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Paras Bajaj Sep 2017
Red lips and weird faces.
Star-like eyes and no traces.
Benevolent ways and eminently wise.
Little hell and little paradise.

Timeless beauty but compassionate.
Gold-like bright but great.
No wings but flies high.
Little hell and little paradise.

-Paras Bajaj #PoetrybyParas
Instagram : @mr.parasbajaj
Elemenohp Sep 2016
I have this one friend,
She is so full of life,
With her big bright eyes
And her smile so wide.

One could stare for days, at a single gaze
Struck upon their face from this feminine grace,
And feel relief, followed by a sense of pride.

Not every soul that walks this world
Has a kindness such as hers.
Even back in her reckless days
True hatred never stirred.
Inspired by seeing a photo of my friend.
Donna Sep 2018
Compassion goes far
It can help someone achieve
Be a good teacher
Inspired by my youngest son who came home yesterday not knowing how to do his homework and was worried because the teacher is strict so me and Dean told him not to worry and go back and get the teacherr to explain it to him today and if my son doesn't get the help his needed than me or dean will ring up school to sort it out x a little time patience and compassion can make such a difference to someone's life x
Luz Hanaii Jul 2018
In pain and suffering, we feel the lash of correction
At times we don't understand why?
We see others laugh and carry on.
Yet we only see outwardly, what they wish us to see,
but they too have gone,
or will eventually go through the refining fires.
None of us can escape the molding hands.

The more we go through the easier one
-can relate to other's suffering and pain.
Pain educates the spirit if open to change,
conserves us humble and compassionate.

It is such a gift to be able to express your deepest feelings.
This is a special world of poetry with many dear hearts,
it's an oasis that keeps us sane.  To be part of those who have
loving hearts unspoiled by the harshness of the world and those
who dwell in it,  it's truly a blessing from above.

For those of us who are constantly challenged in many ways,
I send you my sincere prayers and love.
May you always be at peace, no matter the storms.
That no illness, person, situation or abuse
-can ever separate us from His loving and saving grace.
Sabila Siddiqui Dec 2018
When you lay there
thinking your life does not matter,
every exhalation meaningless
every unfaltered lub dub wasted.
Go out there
and make a difference in someone's life.

Help,
be compassionate
give yourself a sense of purpose.

Because it is then
when you will breathe life
into your life.

When you will find
yourself grounded and rooted
rather than swaying like the wind
and allowing time
to slip like grains of sand unnoticed.

Allow fluffy clouds
of magical wisps
to fill your head
and propel you forward
to fill you with color
and life.

So choose to bring peace and joy
to someone else and yourself
for you will not be just be surviving
but bringing significant difference
in your own beautiful way.
Alpha.
Dopamine Hit For The Data-Addict

Beta.
Conscious Experience

Gamma.
Being Is A Category

Delta.
The Existential Is Ours To Warp As We See Fit

Epsilon.
This Iris Brimming With Choice Or Judgement

Zeta.
Dialectics Of Thought

Eta.
Rapturous Olympus

[Heta].
Exile Vilify

Theta.
Sublime/Oblivious

Iota.
Romantic ******'s American Dream

[Kappa].
Devise Your Own Philosophy

Lambda.
Wake Up "Mr. Freeman"

Mu.
Recurring (Socratic) Anachronism

Nu.
History Is Written, Rewrite Politics

Omicron.
Zero-Summing

Pi.
Listen To The Moon

[Qoppa].
How Many Dimensions

Rho.
Be The Compassionate Arbiter

Sigma.
Humanity Is A Joint Effort,
Mastery Is A Sole Exploit

Tau.
Some Sick Fiend

Upsilon.
Welcome To Wonderland

Phi.
Philosophy At A Rave

Digamma.
Thus "The Symbionts Were Born"

