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#liberate
a play on me, the word thought chases me past, our pasts, our collective, but uncollected past, uncollected, un~collated, we deliberate separately but equally thousands of miles prying us apart, our anonymity preserved, we are liberated, sort of, not really, but here comes the weekend, and we all are free at last, Sort of
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Mar 13
Mar 13, 2026 at 3:25 PM UTC
Poets! deliberate, to liberate
END THE FAKE DEFENSE MISSIONS of GOVERNMENTS AND MILITARIES of CORRUPT LEADING WORLD SUPERPOWERS END THE FAKE DEFENSE MISSIONS of the terrorists, of the US government, of the Israeli government, of the Saudi government, etc. and their militaries because that's exactly what they are...FAKE!!! END THE FAKE DEFENSE MISSIONS because their fabricators are not motivated by or initiated by a desire to defend or to help or to rescue or to promote peace, but rather by greed, a desire to steal, to smother righteousness, to barricade Islam, to colonize, and to put an end to the justice and social justice components or features of Islam that promote fairness, equality, there's no person or no deity greater than, more important than, more significant than ALLAH SUBHANNA WA TA 'ALA, no human is superior to or better than or over another human, brotherhood and sisterhood, unity among all social beings regardless of national, racial, cultural, sectarian, economic, institutionalized education, and other social differences. END THE FAKE DEFENSE MISSIONS because their aim is to eliminate, eradicate, blow up What MECCA is all about!!! By: Najwa Kareem Written and published on 1/30/26
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Jan 13
Jan 13, 2026 at 11:08 AM UTC
END THE FAKE DEFENSE MISSIONS
To write, was to embrace all the waves that you kept off the shore. To write, was to embrace the thoughts you shoveled down so they wouldn't have the power to hurt you. To write, was to feel liberated of your shackles and confinement. To write, was to find yourself navigating towards your own thoughts and emotions that you kept away for so long. To write, was to feel once more and be brought back to yourself.
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Jul 25, 2019
Jul 25, 2019 at 3:51 AM UTC
To write
I have a voice behind this tongue that is quiet and sky and knotted in my throat. I have a voice that whispers to me but i fear to amplify, for you see it reflects on who am I. I fear of what they might think, as it is not an attempt at speaking but an insight to my perspective, and thoughts allowing them to know and judge. It's a fear I dread to face, that consumes me everyday, I don't face. I have a voice, its mine and I don't want it to be muted by people and neither fear. I have voice, that it is all mine, that I will amplify. For it is a part of who I am, my opinions my thoughts, I choose for it not to be taken away, neither suppressed. I give it a platform, a channel, and courage to let it speak its very own language. Liberating me with every syllable it lets slip.
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Jul 24, 2019
Jul 24, 2019 at 5:51 PM UTC
My Voice
Readjusting to the eternal present moment that is now and forever Where all things spiral and grow... where all creation flourishes Once again I lost my mind only to rediscover inner peace and find a sense of contentment and bliss like never before This maze gets deeper and deeper as I traverse the unknown and beyond I keep wondering how things could get any more strange I keep thinking that this life can't get any more magical As soon as I feel like I know what to expect, the path transforms once again, right under my feet Doors close and windows open right in front of my face This path is forever changing and adapting Constantly shifting and expanding dimensions I find the singularity and liberate myself with each breath Pure eternal bliss... Everything is perfect as it always was Everything is perfect no matter what happens next
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Jun 27, 2018
Jun 27, 2018 at 10:23 PM UTC
The Magic Path
I didn't bite the apple, but now I see that there's a dangerously blurred line between liberation and thraldom
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Jun 24, 2018
Jun 24, 2018 at 5:37 PM UTC
Blurs
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: -Haiku Indelible Words Inked as small whispered traces Liberate the mind. -R. 10.28.17 -LA
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Oct 29, 2017
Oct 29, 2017 at 12:45 AM UTC
-Untitled 18
Shh... You can taste it, can't you? The nectar of the forbidden fruit, the music that dances in your ear. Crashing on bed, the sheets ripple as you're lost to the beat. Your heart's aflame. Tendrils of adrenaline begin to spark and spread through you, from the fingertips to your bedroom eyes. Naked, the silk sheets caresses massage your body. Strokes like gossamer wings flutter in you, around you. The golden sax becomes a sensual purr, as you are kissed by the smooth sounds of sweet murmurs. Tongues are chisels that leave you some sheen. Fingers are brushstrokes, that combs your chest and forgets no details as it traces shapes over your goose-prickled flesh. Writhing in the pleasure of golden smoothness, with lucid silhouettes of heated summer layers during wintered nights. The sax growls through your ears, and all that is seen are its glittering lips, the promise of the sweet doom and amour fou... For nothing is more liberating, nothing is more enthralling than the carnals thrill of the illicit. A candied fingers to your lips...
