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#naught
Blank men carry black stones to riverbeds and call all who wake before the bells to follow. They do not worry about tomorrow because tomorrow is never and blank men are naught. They do not ride horses because horses mean work. They do not fall in love because love means deep being. They do not chant prayers because prayers make believe. They only carry black stones to riverbeds because rivers are always changing. *“Don all ye that come, with lamp and cloak and speak the nameless name of the river you step into. Bright be we that carry this darkness and shadow be us that survive the light. Ask not why you carry these stones, but hurl them into the void and see your reflection tremble.”* At this they move on and repeat themselves, with new faces and no names, to places that don’t exist and people that never were. Blank men carry black stones to riverbeds and call all who wake before the bells to follow.
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Sep 27, 2025
Sep 27, 2025 at 7:32 PM UTC
blank men and no places
I forbid myself to love you! It's unbearable! It's like I'm tearing myself to pieces, To shreds at all! I madly want to be with you! More than nearer! But I forbid myself to think of you! Not at all! I forbid myself to remember you! It's torture! The sunshine in my window at dawn - It's you! Without you I maim my Soul! I **** her! My days, my dreams, my thoughts are naught Without you!
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Mar 19, 2025
Mar 19, 2025 at 5:57 PM UTC
I forbid myself to love you!
In the crook of my sanity sat this poor little me bereft of reason naught of gold one with the concrete so cold and bold not for wisdom never for hope full of wishes for food and cloth if I beg, will it stop? if I cry, will I drop- if I jump, will it be better? and I could laugh and cry and tell them I am still, still stuck there now, better at hiding full of warmth from my blood sweater sewn from shame and disappointment it never gets better it only gets quiet and you drown in silence and acceptance, that fate is this it is meant to be.
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May 5, 2024
May 5, 2024 at 11:31 PM UTC
naught
We celebrate, don't we. We celebrate celebrity, don’t' we. Fame and fortune, apprehended while still alive, we celebrate such aims hit. Right on. We worldly humus beings, highest bits of the dust of the earth; we, self evidently know, in side, on the inside of what we are, there is an idea of being measured for worth, by the joy you use by right to stir the old ideas that once formed gods. we feel the flow, we know more blessed to give, than receive, given and given evidence of all we know we never see overwhelming the hope deferred heart sick deception post reception, too late, the fix is in. The heart is new, not twisted, designed, with that magnificent aortal vagus CNX action, swirling the field of all we imagine into watchaseeswattchgit Hide, and watch… there is no whimper when this bubble of been is popped. But its not a bang, more a hiss or a sigh. The traditional medium, words, thinking, the thinking thing seems to think somethings missing something is missing a sense of why mass and matter whats whats whats first things first wise arises as a character trait, wait - there was a chance all hell could be imagined as real as any thing, so we made some mods on V.2.1, biome factors... -- time, yeah, time is a factor, but not luck… patience, per fect love casts out fear, not perfect aim. good wins, try again Fear not. Death has no sting. That's it, God's own fear fix, so low we go with this sci used, just right, so life always wins, using sci-, hence, no lie forms from truth, no imaginable evil ever exists, never is perfectly empty. panspermia pandaemonium psy=sci wit use of knowns, we try umph, and be come at worst a proven unthinkable thing. celebrity (n.) late 14c., "solemn rite or ceremony," from Old French celebrité "celebration" or directly from Latin celibritatem  (nominative celebritas) "multitude, fame," from celeber  "frequented, populous" (see celebrate). Meaning "condition of being famous" is from c. 1600; that of "a famous person" is from 1849. When the old gods withdraw, the empty thrones cry out for a successor, and with good management, or even without management, almost any perishable bag of bones may be hoisted into the vacant seat. [E.R. Dodds, "The Greeks and the Irrational"] From <https://www.etymonline.com/search?q=celebrity>
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Jun 30, 2020
Jun 30, 2020 at 8:36 PM UTC
When do we celebrate our wins?
