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Turned to nothing
By just a phrase
Spoken from anger
When deep in rage
Told I was nothing
By my own blood
It hurts a little
But not too much
Shortened with a different title
 Jul 2020 OpenWorldView
Traveler
Farther and farther
Getting nowhere
Landing hard
Trying to run
Spinning out
Losing traction
Oh dear god
What have I done

Stinging sweat
Tunnel vision
Barking dogs
On my trail
Alarm clock rings
Time to get up
Life is one long dream
In hell
............
Traveler Tim
 Jul 2020 OpenWorldView
Eloisa
I’m stuck scared in the dark wars
my soul has been fighting for so long.
Where the colors of freedom
are as lightless as my dreams.
A place where I thought
I’ve built
my own path,
With gleaming rose petals I scattered
as guide
when I couldn’t find my way home.
And as I continue to travel
the route of strength and despair,
Begging to dance with me,
the healing light came.
But my muddy, mangled feet seemed
unresponsive and silent.
My heart’s withering and weakening.
My soul’s totally worsening.
The sky went gray again
and the dark clouds rolled in.
But nothing can totally dim
my valorous heart that shines within.
I got up and started dancing my prayers with my heartbeat as music.
My body resonated with love
and the light’s most powerful healing.
A melodious, creative cosmic rhythm wrapped my entire being.
With the ethereal light continued
to dance through every tiny cell of me.
Mending,
Surviving,
In these blustery storms,
I’m still dancing.
In my mind
I have been living
Three separate lives
Simultaneously
Interrogating  the presence of
My individual realization,

In the mirror I am
This voodoo man
He weaves a spell
Turning heaven into hell,
Like the Wild Wild West
Pain, sorrow are his paths
Where He cries everyone’s tears
A vulnerability that’s too real,
His collective realization ,

In the mirror I am
this understanding man
Who lingers in a pathway
That offers solace
A momentarily reprieve
From all that ails him
Where laughter still comes,
My higher realization ,

Then again

In the mirror I am
That man with the wings ,
Where I stay high above all
Turns hell into heaven
Where the light remains lit
In the darkness that is mine.

Sweet magical man
With a magical heart.

In the mirror all at once!
I Don’t Belong Here!
Oh, my birthplace
You're filled with goodness
Oh my motherland
You're filled with happiness
Oh, my birthplace!

The cold air in the early sunshine
these all pleasure are mine
There really is no place
without your loving things

Your melody plays in green forests
give me joy and gladness
and the hair of your paddy field
makes me surprised!
These things make me happy.

The tunes and songs of birds
and the pretty smelling flowers
make my soul smile and cold
I'd catch your moon shines!
BE
It is possible to fall in love with a place at first sight
From the first time I came there
I fell in love with this place
Where I always get the peace that I need.
I needed to find a refuge-
My certainties were simply my uncertainties,
Until I met you.
I come to tell you my pain.
As I would say to my mom:
A pathetic but comic refuge.
You are the only interpreter of my silences,
of painful impotence.
My dad says I spend a lot of time with you.
My mom says I'm always sad when I'm with you.
My brothers think I'm depressed because I visit you.
And you, you say nothing.
Because you understand me. You are different too!
The hours pass, the days pass.
These become night and I still got this feeling.
You remind me of my previous lives where I was unhappily happy.
October 8th, the leaves of your trees fall, different colors:
Yellow, brown, red, orange ...
The wind caresses my skin and reminds me of the tea country.
You transport me into a state of melancholy and nostalgia.
January 8th, the light snowflakes fall so silently.
The whispered snowstorm that gives way to sadness and reminds me of the town of Cervantes.
Still in melancholy and nostalgia.
April 8th, new green shoots smoky green, the clouds pass over the youth field ...
I see the leaves trembling, the fresh rains of April.
You remind me of "Pacific pearl".
There is memory, but not nostalgia
...
October 8th, beautiful autumn leaves.
Yellow ones, dries, romantic ones. They fall around:
Wrapping me in silence, bandaging my heart
Healing that wound and massaging the pain.
I don't know if I will live a fifth life, but if I do, I would like to remember you.
You, who listened to me in the silence of pain.
There is memory but not nostalgia.
There is no pain but the wound that will heal.
There is hope in this jungle that rushes me.
And all, thanks to you. To you, dear friend, little sun radiant in the dark.
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