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Sep 5, 2017
Sep 5, 2017 at 4:51 PM UTC
Clandestine
I am a sealed envelope licked by past promises that have found a home in the corners of my frame Go on cut it open liberate me I dare you
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Aug 25, 2017
Aug 25, 2017 at 4:42 AM UTC
Envelope
***Wanna liberate? Hibernate for a while.***
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Aug 8, 2017
Aug 8, 2017 at 8:25 AM UTC
To liberate...
Feeling  astrayed Freshly  betrayed Emotions cascade Just no word Going absurd Visions blurred No remembrance Just a present tense Let me be in silence To contemplate To hibernate To liberate Wanna be autonomous Wanna go unconscious Wanna be anonymous
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Jun 13, 2017
Jun 13, 2017 at 1:11 PM UTC
Anonymus
It’s a new day dawning yet we’re still living in the past Embracing colonialism and saving the rest for last You know, the rest meaning the other cultures because you think they don’t matter But it’s time for that glass of classism and racism to shatter It’s funny how when I go to University I’m rarely taught by people who look like me No matter how much the white lecturers may try, they will never understand my cultural identity So don’t get mad if I doze off in your lecture because I just can’t relate If I speak up I may start the great debate Learning about Ancient Greeks and those who lived in Rome is fine But what about the indigenous people of the Caribbean or stories of what went through the slave’s mind? University is more than just learning about what makes Western culture great There’s more to this world that we can truly celebrate America and Haiti both had a revolution So if we want to make a change we need to come up with a solution It’s a new day dawning and we plan to decolonise Despite our obstacles, we will rise
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Mar 29, 2017
Mar 29, 2017 at 7:39 AM UTC
It's A New Day Dawning
She inspires me to raise my voice, and let myself be heard She inspires me to stand my ground, to find my own place in this world She inspires me to chase my dreams, and never be deterred She inspires me for every day, she's as free as any bird
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Mar 8, 2017
Mar 8, 2017 at 5:55 PM UTC
She Inspires Me
You don't have to prove anything to anyone Especially people who didn't wash the blood off your hands, Especially those who didn't hold you while you shook so hard you rattled your brain, You actually rattled your brain, You don't have to remember or explain what happened to strangers whose eyes penetrate your shirt To see the scars that seep through the white you owe a reason to no one for why you don't like to fight or speak in front of people They weren't there when you had to shave your head because it was falling out anyway They weren't there when you threw away your last needle, so **** them
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Dec 2, 2016
Dec 2, 2016 at 2:53 AM UTC
Note to Self
I know love not as an arm around a waist, nor fingers teasing hair and running down a neck-- but as a temporary tattoo, and the fleeting taste of Zebra Fruit Stripe Gum. And just like Da Vinci never slept, but took several naps a day-- So do I fall in love daily, but tenfold! The deep yearning that wells within my soul and sits as the lump lodged within my aching throat, I stumble through the day tripping over my enamoredness towards any kind soul who dares to look my way, or speak my name, or touch my hand-- and I want to set up a kissing booth in the middle of a shopping center or my college campus, and solicit others to grant me a taste of their humanity in the holiest of ways, man or woman, young or old, to but press their lips against mine for a second and I would become illuminated, rejuvenated, and I would leap from my weary mental confines like a grasshopper springing out of tall grass, and love would well up within me-- Not as a transient fix, but an anchor in these uncharted waters, a cool glass of milk to a parched throat in a late night hour, outlasting any cheap ****** or content stomach, and shying away the facade of complacency. I would burst forth like a battering ram through the prison cell doors I weep and wallow behind, and I'd have a skip in my step that would ferry me across every pond and great lake. For these hands do not pray, but they tremble, and they ache. And these lips do as hands do, as they rest upon a placid face that looks in the mirror and reads of the anguish seeping out of inflamed pores and burrowing between the creases alluding a furrowed brow, and if but a kiss could render one free from such odious palpations, then I'll gladly set mine to the liberator, whomever it may be-- And how many lips does it take to get to the center of my frozen aching heart? The world may never know.
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Sep 13, 2016
Sep 13, 2016 at 11:12 PM UTC
Kissing Booth
I know love not as an arm around a waist, nor fingers teasing hair and running down a neck-- but as a temporary tattoo, and the fleeting taste of Zebra Fruit Stripe Gum. And just like Da Vinci never slept, but took several naps a day-- So do I fall in love daily, but tenfold! The deep yearning that wells within my soul and sits as the lump lodged within my aching throat, I stumble through the day tripping over my enamoredness towards any kind soul who dares to look my way, or speak my name, or touch my hand-- and I want to set up a kissing booth in the middle of a shopping center or my college campus, and solicit others to grant me a taste of their humanity in the holiest of ways, man or woman, young or old, to but press their lips against mine for a second and I would become illuminated, rejuvenated, and I would leap from my weary mental confines like a grasshopper springing out of tall grass, and love would well up within me-- Not as a transient fix, but an anchor in these uncharted waters, a cool glass of milk to a parched throat in a late night hour, outlasting any cheap ****** or content stomach, and shying away the facade of complacency. I would burst forth like a battering ram through the prison cell doors I weep and wallow behind, and I'd have a skip in my step that would ferry me across every pond and great lake. For these hands do not pray, but they tremble, and they ache. And these lips do as hands do, as they rest upon a placid face that looks in the mirror and reads of the anguish seeping out of inflamed pores and burrowing between the creases alluding a furrowed brow, and if but a kiss could render one free from such odious palpations, then I'll gladly set mine to the liberator, whomever it may be-- And how many lips does it take to get to the center of my frozen aching heart? The world may never know.