We celebrate, don't we. We celebrate celebrity, don’t' we. Fame and fortune, apprehended while still alive, we celebrate such aims hit. Right on. We worldly humus beings, highest bits of the dust of the earth; we, self evidently know, in side, on the inside of what we are, there is an idea of being measured for worth, by the joy you use by right to stir the old ideas that once formed gods. we feel the flow, we know more blessed to give, than receive, given and given evidence of all we know we never see overwhelming the hope deferred heart sick deception post reception, too late, the fix is in. The heart is new, not twisted, designed, with that magnificent aortal vagus CNX action, swirling the field of all we imagine into watchaseeswattchgit Hide, and watch… there is no whimper when this bubble of been is popped. But its not a bang, more a hiss or a sigh. The traditional medium, words, thinking, the thinking thing seems to think somethings missing something is missing a sense of why mass and matter whats whats whats first things first wise arises as a character trait, wait - there was a chance all hell could be imagined as real as any thing, so we made some mods on V.2.1, biome factors... -- time, yeah, time is a factor, but not luck… patience, per fect love casts out fear, not perfect aim. good wins, try again Fear not. Death has no sting. That's it, God's own fear fix, so low we go with this sci used, just right, so life always wins, using sci-, hence, no lie forms from truth, no imaginable evil ever exists, never is perfectly empty. panspermia pandaemonium psy=sci wit use of knowns, we try umph, and be come at worst a proven unthinkable thing. celebrity (n.) late 14c., "solemn rite or ceremony," from Old French celebrité "celebration" or directly from Latin celibritatem  (nominative celebritas) "multitude, fame," from celeber  "frequented, populous" (see celebrate). Meaning "condition of being famous" is from c. 1600; that of "a famous person" is from 1849. When the old gods withdraw, the empty thrones cry out for a successor, and with good management, or even without management, almost any perishable bag of bones may be hoisted into the vacant seat. [E.R. Dodds, "The Greeks and the Irrational"] From <https://www.etymonline.com/search?q=celebrity>
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To define a woman, it needs more than just words For their true nature is beyond thoughts So, a woman is more than just who or what. If through a woman was everyone brought So not to say naught, Till we forever find a better word for now, A woman is synonymous with the word "world" —JIBRIL ABDULMALIK ©2019
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Apr 20, 2019
Apr 20, 2019 at 7:32 PM UTC
DEFINE A WOMAN
why i want to reach this state of life? i spend my time my effort my attention body and soul and heart just to reach this peak but why? what is the real purpose of all of this? did i just chase an empty dream? everyone congratulate me but i feel nothing at all nothing at all
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Apr 3, 2019
Apr 3, 2019 at 9:58 PM UTC
Mount Everest Feeling
An island lets itself go. In rising water finds a friend; The past comes to naught.
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Jan 12, 2019
Jan 12, 2019 at 2:59 PM UTC
An island unfriends itself
one grabs many things, wanting to be something; on the path to naught!
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Jun 5, 2018
Jun 5, 2018 at 2:24 AM UTC
Maya
We met at a bar We flirted alot Like we've known for so long But all is for naught We've texted for days Attentions are caught We're loving each moment But all is for naught We hated the world And battles are fought While we kiss and makeup But all is for naught We swore in our hearts Invoked what we've brought That a Promise of Paris But all is for naught As the days passed by I never have thought You betrayed our love Is it all for naught? You took me for granted As you left me to rot The promise is broken Is it still for naught? She's a witch in disguise With a sinister plot To break all mens heart It shall forever be naught
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Jul 22, 2015
Jul 22, 2015 at 6:05 AM UTC
The Promise of Paris
when the story ended before it's beginning there wasn't any trace of anything even on the event horizon the creator didn't have any chance, to make up anything on the drawing board of his being couldn't sense what was meant of him the plot hasn't sprouted anywhere in the vast field of thought fertile so no need ever did arise to forget anything there wasn't any apparition of  good or evil, love or hate, that'd  appear on earth, fire, air, space or water; not even nothing.
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Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 1:13 PM UTC
Koan conundrum