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#rivalry
Dearest Enemy battles are won or lost, often absurd and we both hold our trophies and candles close after, we‘ll fight over other kingdoms but we‘ll always fight and I‘m glad to be your opponent in war Still, I have to admit I‘m scared of the day one of us finally defeats the other In fact, I have nightmares of me standing over your bleeding body watching our history come to an end as the light leaves your eyes knowing that from now on there will only be me searching for a worthy opponent in a world full of fools
0
Nov 21, 2025
Nov 21, 2025 at 8:46 AM UTC
Dearest Enemy
The rivalry of I am me and you are you -- limits who we are.
0
Oct 2, 2025
Oct 2, 2025 at 3:48 AM UTC
[ The rivalry of ]
Tea: Jamil, in the soft breath of dawn,   I am the whisper that healeth, that’s drawn   From the quiet depths of forgotten dreams,   A balm for the heart where silence gleams.   I hold thee close with love that is slow,   Like a river’s song, gentle and low.   Yet on Saturdays, I see thee depart,   To the fire that stealeth thy wandering heart.   She calleth with a fervor, a scorching desire,   Whilst I, the shadow, wait, untouched by fire. Coffee: Ah, Jamil, dost thou not know?   I am the flame that maketh thee glow.   Her touch may soothe, her peace may bind,   But I am the tempest that frees thy mind.   I stir thee deep where secrets dwell,   In the heat of passion, I break the spell.   Once a week, thou dost return to me,   And in mine arms, thou art truly free.   Her silence may cradle thee in sleep,   But I am the pulse, the heart that leaps. Tea: But Jamil, dost thou not feel the grace   That I weave around thee in this place?   I am the quiet that holdeth thee near,   The balm for thy soul, the voice sincere.   She burneth with a passion that blindeth thy sight,   But I am the dusk, the still of the night.   When thy heart is weary, when thoughts collide,   It is I who still thee, a place to hide.   She is the fire, but I am the rain,   The softness that sooth’th thy deepest pain. Coffee: Jamil, thou art blind to see—   In my fire, thy soul shall be.   Her touch may cradle thee with care,   But I am the wind that stirreth the air.   She whispereth peace, but I roar with power,   I am the lightning, the midnight hour.   Once a week, thou dost call my name,   And in my heat, thou find’st no shame.   She giveth thee rest, but I giveth thee life,   The pulse that cutteth through all thy strife. Tea: Yet, Jamil, in mine arms dost thou not find   A peace that quieteth the storm in thy mind?   I am the silence between each sigh,   The softest breath that maketh thee fly.   She may burn bright with her fire and flame,   But I am the root that calleth thy name.   When the world is cruel, when the heart is lost,   It is I who heal thee, whatever the cost.   She is the storm, but I am the earth,   The place where love findeth its rebirth. Coffee: Ah, Jamil, dost thou not know?   I am the pulse that maketh thee grow.   Her calm may cradle thee, but I ignite   The flame that burneth through the endless night.   Once a week, thou dost seek my fire,   In mine embrace, thou dost never tire.   She cradles thee in soft repose,   But I am the ache, the longing that grows. Tea: Still, Jamil, dost thou not see,   In mine silence, thy soul is free?   I am the lullaby that maketh thee dream,   The quiet touch, the steady stream.   She is the fire that consumeth and taketh,   But I am the love that gently breaketh.   When thou art lost, when thy heart is torn,   It is I who will guide thee, reborn.   She is the tempest, the wild, the flame,   But I am the refuge, the place of shame. Coffee: Jamil, thou dost not understand,   I am the fire, the burning hand.   Her touch is soft, but mine is raw,   The wild desire, the heart's deep flaw.   Once a week, thou dost seek my flame,   And in my heat, thou dost find thy name.   She whispereth peace, but I am the cry,   That maketh thee break the chains and fly. Tea: O’ Jamil, in mine arms dost thou not find   A peace that settl’th the restless mind?   I am the thread that bindeth thee whole,   The gentle calm, the quiet soul.   She may burn bright, but I am the dawn,   The steady light that carrieth thee on.   Return to me when the world is loud,   For I am the shadow, the softest cloud. Coffee: Together, Jamil, we maketh thee complete,   I am the fire, she is the beat.   Thou need’st both to stir thy soul,   The calm, the storm, the part, the whole.   In my flame, thou dost find thy way,   In her peace, thou shalt stay.   For in each sip, thy soul shall learn—   Both the fire and silence return. Tea: Ah, Jamil, dost thou not see?   In mine stillness, both fire and peace shall be.   I am the balm that healeth the wound,   The steady heart, the sacred tune.   Her flames may rise, her heat may burn,   But I am the river that letteth thee return.   In each moment, in each sigh,   We are both the fire and the sky.
