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Ylzm Feb 20
I'm a ghost, an empty shell, a stranger amongst flesh
I walk the certain way, contrary, unseen and unheard
Flesh seems unaware of me and my way and walk away
My voice wordlessly soundless and my touch the wind
Spirit and flesh have no fellowship and union, futility

I see the sighted unseeing, stumbling, falling, smiling
Without truth confident the next step is never void
Every fall is knowledge every bone broken is growth
Till the last fall then to sleep eternal, life's done
Without fear, without regrets, for what else is life?
I am the child of the East,
Citizen of no mans land.
I don’t fit in the borders
I have no map in my hands.
I let my heart be my compass,
My guide is the endless sky.
What is to be is what comes
Enough for me is my now.
Don’t preach me, believe you not,
Don’t see colors, don’t know words,
My heart lays in the unseen,
And stories no one heard.
I look at you with no rules
Coz being human is to love,
To be humane is to know
There are plots you never told,
There is a wound you never showed.
Preach you not, I am no better,
I am a passerby in time
Taking chances, writing letters
Of my journey and hidden crimes.
Tell me not I don’t belong,
I know it already too well.
If my trip is to be long
I have a tale I wanna tell.
I don’t belong but I walk my walk,
I don’t need rug to talk to God.
The Earth is my prayer mat,
And the whole world is my mosque.

20.10.24
🖊️ Lily the Passerby
Though your sins may fulfill you in this life
They serve no purpose upon you in the next
Prepare yourself for what will be
Seek mercy for yourself and others
In preparation for what is to come
And in peace you shall reside
For time here is fleeting and ambiguous at best
Though innocence is not needed
Repentance is required
In these moments acceptance shall serve you
Cast judgement aside
In him with him in unity with God the creator you shall remain
Acceptance, humility—they whisper truths in the silence of the night,
Of a life lived with grace in the softest light.
In their constant presence, we find a steady ground,
A sanctuary of the spirit where our true selves are found.
Zywa Feb 7
You are tired, I can

see through you, you're beautiful --


my private spirit.
Novel (roman à clef) "L'invitée" ("The Invitee", 1964, Simone de Beauvoir), part 2, chapter 4

Collection "Loves Tricks Gains Pains in the 40s and 50s"
Everything is normal
so not much to sing or say.
No summer thunderstorm,
the snow was magical only for an hour.

Old men
aren’t removing women’s ******* with removable dentures.
A belly laugh now and then,
an empty belly’s holy.

With simple joy
mortals may forget to fear their deaths.
Simply put,
we do not survive. But what an adventure!

I heard an archangel cry
Don’t hurt the trees!
Also, save democracy.
Also, stop barking, believing in that higher power.

What’s Ken doing today?
Watching TED talk lectures,
planning next Spring’s garden.
It’s Death, not the Jewish king, in your rose garden.

As climates change
species escape predators
and predators chase down prey.
Choose sacrifice or blame.

I look at faces
and they look at mine, mute, animated spirits,
black wet rocks,
victims among flames.

I embrace my anonymity,
lost in my own city,
in the shade of a gazebo,
a mosquito’s acceptance of its position among a million mosquitoes.
In every act of kindness, in every tear we dry, In every moment we live, in every last goodbye.
Jesus walked not in temples made with stone, But in hearts, where seeds of love are sown.
He taught not of rituals, robes, or creeds, But of helping hands to those in need.
Daniel Tucker Jan 28
every day I had to dig through
deeply rooted malignancies
and clusters of phosphorescent
spider eggs and webs full of
dead flies draped throughout a
long-abandoned domain
once inhabited
                    by my mind

the roots pushed and
twisted their way through
thick walls of the
foundations and membranes
of spirit mind and body
where I didn't even know
how to feel      all I knew is
that I had crossed unseen
         no trespassing signs

in life among the living
I lived as though I were dead
In the midst of vast human
knowledge I held
        vast emptiness instead

this lack of substance was
all that was left in my mind
I found myself trying to buy
back more of what I
had to
          leave behind

my mind and spirit were in
lockdown      in this death I
began to die      when I was
high I felt let down
     in the truth I saw a lie

the dawn of each new day
filled the sky with hues of a
darker light        since all of
the windows were barred
       and boarded-up

the only way I could see
glimpses of a brighter
light or others living life
were through any thin
little cracks I could find

like an addict trying to
avoid their addiction
each new day and every
waking hour I would find
myself learning what I was
        losing my mind
        trying to forget

I was so sick and tired of
     d . . . always going down
          o
        w
           n

truth only strengthened
         this neurotic depression

but in the throes of pain and
breakdown I found hope in
a New Day     when I was lost
in the cycles of confusion
I at least found pieces of
peace and pieces of mind
        along the way

when I die with the sun in
the midst of the evening
I now find enough faith
   to believe I will
            rise with it again

when I seem to have lost
all of my chances I clutch
desperately to any strand
     of a chance to begin

saving what's left of my mind
buying what used to be mine.
Copyright © 2025
by Daniel Tucker

A poem from the living of my life.

Coping with depression and winning!
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