Chi.
Found In A Maze Of Spring Empathy

Psi.
Pharmahuasca Maelstrom Drank The Earth

Omega.
Ion Chaser Ate A Hurricane
{[Greek-Alphabet](Definite)}
Carter Ginter Dec 2018
I feel so torn
I love them a lot
Except I feel like
I can't love them as freely as I want to
Because they remind me of an ex
I want so desperately to let go of
I want to move on with my life
And to love them entirely for them
Without the ripples of her
Skating across my perception
I feel trapped in my mind sometimes
Living through past memories
That only make me feel sadness now
And I wonder if that closure I seek
Can occur if I can forgive myself
For hurting her so much
How can I take responsibility and
Embrace my faults and mistakes
While also forgiving myself for them?
Forgive myself for hurting her?
Especially after realizing that
My emotional unavailability caused it
And I understand that I must remain compassionate
And I must accept the things I cannot change
It's just hard not to shame myself
When the blame fits so perfectly
In the palms of my hands
Vicki Kralapp Aug 2013
Softly you sing, so sweetly my dear,
like a songbird repeating what I so long to hear.
The lyrical songs to which I respond,
make me feel like the one to which you belong.

Like a wave on the ocean your crests lift me high,
with your words and your kindness they help me to fly.
Like the swarms of small birds that fly out to sea
our love has now grown into what it should be.

We have been to the heights of the heavens beyond
and you've been in my heart and my soul all along.
Can you remember the time that we weren't so blessed,
when our life was not one but just two with a wish?

For a wonderful, blissful and compassionate love
a union ordained from blessed heaven above.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Vicki Kralapp Sep 2013
As surely as heaven exists above,
you have found your way into my heart;
your magical voice and hypnotic smile,
your whole being speaks silently to mine.

Your eyes dance in the morning light,
so kind and compassionate,
as they smile beneath canopies of lashes
and move me without a sound.

I cannot forget the times you called to me,
your soul joining mine as we stole away.
My forever love, though only in memory you live.
I keep you alive in dreams wrapped in your arms.

You carry me with you far outside this world,
with your extraordinary reigns on my heart.
Sweep me away with a love I cannot resist,
to a special life for just us two.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Be patient.
     His heart is guarded and he has built walls around himself to keep others out. He deflects with humor and light words, he deflects by always being “okay”, he deflects by comically dunking on you—but one day his dams will break and his walls will crumble. You need to be patient for the day that this will happen. You need to be patient for the day that he will truly let you in, let you peek at his raw emotions, let you marvel at his strengths and weaknesses. Maybe it will not happen all at once, maybe it will happen as slowly as a river carves a canyon out of rock. You must be patient with him.

Be kind.
     He needs kindness like we all need air to breathe. He might not always think so, but he needs kind words, encouraging messages, thoughtful gestures. He needs kindness, the world hasn’t shown him enough of it.

Be compassionate.
     He pretends he doesn’t need these kind, gentle touches and kind, gentle words but he does. He is a desert parched for soft rainfall—give it to him. Be compassionate when he opens up about his mental health, his deepest fears, his family, and those who he loves. He is a man who loves deeply, and you must love deeply too. He is a man who cares deeply, and you must care deeply too.

Be understanding.
     He carries a lot of pain and a lot of tragedy—he has been dealt bad hand after bad hand. But he is trying. He is growing. He is making progress. Be understanding of his needs and his journey, be understanding of him.

Be resilient.
     He will try to shut down his feelings and shut out the world—it’s his tried and true way of survival. Don’t leave him just because he needs to do a hard reset on his emotions. Don’t leave him just because he seems like he’s okay. Don’t leave him just because he’s quiet when it rains. Don’t leave him just because he tries to push you away in his silence. Be resilient and never ending in your reassurance of him. Remind him quietly, or loudly, that he is yours and you’re not leaving.

Be honest.
     You must continually be honest because he’s been lied to, too many times. You must be honest and forceful whenever he refuses to accept compliments, because his truth about himself is poisoned by the pain he’s carried around in his lifetime. You must be honest with what you’re feeling, he just wants to help you and he cannot read your mind. You must be honest in letting him in. You must trust him and be honest in return.

Be yourself.
     He has no tolerance for fake smiles, fake feelings, or fake people. He has no need or want for mistruths, half-spun lies, or false claims. He needs authenticity. He needs someone who is genuine. He needs someone who said what they said and did what they did...maybe someone with the ability to know if they were wrong but not lie about their missteps. He needs someone who will show him all of their highs and lows, someone who will be unafraid of who they are, someone who will proudly be who they are instead of who they think he wants.