0
Dec 22, 2024
Dec 22, 2024 at 1:42 PM UTC
The Rivalry: Tea -v- Coffee
Tea: Jamil, in the soft breath of dawn,   I am the whisper that healeth, that’s drawn   From the quiet depths of forgotten dreams,   A balm for the heart where silence gleams.   I hold thee close with love that is slow,   Like a river’s song, gentle and low.   Yet on Saturdays, I see thee depart,   To the fire that stealeth thy wandering heart.   She calleth with a fervor, a scorching desire,   Whilst I, the shadow, wait, untouched by fire. Coffee: Ah, Jamil, dost thou not know?   I am the flame that maketh thee glow.   Her touch may soothe, her peace may bind,   But I am the tempest that frees thy mind.   I stir thee deep where secrets dwell,   In the heat of passion, I break the spell.   Once a week, thou dost return to me,   And in mine arms, thou art truly free.   Her silence may cradle thee in sleep,   But I am the pulse, the heart that leaps. Tea: But Jamil, dost thou not feel the grace   That I weave around thee in this place?   I am the quiet that holdeth thee near,   The balm for thy soul, the voice sincere.   She burneth with a passion that blindeth thy sight,   But I am the dusk, the still of the night.   When thy heart is weary, when thoughts collide,   It is I who still thee, a place to hide.   She is the fire, but I am the rain,   The softness that sooth’th thy deepest pain. Coffee: Jamil, thou art blind to see—   In my fire, thy soul shall be.   Her touch may cradle thee with care,   But I am the wind that stirreth the air.   She whispereth peace, but I roar with power,   I am the lightning, the midnight hour.   Once a week, thou dost call my name,   And in my heat, thou find’st no shame.   She giveth thee rest, but I giveth thee life,   The pulse that cutteth through all thy strife. Tea: Yet, Jamil, in mine arms dost thou not find   A peace that quieteth the storm in thy mind?   I am the silence between each sigh,   The softest breath that maketh thee fly.   She may burn bright with her fire and flame,   But I am the root that calleth thy name.   When the world is cruel, when the heart is lost,   It is I who heal thee, whatever the cost.   She is the storm, but I am the earth,   The place where love findeth its rebirth. Coffee: Ah, Jamil, dost thou not know?   I am the pulse that maketh thee grow.   Her calm may cradle thee, but I ignite   The flame that burneth through the endless night.   Once a week, thou dost seek my fire,   In mine embrace, thou dost never tire.   She cradles thee in soft repose,   But I am the ache, the longing that grows. Tea: Still, Jamil, dost thou not see,   In mine silence, thy soul is free?   I am the lullaby that maketh thee dream,   The quiet touch, the steady stream.   She is the fire that consumeth and taketh,   But I am the love that gently breaketh.   When thou art lost, when thy heart is torn,   It is I who will guide thee, reborn.   She is the tempest, the wild, the flame,   But I am the refuge, the place of shame. Coffee: Jamil, thou dost not understand,   I am the fire, the burning hand.   Her touch is soft, but mine is raw,   The wild desire, the heart's deep flaw.   Once a week, thou dost seek my flame,   And in my heat, thou dost find thy name.   She whispereth peace, but I am the cry,   That maketh thee break the chains and fly. Tea: O’ Jamil, in mine arms dost thou not find   A peace that settl’th the restless mind?   I am the thread that bindeth thee whole,   The gentle calm, the quiet soul.   She may burn bright, but I am the dawn,   The steady light that carrieth thee on.   Return to me when the world is loud,   For I am the shadow, the softest cloud. Coffee: Together, Jamil, we maketh thee complete,   I am the fire, she is the beat.   Thou need’st both to stir thy soul,   The calm, the storm, the part, the whole.   In my flame, thou dost find thy way,   In her peace, thou shalt stay.   For in each sip, thy soul shall learn—   Both the fire and silence return. Tea: Ah, Jamil, dost thou not see?   In mine stillness, both fire and peace shall be.   I am the balm that healeth the wound,   The steady heart, the sacred tune.   Her flames may rise, her heat may burn,   But I am the river that letteth thee return.   In each moment, in each sigh,   We are both the fire and the sky.
