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#helper
Often of a late, I think a you in our ever, and I wonder if you ever think of those very best only, so, it must be best, we always make believe. But when ever comes sooner than expected, but not really, we can remember spirits we tried, we may recollect lofty conventions, we shall realize an old untirable knot yeah, we can work it out, its jus' gnosisnots religmental imagine **** Cheney's therapy, getting ready to be remembered… while Donald Trump presides over all military related honors and old Don knew some gnoshit depths of the return on investment in torture.
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Nov 4, 2025
Nov 4, 2025 at 7:56 PM UTC
Known Unknowns Shall Appear
What is home, everyone knows from experience or lack or both, as I do And still I know what I missed when I think about it Not often, at last I got my home And still I am the saviour, the angel I have practised to be from childhood I hesitate at the old Christmas card with me as a little angel, back then when I got a cat as a present Stars on my white dress gilt-edged wings and a halo But unable to definitely redeem my family, their desires Wounded, I crashed bipolar between heaven and earth between love and failure
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May 28, 2023
May 28, 2023 at 3:51 AM UTC
Fallen angel
In pain I labour and toil for such is the lot of Man The Helper comforts not to take the pain away but overflowing Spirit revealing the ends uplifting the Soul into mysterious realms of Truth, and Beauty, and hidden things
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Mar 21, 2022
Mar 21, 2022 at 9:54 AM UTC
Pain
Bigger that Xucha 🚀✨ Jojo Siwa 👩‍🎤✨ Tatiana, and Mr. Rogers 🎶✨ She creates her own legend 📓✨ Building children up 👶✨ Educating 🍎✨ People of all kinds of genres 📚✨ Turning all their pages 📖✨ Until she finds the current plot ⏰✨ Ready with her pen ✍️✨ To help them connect the dots \/\/\|\🖊 To view the bigger and smaller picture 🖼 With lots of love 💖✨ And pleasant thoughts 🌈✨
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Jul 14, 2021
Jul 14, 2021 at 1:48 PM UTC
#84
My name is Jammit Janet 🛼💖✨ I have my own educational planet 🪐✨ Where I can teach you about life and the Universe🌲✨ Rhymes, lines, poetry; verse 📝✨ How to align your time ⏰✨ To enjoy the you 🥳🎉💜✨ That you are right now ☝️💖✨ While we converse 💁‍♀️✨ For every moment is a chance to shine ✨ The bright light of hope 🔦✨ And destroy the wicked curse 🙅‍♀️✨ That lack of love 💔✨ Construes 🛠✨ Help restore 👩‍🔧✨ The faith in our own ability 💥✨ To heal and soothe our own souls ❤️‍🩹✨ Because in the end 🎬✨ We are all one ☝️✨ And as one ☝️✨ We all deserve to understand the feeling 💡✨ Of feeling whole 🌕✨ What it's like to truly be at peace 🧘‍♀️✨ Relax ☺️✨ Feel love 🥰❤️✨
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Jul 11, 2021
Jul 11, 2021 at 10:04 PM UTC
#78
Like a candle,you always brighten my each day, you allowed to catch light ,as  easily as a fire, You taught me to reflect what you had teach me, You taught me to share happiness like u share ur light to others, You created a world for me ,when I was expecting nothing but a void, You taught me to love rather than to hate, But I never knew, u was melting away while you were trying to make me happy.......
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Jun 3, 2021
Jun 3, 2021 at 6:52 AM UTC
A candle....
Obsessive helper Looking for the broken things Mending them with tears
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Apr 11, 2021
Apr 11, 2021 at 6:16 PM UTC
INFP (Haiku)
They warned me to watch for my hands because I might cut them picking up the broken pieces of others. They warned me to watch for my eyes because after seeing their problems my sight would lose all it’s colours. I believed good people were like candles as they’d burn themselves out to give others light I believed good people were like the dark of the night as they'd be there to help the stars shine bright My hands may be criss crossed with cuts and scars, my eyesight dim, and in need of glasses my body may be patched and riddled with burn marks and I may have fallen into the depths of darkness So often I believed that no one was there to help the helper It was hard, and the map of 3rd degree burns and nicks are a testament to my journey, my daily crucifix But I think I’ve found the balance, the fine fine line between madness and sanity. Between helping others and myself I’ve learnt to shine brightly for others like the moon, both light and dark whilst not setting myself on fire and still allowing others to shine stark My eyes still see the wonder in the world, my hands still craft joy, still tinker with happiness. To you my friend, if you're anything like me, know it's all worth it, and you will be helped, you will be found.
