servant, everywhere.

In the name of God, I soar and sing,
A queen, a bee, on golden wing.
Humbly I serve, in love and trust,
In You alone, I place my trust.
A Queen Beeโ€™s Prayer 05/01/2025 ยฉ All Rights Reserved by Jamil Hussain
Days drift toward oblivion, as existence bears down upon the cosmos,
consuming us wholeโ€” we are a titan sculpted from the remnants of
lost souls, thriving in a vineyard of despair. These obsidian cherry
desires, weeping with the rain, and these lips, forged from the same
flesh, cry out in fervent prayers. โ€œLord, give us this day,โ€ we plead,
yearning for the sustenance of daily bread. In the shadow of poverty,
joy fades into silence; in sorrow, we hear the haunting echoes of our
shared lament among the trees. In the pools of our sorrow, we gaze
upon untainted skin, the glimmering droplets mirrored in the water.

A miracle bestowed is akin to the sweetness of a first kiss; delicate
and fleeting โ€” as we love holding our breath in anticipation of
another, yet failing to voice our true needs. Yet, life wears us down,
gathering us like discarded clothesโ€” material smiles; we have
devoured the richness of our cherry desires, leaving only a handful
of barren stems in our wakeโ€”had you not sought instead this Daily
bread?

But what does daily bread signify for you โ€“ the clinking of coins, the
allure of wealth, the visage of another, their utterances, or the depths
of their emotions? Could it be that what you seek is not the bread that
nourishes your soul?
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