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100
No1 BPO Each call centre says they’re the best They never say they’re number 2 Always number 1 in their own way Is this in most collected revenue? Or number of employees? Or with the most offices? Each call centre says No1 The same saying by them all Can’t they say something new?
0
Aug 20, 2024
Aug 20, 2024 at 1:13 AM UTC
No1 BPO
Politer to fruit In the name, of a toil's box Sat by order's river, the irony we suit To possess a stilled eye, which has savored not Run, fool, run Sown notice, of a quiet in the din Of the jungle, we notice the hope of cunning To save a charging guidance to what we have, for sin Win, tool, win Lead since, fed genius Is a harboring cold, the driven nature of meant? In the dim eye's I forgave, many tears come to season Sun, who'll, sun Avid in heat we prophecy, is a need's shame Poised to entail all, the voice of method's begun To make a wish in open seem, the order to a name Sin, cool, sin Token treasure, thunder in the east So willed, for a moment to understand again Looking for a chosen one, that we lost at a feast Gun, soul, gun Driven by horror and the beauty of childhood Where a blind friendship with only a smile sung Has come and gone anew, like a heart of would... Halt and salt, why do you insist? Savage as a paradise with a missing child can be... A sign of the times, a sovereignty to ask, is a glue this...? Miracles in a guilty eye, are we that we are, kindred's anarchy?
0
Jul 4, 2022
Jul 4, 2022 at 7:11 PM UTC
Wouldn't, You, Visit A Jew In Hell?
100121 Parang ang lahat ng ilaw ay may kakumpitensya. Habang ang lahat ng nagliliwanag At kumikinang sa gabing mahiwaga’y Nagtatagisan kung sino ba ang pinaka-nakasisilaw – Kung sino ang pinakamaganda. Ni isa sa kanila'y ayaw matabunan, Ni ayaw nilang sila'y mahigitan Kaya naman maging sa kanilang pagtulog, Ay dinadalaw pa rin sila ng kani-kanilang kagustuhan. Ni hindi makahimbing ang mga alitaptap Na nagpapalamon sa nanunuksong alab. At tila ba walang katapusan ang paglikha Pagkat sa pagsapit ng panibagong umaga'y Iba na naman ang isasabit At magpapakitang gilas ng kanyang ningning. Ngunit ang lahat sa kanila’y May mga aninong umaakap patungo sa dilim. Nagtatago sa lilim ng kani-kanilang lihim, Walang mukhang maiguhit Kundi tanging pangalang minsang naiukit Upang panandaliang magbigay-kulay at magbigay-buhay. At sabay-sabay silang manghihina; Maghihikahos na daig pa ang nanlilimos ng lakas – Ng liwanag, ng kasiguraduhang maari pa silang bumangon. At mahahandugan pa ng pangalawang pagkakataon. Ngunit sa kabila ng kanilang paghihikahos, Ay kusang mamamatay ang kanilang mga apoy Na minsang sinindihan ngunit niyurakan Ng sarili nilang mga apoy.
0
Oct 3, 2021
Oct 3, 2021 at 11:28 PM UTC
Tiktak-tiktak
uoy ot gnis I seuh derettahs fo yballul a htrow dna ytilaudividni fo snoitcarfer kni gniyrc neeb ev'uoy em revo lla deraems ynnuf s'ti, das os gnikool                             I sing to you a lullaby of shattered hues refractions of individuality and worth you've been crying ink smeared all over me looking so sad, it's funny 'sit scriptor aspiret invicem' Should we? we already are. Each other we paint; "blood from thee."
0
Jun 16, 2021
Jun 16, 2021 at 8:28 AM UTC
one (proper format)
uoy ot gnis I seuh derettahs fo yballul a htrow dna ytilaudividni fo snoitcarfer kni gniyrc neeb ev'uoy em revo lla deraems ynnuf s'ti, das os gnikool mecivni teripsa rotpircs tis                             ?ew dluohS                  ;era ydaerla ew           tniap ew rehto hcaE eeht morf doolb
0
Jun 15, 2021
Jun 15, 2021 at 4:03 AM UTC
one
my mind just was submerged in that daydream Romance is An illusion of a team Reality would eventually hit no scenario less fancied than this Not thought of as devotee, but as a rival I was seen.