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Jul 22, 2020
Jul 22, 2020 at 2:23 AM UTC
The Helper
Yes, I was born a helper, the Elf, Though thanks were left on the shelf, Buddy the Elf is no fighter, Smiling in peace makes us lighter, Helpers find solutions, you see, I am nice to people so nasty, All I can say is, "Good for me!"
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Sep 26, 2019
Sep 26, 2019 at 5:46 PM UTC
THE HELPER....
she tries so hard to please others when all that matters in the end is that she pleases her Heavenly Father and brings glory to His name all else will fall away
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Mar 28, 2019
Mar 28, 2019 at 7:59 PM UTC
pleasing others
Never have I seen one as generous, Nor one so abandoned as you in your darkest hours, Never seen someone as noble as you, Oh helper and hope of the lonely, Where are you? Where has your Light gone? The sparks through which you guided us all, The light that tore away the dark of our souls, Your supreme sacrifices to which now I long, My heart belongs only to you, You taught me love and duty, Then persisted that I remain humble, One so pure, without, I could never be whole.
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Jun 6, 2018
Jun 6, 2018 at 12:23 PM UTC
One Above All
Knowing that it was my shoulder she cried on Made me fall deeper in love with her She trusted me with her pain and sorrow I'm no savior, but for this one moment I'm glad I'm here for her...
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Sep 13, 2017
Sep 13, 2017 at 2:56 PM UTC
A Shoulder to Cry On
step right up to this broken machine she'll take anyone look at this queen she's shiny and new with smiles so bright every step she takes is light her colours are more than a rainbow can boast she has more than any she has the most they drift in the wind and fall from her fingers her joy is infectious she's contentment's dead ringer this machine never stops that's why its so popular people will travel far there is no other none so dedicated to her job as this she's a volunteer so surely she loves it but a crisis strikes every once in a while the machine won't admit it, she's in denial but her colour store is personally supplied if she told you it's abundant, surely she lied this machine has colours she enjoys sparing but to spend her whole life as this machine is daring machines must be turned off must be unplugged this machine never does because help is her drug she goes and she goes until she overheats her colours start melting they run through the streets these runaway colours are scooped up and scrounged meanwhile the machine is left on the ground she rusts while it rains, there on the ground no regard for the girl whose rainbow seems to be gone look how she lays so curled up and crying but not from her loss crying because her aid is the cost with no regard for herself she whispers "if I take a break, look at who suffers" but the rainbow too must be regrown it can only take time and care and sweet tones encouraging words to let her know she's not alone, she will never be thrown from this world with contempt because love exists but love may not always come to you free sometimes there is just one fee it isn't much... just to ask
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Jan 19, 2017
Jan 19, 2017 at 9:40 PM UTC
Broken Machine
step right up to this broken machine she'll take anyone look at this queen she's shiny and new with smiles so bright every step she takes is light her colours are more than a rainbow can boast she has more than any she has the most they drift in the wind and fall from her fingers her joy is infectious she's contentment's dead ringer this machine never stops that's why its so popular people will travel far there is no other none so dedicated to her job as this she's a volunteer so surely she loves it but a crisis strikes every once in a while the machine won't admit it, she's in denial but her colour store is personally supplied if she told you it's abundant, surely she lied this machine has colours she enjoys sparing but to spend her whole life as this machine is daring machines must be turned off must be unplugged this machine never does because help is her drug she goes and she goes until she overheats her colours start melting they run through the streets these runaway colours are scooped up and scrounged meanwhile the machine is left on the ground she rusts while it rains, there on the ground no regard for the girl whose rainbow seems to be gone look how she lays so curled up and crying but not from her loss crying because her aid is the cost with no regard for herself she whispers "if I take a break, look at who suffers" but the rainbow too must be regrown it can only take time and care and sweet tones encouraging words to let her know she's not alone, she will never be thrown from this world with contempt because love exists but love may not always come to you free sometimes there is just one fee it isn't much... just to ask
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To be necessary is to have purpose in essence. Disavowed from senses of contingent dependence. Disallowed from connection in simplest of form, the necessary are to be dead and too born. Existing in realm of support for all else, with no reason at all in helping themselves. To be necessary is to have purpose in essence; contingency aiding with iris virescent.
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Dec 7, 2016
Dec 7, 2016 at 7:07 PM UTC
The Necessary
I have read the poem you wrote for me late at night hundreds of times. I read it when my mind is constantly doubting itself. I read it when my eye sockets are continuously flowing waterfalls and I've been drained of my confidence. I read it when I need it. You see those little poetic words created by a beautiful mind are my reminders that I'm strong. That this life is not as bad as it seems. That I have what it takes. When looking into your eyes I see a healer. Somebody who fixes wounds with words. A kid at heart who fixes minds with short phrases because he is to scared to encounter his own. A healer who needs healing. I'd like to thank you. For creating a boost of confidence for me. A beautiful piece of art that'll live in my head for years to come. Something I can go back to without worrying it'll be gone when I get there. I hope you find someone who can give you what you gave me. Because I believe you need it too. A boost of confidence that'll never fade.