Be strong.
     He has been strong for everyone else for far too long. He needs someone to lean on, someone to support his aching arms, someone strong enough to share the weight he carries. He needs someone that will allow him to feel as deeply as he needs to, to be as weak as he needs to be. Be strong and be bold—for he is strong and bold, and needs the same to thrive.

Be hungry.
     He has a hunger for life, for laughter, for enjoyment, for smiling, for telling stories, for eating at his favorite Mexican places, for playing his favorite games. He has a bottomless hunger for affection, for great hamburgers, for passion, for art, for beautiful words, for learning new things, for dogs & cats, for white chocolate mochas, for jokes. You must be hungry enough to keep up with his appetite.

Be protective.
     He has been hurt too many times and he needs shelter from the world. He still cares so readily, so openly, and still gets hurt time and time again. Be protective of his sweetness, his softness, of his gentle moments. Be protective of his weaknesses, his shortcomings, of his darkest moments. Keep them safe, hold them close to you and protect them. Keep him safe, hold him close to you and protect him.

Be ready. Of course be prepared, but also:
   Be ready to laugh. He is the funniest man I know. He uses humor to show those around him that he cares. He uses humor to show those around him that he’s okay. He wields humor like a knight wields a sword to protect himself and others. Be ready to laugh, but be ready to see through his humor.      
     Be ready to adventure. He needs adventure. He needs little adventures throughout the days and months in trying new things and going new places. He needs big adventures to draw him out of his comfort zone, to take him to new cuisines and maybe new countries.
     Be ready to love. You will fall in love with him and his ocher eyes and calloused hands and strong shoulders. You need to be ready, because whether that love happens all at once like summer storm-clouds pour rain on cornfields or whether it grows slowly from a seedling to a honeysuckle vine twining through your heart and squeezing it, you will fall in love with him and you must be ready.
     Be ready to wake up early. He is a morning person and he wants someone to fix him/help him fix/help him pick breakfast. He is a morning person that wants to roll around in the sheets and play with your hair and skim his hand up and down your arm while you’re half awake. He is a morning person who wants to listen to music to start his day even though he almost never sings in the shower. He is a morning person by necessity who has come to love it by nature; try to get up and see sunrises with him, try to get up and share the breakfast table with him, try to get up and see him first thing in the morning with sleep in the corner of his eyes and a deep rumble in his chest.
     Be ready to listen. He has so many stories in his mind, in his eyes, and on his tongue that need to be told. From the stories of his day, the jokes of his coworkers, the songs he loves, the recipes he watches, the feelings he shares, the games he loves, right down to the things he doesn’t say aloud...he needs someone ready to listen.

Be steadfast.
     He needs commitment. He needs a white picket fence and a dog and two or three children. He needs someone to always hold his hand and stand by his side. He needs someone unafraid of his darkness. He needs someone steadfast, brave, loyal, etc. He needs someone to call his home. He needs someone who will look a storm in the eye, adjust her sails, and drop her anchors where she stands.

Be good.
     Actually, be better than good. Be better than great. He only deserves the best this world has to offer. Too often he is Atlas carrying his pain, others expectations, his past, his deep desires, and the world on his shoulders. He deserves the best to stand beside him and remind him he doesn’t have to be alone. He deserves the best of women to hold him through his lows and soar with him on his highs. Be yourself, but be the best version you can be. Because he deserves only the best this world can give him.
for ERJIII
X A V I E R Nov 2014
Bring your body and give it
as if it's a weekly allowance,
a favor you owe or do you,
perhaps, yearn for a place
back inside his heart?

What does it take to stay
warm on a cold night?
The smell of burning wood
or something more - your
knitted wool blanket that's not
just a piece of cloth?
It's soft touch became the
liaison between two young bodies
and let you truly feel.

Feel his gentle touch and
the warmth of his eyes.
Legs tangle and long sighs
ignite the room rendering
your knitted wool blanket
useless. Compassionate
whispers of half truths clutter
the mind as his head clears:
"Please, be the love that I am sure of."
Esteban D Pitre Sep 2014
Cockroaches in striped pajamas
stained by the scent of snow-melted blood
under a compassionate moon.
No reflection to admire
other than the eyes of a thousand
miserable and sordid puppets
with shaven heads and wooden clogged shoes.