0
Feb 8, 2021
Feb 8, 2021 at 5:44 AM UTC
Antagonist
The mechanics of your scheming qualifies your genius. A tool for destruction an amalgam of evil prose. A narrative of your choosing A bastardisation of facts and excuses tantrums and lies I see how you whimper and conive your mark ****** into your hypnopsychosis, control freak Erasing my relativity Desiring my spoils gained despite your lifetime of torture Careful analysis of my faults and corrections My green grass,  the colour of your nightmares Take your control, I'll deposit my apathy as collaterol. I'll tend my garden, you grow your pretty little weeds, Line them all with cockle shells in a row You may fool them, But you dont fool  me. How you conspire, the same eyes, same lies Keep Narcisis in your prayers, you and your symbiotic succubus relationship. Fein saints and martyrs I'll climb higher while you climb into despair What really counts is the truth that we bate And the truth that we bare And I saw you clearly, I saw you both   Smiting everything not of your own making Your jealust consumes What I create is your next toxic dream You cant trample on who I am. Masters of manipulation Bar one Your greatest fear; My success, My joy, My hope, My power in defeat; Freedom from all your ****** up Sicophantic dramas. May you one day achieve the impossible And be like me, Nice.
0
Sep 27, 2020
Sep 27, 2020 at 7:52 PM UTC
Jealust
last minutes of trust in a poem made of dust you made me hate me feel the real injection daily everything seems to poke you turned into a joke everything seems to shine twinkle and rhyme feel the real injection this verse is for my protection this verse is killing you: action! lamps out of broken teeth brother breaks his brother's knee brother stabs his brother's stomach feel the real injection everything is for protection turning choirboys into warriors brother against brother everything is an attraction brother smashes brother's face in brother against brother face it: brother against brother
0
Mar 6, 2020
Mar 6, 2020 at 3:52 PM UTC
Brother Against Brother
What is peace without the passions of rivalry? Your touch on my skin without the blood that pools under your nail? How measly your love would be without the honeys of sin.
0
Jan 17, 2020
Jan 17, 2020 at 12:13 PM UTC
My Blood, Your Sword
She looks good without it too, but she's like 25, so... She doesn't work at Target anymore: She goes thru jobs like hairdos. Her kids are trying to find her a husband. I caught myself making a 'why?' face and I had to auto correct it because I was actually talking to her. She said the only men her age who want marriage really only want a cook or caregiver. Now we know why you're single.
0
Jan 11, 2020
Jan 11, 2020 at 6:51 PM UTC
Did you like her makeup better than mine?
She enters the gratification car With Victorian lace choker Porcelain décolletage And phasers on stun Don't worry lovergirl You can't hold a candle to her But you'll burn your fingers trying Look at the front of her dress Look at her passport Look at how the aisleway clears She's enroute to a foreign Meet and greet Tracking approval With the shape Of her sitzfleisch The conductor has No need of compass For her ******* point the way Once derailed You can mock and stomp 'Til kingdom come Until then save your pandering For trips to the loo You'll enjoy the ride Far better if you pretend She's your sister And not the woman Who gave birth to you...
0
Jan 8, 2020
Jan 8, 2020 at 9:58 AM UTC
Train to Resolution Island
my past is filled with oedipal encounters: many men i needed to rival today i unintentionally travelled (really?) today i involuntarily travelled (no way) today i travelled into my past: memories of many men that i needed to rival. due to my fatherless childhood i didn't have a man to compete against; that's why i JUMPED at countless chances to do so. none of these conflicts happened by chance. i picked strangers to compete against. but then there was this day. a certain day. a secret night. since then, i have gradually and later on gently overcome my need to compete. i was bewildered today because i competed against another man. why? out of the dark, i developed an affection for a woman younger than me; a brief moment of ****** interest. the competitor involved walked her home after a meeting the three of us had been together. while they were strolling down the street, i followed them. i wanted to see what they were doing. i wanted to observe how they observed each other's attraction. did so for a couple of minutes; they didn't take notice of me; or they were playing dead while their mouths were overfilled with squishing sounds of saliva. and then ––  as promptly as old patterns of rivalry had emerged –– i lost my affection for this young woman. affection left my soul like a spirit leaves a dead body. the affection vanished into thin air since it couldn't find a shelter in my soul. so this wired affection went on a quest for another creature. i didn't say goodbye. just wrote something down.