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Nov 22, 2015
Nov 22, 2015 at 6:06 AM UTC
Healer who needs healing
Hail the  hobo King sitting  on his throne of A stripped ford, engine no longer their Dismantled  of all that was worth a dime. His subjects bring offerings of dinner trash Food, fresh from the dumpster. Given to Those of ill health and malnourished need. He sits in clothes matted with his trails of The moments his feet have hit the pavement. Of life not as others had the chance to live. He wandered the land every concrete jungle Knew him as the hobo King, no crown gestured His head, only the word, the word of mouth. Settling disputes of those in homes of cardboard Of wood and used plastic sheeting sheltering from Those who would do harm and the relentless cold. He wonders the streets, knows the secrets of each City of the unseen spaces where those whom roam Now lay. The vulnerable have a guardian a keeper. Ignorance of those who do not see that which in Doorways sleep, of huddled masses under bridges Buildings to keep dry and an uneasy sleep. He is the hobo king a crown of matted hair he Wears, always does he have time for those Less fortunate because he is one with the street.
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Oct 22, 2015
Oct 22, 2015 at 6:56 PM UTC
The Hobo King
What do I know about what has been taken from me? It is dangerous any more at this age to sleep for very long, as I may awake not even recognizing myself. Some part of me leaves without my permission, departs into its own journey each night-- perhaps into the stars. What is left open in the empty space where I have been ribbed and robbed? It appears as a widening of flesh that seems to resist closing, a sacred wound from on high places, carved with a determined and prosperous hand. What returns to me? How it arrives is the same amount of mystery that was taken. I see someone beside me, outside of me, who requests that we be added to each other-- a blend that only much deep sleep can provide. This has come to me for help; to help with what I once thought I needed and for what I knew had been taken from me. Now it is apart from me and stands beside me, I awake with the pain of a blessed departure that has stirred inside of me.
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Sep 3, 2015
Sep 3, 2015 at 12:03 PM UTC
Helper
Sitting in a crowded room, everybody has something to say, i try to tell a story but nobody would listen. At that moment when i try to  raise my voice, i just realise that am blocked out. I sit alone in a crowed room and i wonder what my purpose is. Much of a helper thats all i am, much of a planner thats what i am, so much of a listener and a talker when something needs to be solved, but less than that am blocked out, less than that am invisible. Thats what i am just less than that
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Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 5:46 AM UTC
Blocked out
I am tired. Tired of feeling alone.   Tired of feeling unneeded.    Tired of feeling ignored.     You only talk to me       When you need help.         When you need advice.            I'll ask             'Hey how are you doing?' -Silence               'Hey what are you doing today?' -Silence                                   I am Sick                      Sick of feeling useless.                        Sick of feeling stepped on.                          Sick of being spoken to                            only when those around me need help,                                For they know I will never turn down a 'friend.'                                     A 'Loved One,'                                         A 'Confidant.'                           To whom do helpers turn in time of need?                                              In times of sorrow?                                               In times of panic?                                      What holds the mighty rock?                                   The rock that breaks the waves?                                      The rock whose sole purpose                            Seems to be protection against the sea?                                             Who helps the rock?                               When the ground begins to tremble                                        And open its mighty maw?                                             To whom do I turn?                                             On whom do I lean?               When I am Sick?                                     When I am Tired?                                                                                                        Because I am Sick,                                                                        And I am Tired                                           And I am closed.
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Nov 24, 2014
Nov 24, 2014 at 3:53 AM UTC
Sick and Tired
I am tired. Tired of feeling alone.   Tired of feeling unneeded.    Tired of feeling ignored.     You only talk to me       When you need help.         When you need advice.            I'll ask             'Hey how are you doing?' -Silence               'Hey what are you doing today?' -Silence                                   I am Sick                      Sick of feeling useless.                        Sick of feeling stepped on.                          Sick of being spoken to                            only when those around me need help,                                For they know I will never turn down a 'friend.'                                     A 'Loved One,'                                         A 'Confidant.'                           To whom do helpers turn in time of need?                                              In times of sorrow?                                               In times of panic?                                      What holds the mighty rock?                                   The rock that breaks the waves?                                      The rock whose sole purpose                            Seems to be protection against the sea?                                             Who helps the rock?                               When the ground begins to tremble                                        And open its mighty maw?                                             To whom do I turn?                                             On whom do I lean?               When I am Sick?                                     When I am Tired?                                                                                                        Because I am Sick,                                                                        And I am Tired                                           And I am closed.
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