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TIZZOP Dec 2020
today, sir, is the day to say thank you
and my way to do so, ermh --
is to write you a poem
i don't know about your past but your

knowledge of mine is vast
you knew me better than my parents
and you spotted the real me during our therapy never said my "father" that he

was proud of me -- but you did, you revealed in me the true kid because you have the gift to lead people to the place where their truth is; most people join the rat race, but you always kept the same pace and you

made it to erase my shame, healing people is what you're here for, reliable and faithful, and regardless of any writer's fame: YOU HAVE A NAME... an inner flame of kindness glows in your soul, you released me from my

blindness, and you helped me dealing with my tormenter: cole, i never felt that you played a role, i sensed you are whole, may god bless your four daughters, and i wished YOU had been my father, but thats fine: cause you

became a father figure, and soon i figured that your goodness makes you richer than a person owning millions, i do thank you a billion times for being
a mirror who is speaking, at our first session i

shivered, but hid it, you opened me, and noted nothing down, you just listened and saved me from drowning
each letter is for you, each word proves my gratitude how can you have this attitude? how do you do this?

im not idealizing, yet, you're my idol, cause you taught me bout my anger, that as a child, i never had a man as a rival, i had lost my destination and you were my arrival

Fakhri Khalik, you were my arrival.
You stopped my denial.
You are a huge part of my survival.

You are my arrival, I am your disciple.

Forever Yours.

ry Nov 2020
It is not that I have the urge to run away,
I just have the urge to run toward anywhere but
where I am.
Sequoia has called my name for lifetimes now and
I have ignored it’s siren song for far too long.

Emotions are like stepping stones.
Some are loose and long to be unearthed
while others are stubborn, jagged, and lingering.

In Sequoia, the trees are to be trusted.
Their reliable roots grip deep into mother Earth.
She holds them, limp and twig, leaf and bud.
I long for a trust like Sequoia.

Part of me is still in Oklahoma, my dorm,
shoving on shoes that will never fit.

My body is in bed,
but my mind is on an Arizona highway
searching for my soul in the blatant sun.
My mind is on a Montana mountainside
staring at the sprawl of an ancient glacier.
My mind is in my childhood home
combing through dusty boxes
for pieces of my mother before the divorce,
In New York, the MET, Gogh’s self portrait,
Illinois, Round Lake, 4th of July 2009.

My body is in bed but my mind is in Sequoia.
The trees are bigger than my ego and
The wind is nothing Oklahoma, it’s slow.

I think Heaven left a piece of itself on Earth;
I won’t tell if you don’t.
Prabhu Iyer Nov 2020
Nowhere to go, no place to reach, no
path to take, nobody to please; No
journey to make, no pilgrims to seek;

At clearing in the wood and all of a sudden:
nothing to discover, nothing to unlearn; No
secret to uncover and no night to unveil;

Nameless junction where all paths meet,
and all of a sudden we know
the truth, was there all along: with us, it is us

season of renewal, when the leaves
drop baring the soul of the woods,
the night casts her cloak and the skies wink

Nowhere to go, no place to reach, no
path to take, nobody to please; No
journey to make, no pilgrims to seek;
Douglas Greene Oct 2020
Running low on benevolence
Waiting on a revelation
For life to be more evident
Just wanting an explanation
Life is confusing :/
Norman Crane Sep 2020
Wronged figures encircle the world. Saturn's
rings of martyrdom expectant beseech
God, The pain we suffered in your Name, return
it from beyond our graves. With vengeance teach
our torment to those who made us suffer!
Impale their bodies on bolts of thunder,
Black bones and roasted flesh, they are but slurs
against Holiness. Tear them asunder!
And for us, the white robes of salvation,
And words of eternal comfort: Patience
and faith in the Lord of all creation,
whose rewards in Heaven will be immense.
All the hurt you have borne shall be lifted,
Through Him, foreverness is gifted.
Inspired by El Greco's 17th-century painting of the same name, which was in turn inspired by the Book of Revelation 6:9-11.
preston Sep 2020

Aw ****,  another apology
for what it is she hasn't done
there's a coat,  wore
a done, done--

one,  never to be undone

And she'll wear it, yet can't share-it
but with something like this
it can't be helped
but, to share it

It is every where.

They say they care
so why in the ****  are you  pulling
out all your hair.
Maybe they just don't care
about anything
but what it is  you'll wear

so they don't have to.


She scratches a letter
into a wall made of stone
Maybe someday
another child
won't have to  feel  as alone
as she does
It's been two years
and counting
since they put her in this place
She's been diagnosed

by some stupid ****
And mommy agrees.
Why go home?
Why go home?
Why go home?

She seems to be stronger
but what they want her to be,  is weak
She could play pretend
She could join the game, boy

She could be another clone

Why go home, why go home,
why go home, why go home
What you taught me
put me here
don't come visit,  mother..

sting me.
why go home?
Nalinee Aug 2020
Burn a little
Superficial surfaces
Reveal the real
A person's superficial nature must be removed to find the real one.
She rattles her cage
deep inside
where I hid her
so you could not touch her

This outer part,
this shell, this facade
is all you have
but not the real me

She is mine
and I am hers
the door is shut but I forgot
to turn the lock

Only a matter of time
before she busts out
to tear your world apart
and burn it down
Dante Rocío Aug 2020
We don’t need Music
And how
It embodies, captivates,
To know that each other and
Ourselves have
And are a
Majesty in reverberating
As we
On a country lane.
Even when no one
Is listening to
Us, Melody, or better;
a sensation of & in it,
Our silence contains
In one thought
More chords and stories
To be played than
The world’s bonding
To the audibility
Could ever do
And draw the greatness

Like violin, I’m
Such honey-laced strings
In swiftness
Thinking and by lips

As. Like.
furious heartbeat
tremendously stands
On a thrilling stave
So do us at the sunset
As a dance.
As a thrilling epiphany

I always imagine becoming Revolution soon to come
As departure through a heather field,
Hands raised in elegant victory
Decreasing I into horizon
as lilac, blue and copper scarlet
Infused with that painting
As I sound Violin.

Of the flaming presence we (or at least I)
Set in tremendous song beats
Of no words or yes.
We don’t need to hear Music
To know this upholding
Takes place in us in every minute
That we stand (of, on)
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