0
Dec 21, 2019
Dec 21, 2019 at 7:43 AM UTC
A Time Travel Into Rivalry
my past is filled with oedipal encounters: many men i needed to rival today i unintentionally travelled (really?) today i involuntarily travelled (no way) today i travelled into my past: memories of many men that i needed to rival. due to my fatherless childhood i didn't have a man to compete against; that's why i JUMPED at countless chances to do so. none of these conflicts happened by chance. i picked strangers to compete against. but then there was this day. a certain day. a secret night. since then, i have gradually and later on gently overcome my need to compete. i was bewildered today because i competed against another man. why? out of the dark, i developed an affection for a woman younger than me; a brief moment of ****** interest. the competitor involved walked her home after a meeting the three of us had been together. while they were strolling down the street, i followed them. i wanted to see what they were doing. i wanted to observe how they observed each other's attraction. did so for a couple of minutes; they didn't take notice of me; or they were playing dead while their mouths were overfilled with squishing sounds of saliva. and then ––  as promptly as old patterns of rivalry had emerged –– i lost my affection for this young woman. affection left my soul like a spirit leaves a dead body. the affection vanished into thin air since it couldn't find a shelter in my soul. so this wired affection went on a quest for another creature. i didn't say goodbye. just wrote something down.
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19
Patience is my super power On full display every hour If someone mad gets in my face My patience helps me maintain grace When railroad crossings block the road I simply enter patient mode If caught up in a traffic jam My calmness filmed by traffic cam Long checkout lines leave some irate Patience helps me endure the wait Restaurant wait times are the worst Composure wards off loud outbursts Patience is my super power Keeps my life from going sour One exception my Kryptonite Sibling face-offs leave me uptight!
0
Nov 5, 2019
Nov 5, 2019 at 2:40 PM UTC
Patience
There is no loving without wickedness. There is no loving without rivalry. Chase me. Fight me. The sting of the sword announces the winner; be sure to kiss me after. .
0
May 26, 2019
May 26, 2019 at 10:44 AM UTC
Love and Rivalry
now i can sleep much much better knowing that those red lips he refused to kiss were the same lips that told me to 'fuck off.'
0
Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 6:15 PM UTC
level ground.
I read your poem, twice It really got me thinking... The structure of my thoughts has never been written down, . . . I would say I'm jealous but I know I can do better, A rivalry in the making? probably not, But a challenge for sure, as you are something rare I can learn from . . . We'll see... I guess
0
Jan 25, 2018
Jan 25, 2018 at 8:32 PM UTC
Get this!
You hurt each other all the time You fight, ignore, plague each other in rhyme The first one is the oldest She is burdened to succeed She's withers away as life takes it's toll Once a limelit life filled with opus Now swallows her with greed The pole stains more than just her soul The second one is the baby She cries out for attention Everything will never be enough Success in life she found the key Her struggles she'd not mention Weak inside but her exterior, tough You cause each other pain and jade For both your sakes I hope this will fade
0
Jan 5, 2018
Jan 5, 2018 at 3:26 PM UTC
Sisters
This is my sister's Sharpie. My use of it will Likely start a fight.
0
Nov 20, 2017
Nov 20, 2017 at 2:51 PM UTC
Sharpie
you tell your friends bad things about me you tell them lies about me to make me look bad you tell them im weird, ugly, and annoying you tell them all these false things just to make them like you to make yourself feel powerful to put me down why do you hate me so much
0
Sep 21, 2017
Sep 21, 2017 at 11:38 PM UTC
why?