Continue reading...
51
There is a time in a person's life when that internal clock will ring when a higher force will wake us from our slumber with a sting having been given individual trials, we hope we'll do our best but we are insensitive, overcome with laziness, a desire for rest The little things in life, how so often we take them for granted quickly losing touch with reality, and becoming disenchanted thinking we can forge relationships, with the blinking of an eye failing to feel the hurt we cause others, with our final good-bye We, as human beings, must first come to acknowledge the truth the problems we all hide in our closet, they started in our youth but the error of our thinking, is clear and can only be addressed when we're willing to accept the fact, that this life is only a test Attempts at self denial are truly futile, because you remain unchanged accomplishing nothing, only from yourself will you become estranged an endless light of healing must be released, to that location unknown thereby removing that which blocks our thinking, our heart of stone Your mind is your cage, only if you desire, you can set yourself free don't believe in the lies you're told, you can be what you want to be if you never give up, you alone will be able to preserve the true way by choosing your destiny, no one else will, because this is your day Liberate yourself from the enslavement, transitory passions of the day either stand up to the pressures, or you'll just find yourself blown away you must trust your heart as it knows the truth, and it alone will succeed choosing the only real path, that path from where the light shall proceed
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Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 4:21 PM UTC
A Time to Set Yourself Free
There is a time in a person's life when that internal clock will ring when a higher force will wake us from our slumber with a sting having been given individual trials, we hope we'll do our best but we are insensitive, overcome with laziness, a desire for rest The little things in life, how so often we take them for granted quickly losing touch with reality, and becoming disenchanted thinking we can forge relationships, with the blinking of an eye failing to feel the hurt we cause others, with our final good-bye We, as human beings, must first come to acknowledge the truth the problems we all hide in our closet, they started in our youth but the error of our thinking, is clear and can only be addressed when we're willing to accept the fact, that this life is only a test Attempts at self denial are truly futile, because you remain unchanged accomplishing nothing, only from yourself will you become estranged an endless light of healing must be released, to that location unknown thereby removing that which blocks our thinking, our heart of stone Your mind is your cage, only if you desire, you can set yourself free don't believe in the lies you're told, you can be what you want to be if you never give up, you alone will be able to preserve the true way by choosing your destiny, no one else will, because this is your day Liberate yourself from the enslavement, transitory passions of the day either stand up to the pressures, or you'll just find yourself blown away you must trust your heart as it knows the truth, and it alone will succeed choosing the only real path, that path from where the light shall proceed
Continue reading...
24
I think it's wise To bat and blink your eyes, And to pretend to fly -at times Times when the saltiness of your tears Taste like a Dark & Stormy From your bitter years Times when you feel your feet, But not on the ground When your mind feels stripped But not quite sound Times when you feel like a wilting flower Energy diminished, &your; mood is sour You blink, and forever has come and gone But it's not even past the hour Though it feels so long It's the times we feel lost That liberate us to fly free Because as long as we're lost There are endless possibilities So remember, When deep in the kerfuffle, To ruffle your feathers, Ride out the weather Close your eyes, And simply, Fly.
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Feb 10, 2015
Feb 10, 2015 at 3:54 PM UTC
Lost and Free
I envisioned each of my cavities as bad memories, the fillings able to lock them up so I wouldn’t have to feel them so wholeheartedly anymore. These fillings didn’t last forever though and when they wore off the past came back with a persistent vengeance. The dentist would play these celestial piano songs that would tune out the sound of the drill. Sometimes i felt like I could get closer to you in these moments. Forced to stare up at the ceiling, I wondered if this was what you too saw in your last fleeting moments.
 The novacane made me realize I didn’t want to be numb anymore, I wanted to take everything in and get over it but that’s not how grieving works. You don’t call the shots, you only hold on for your life hoping that the end, although nowhere near in sight, is good to you. My first poem was about you, how you’re like the sunset. Now looking back I realize you are the sunrise, washing away the worries of yesterday. Bringing in new light and a clean slate, Your smile is the beginning not the end. I refuse to use past tense when it comes to you because I keep you alive with the words I speak and the memories I keep. 
Whenever I’m lost I wake for the sunrise and find myself again. Whenever I feel like I lost you I wake for the sunrise and find you again.
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Dec 31, 2014
Dec 31, 2014 at 3:02 AM UTC
I will never speak of you in Past tense
Your heart is ice, but my hands can be fire, I promise.                 just stay. I can melt through you- let me hold you, and take the pain away. But I can't help but leave destruction in my wake. I'm burning up our days.
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Jul 22, 2014
Jul 22, 2014 at 1:52 PM UTC
Fire