Which ground shall thine eternity crawl beneath? With agony, thou cry, thou scream and thou sleep Staggering over time, the extensions of gore A morph possessed over the flags: cloistered around throat An uttering of serene eons, of atrophy and of thaw; A morass of hegemony, of identity and war Withered from bullets,drained over the ground A knock on the coffin of tommorrow and   the past A chronology misplaced and outdone And a synapse of presence smothered with the breath of dust Which ground shall thine eternity crawl beneath? With hope, thou bawl, thou shout, thou sleep Chaotic commemoration ruptures over the streets Splatters around an arcane, segregated country Under the mud of enigma lies the rotten leaves of history Away the tomorrow leans, restless and unknowingly For it lies awake with the screams of a rifle, the screeching audibilty of ghostly  mutterings, the camaraderie caught on flesh, between the teeth of craved monarchy For the tomorrow lies awake near the history. For the past suffocates the vivacity Yclept the peace, yclept the tranquility! Which ground shall thine eternity crawl beneath? With anger, thou yelp, thou break, thou sleep A hymn of sigh deafens the petrifying serenity A sigh outraged with the murmur of life Seismic ephemerality tears the ground apart Barges in, the present, whispers a cry The tomorrow lies still over the chunks of calamity Lulled to sleep with the kiss of presence, With the screams of a distant enmity: The burial of time that has been cloistered around the anonymity The burial of the ceased, the past, as a euphemism The burial of the existence, the present, as    a mayhem The burial of the undone, the tomorrow, with a malediction All three in the same grave, punching the timeless, imminent reality they delineated Which ground shall thine eternity crawl beneath? With silence, thou shatter, thou question, thou sleep Down the ground quaffs the time Of a city that no longer breathes Out inundates the prayers of a dilemma For a country is to cleave Fidelity over a continuum, with faded prayers, shares a discourse Befuddled with an antinomy, it asks itself, how an epitaph shall be wrought? Down the ground swallows the confusion Of a city that no longer cries Now, which ground shall thine eternity crawl beneath? To be overwhelmed by a plenitude of halves In the name of peace, in the name of life! Which ground shall I die beneath? To lie awake with an eternal sleep I no longer whisper over the divided streets Not to awaken the past, not to revive the wounds and faded hymns I breathe in the dust, devouring the ceased For a divided city is to be kissed Down I no longer hold an impulse to scream: A gush of presence that arises a breeze That of which billowing up the grave Releasing a future for a road ahead With hope, I bawl, I defy, I beg Yclept the peace, in the name of solidarity!
0
Sep 15, 2017
Sep 15, 2017 at 5:28 AM UTC
A Divisive City
Which ground shall thine eternity crawl beneath? With agony, thou cry, thou scream and thou sleep Staggering over time, the extensions of gore A morph possessed over the flags: cloistered around throat An uttering of serene eons, of atrophy and of thaw; A morass of hegemony, of identity and war Withered from bullets,drained over the ground A knock on the coffin of tommorrow and   the past A chronology misplaced and outdone And a synapse of presence smothered with the breath of dust Which ground shall thine eternity crawl beneath? With hope, thou bawl, thou shout, thou sleep Chaotic commemoration ruptures over the streets Splatters around an arcane, segregated country Under the mud of enigma lies the rotten leaves of history Away the tomorrow leans, restless and unknowingly For it lies awake with the screams of a rifle, the screeching audibilty of ghostly  mutterings, the camaraderie caught on flesh, between the teeth of craved monarchy For the tomorrow lies awake near the history. For the past suffocates the vivacity Yclept the peace, yclept the tranquility! Which ground shall thine eternity crawl beneath? With anger, thou yelp, thou break, thou sleep A hymn of sigh deafens the petrifying serenity A sigh outraged with the murmur of life Seismic ephemerality tears the ground apart Barges in, the present, whispers a cry The tomorrow lies still over the chunks of calamity Lulled to sleep with the kiss of presence, With the screams of a distant enmity: The burial of time that has been cloistered around the anonymity The burial of the ceased, the past, as a euphemism The burial of the existence, the present, as    a mayhem The burial of the undone, the tomorrow, with a malediction All three in the same grave, punching the timeless, imminent reality they delineated Which ground shall thine eternity crawl beneath? With silence, thou shatter, thou question, thou sleep Down the ground quaffs the time Of a city that no longer breathes Out inundates the prayers of a dilemma For a country is to cleave Fidelity over a continuum, with faded prayers, shares a discourse Befuddled with an antinomy, it asks itself, how an epitaph shall be wrought? Down the ground swallows the confusion Of a city that no longer cries Now, which ground shall thine eternity crawl beneath? To be overwhelmed by a plenitude of halves In the name of peace, in the name of life! Which ground shall I die beneath? To lie awake with an eternal sleep I no longer whisper over the divided streets Not to awaken the past, not to revive the wounds and faded hymns I breathe in the dust, devouring the ceased For a divided city is to be kissed Down I no longer hold an impulse to scream: A gush of presence that arises a breeze That of which billowing up the grave Releasing a future for a road ahead With hope, I bawl, I defy, I beg Yclept the peace, in the name of solidarity!
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