God and their souls
murdered by a vile evolution,
crucibles of Jewish remains.
Rabbis and priests,
scholars and the poor:
moving targets with stars on their sleeves.

Naked souls waited,
listening to the gods of old Germany.
“Zieh dich aus! (Take off your clothes!)”
They shouted, pushing
them further into the chamber.
The doors
closed shut behind them.
A deathly fog clouded
among them,
putting them to drown
under a thick green darkness.
Agonized voices
shredded apart
as their nails clawed
at the concrete walls.
Women and children held each other tight,
whispering Kaddish,
hoping and praying.

Twenty minutes
of shouting and stumbling,
Twenty minutes
of spluttering and gargling.
The little ones witness the eyes
of their guardians writhe and turn white,
as their bodies jolted
as their lives were stolen.

The gods finally entered
to clear the room,
to pile the dead onto the carts,
to visit the crematorium.
To finally shovel the mounds of
striped clothing,
to recycle and burn the rest.

But this end comes
as a sweet release
as their ashes
were sent through the chimneys
and into the air
to rest in their graves.
Axion Prelude Dec 2017
I am guilty of treason against my own heart in ever losing faith that I would come know another soul of such passionate discourse; rapt through compassionate dissonance; endearing and kind, and warm

I've never experienced beauty of this nature, and if ever I could not find a single voice beyond what resonates with me here, I would still invariably be forever content
It was in the spring,
season of new birth
that I first saw you,
weeping in a stand of
wonder that you had
sown.

You seemed then
as a grass, tall as all
the rest yet distinct,
caught in a wind,
and the scent
of blossoms.
You danced, and your
music wound its
way to the sky
and brought
the birds.

As the dawn through
a roof of young leaves
your coming woke me,
and showed me a world
of such beauty that
I felt alive, in a way
I had almost forgotten.

You were the dawn,
and the breeze in
Springtime; you were
wild and you were calm,
carefree and sorrowful,
heartless and compassionate,
thoughtless and full of
knowings. In my ignorance
you were a discord,
a tumble of notes that
proved beautiful,
despite itself. In my
ignorance you were a
wonder. In my knowledge
you are a miracle,
far beyond the reasons
of your being.

You asked if I would
remember you, and in
my heart I laughed as
well as wept. For how
could I not? To ask if I
would forget you, who
had brought such fervor
to my life; such joy.

It was beyond foolishness.

If I weep, forgive me,
for I could wish for
nothing more than to
make you smile; it is
this love in my heart
that does not permit it.

In love I say,
I will remember.
I will remember.
I will remember.
In love.


Farewell.
CeriseRed May 2016
I want to be nobody
Never given any attention
I want to be somebody
Ever embrace of applause
I should to know anybody
Grasp the knowledge of unknown
Hence, I should use to be everybody.

To make myself into someone...

Someone who is nobody,
Ever invisible
Someone who is somebody
Never expired
Someone who knows anybody
Ever compassionate
Someone who uses to be everybody
Never granted, never ashamed.
I hate myself; I hate that I encourage them but I had *no one* I can keep. I may have still loneliness in my blood, right? I don't know if they didn't saw the blues on me (for keeping and showing don't help) either if they do care for me. Either way, still, I chose to stay.

Oh age of my youth, why so cruel to me?
Commuter Poet Mar 2016
This world is
An incredible place

Home to billions
Of living entities

8.7 million species
Each contributing
Their own living efforts

Every ant, that moves a leaf
Every bird that builds a nest
Every fish that joins a shoal
Every ray of sun that warms the earth
Every rain drop that falls
Creates an interconnected symphony
Of possibilities

Making the world

Nutritious
Dynamic
Evolutionary
Compassionate

Home

What a miracle to co-exist with it all
What a miracle!
6th March 2016
ryn Aug 2014
There are many different masks that adorn my wall
Always at the ready for such time they would be needed
Each one of them summoned to answer a specific call
Each one of them used so that the truth can't be uncovered

With time and wear these masks grow all the more necessary
They protect me from situations that render me vulnerable
Kept contained all the emotions that I wish to bury
Kept in check all of my thoughts so I stay capable

I've had these masks for as long as I can remember
Afraid if they have begun to redefine the true me
They assume their roles seamlessly as if it's second nature
Their roles they would assume without fail, ever so diligently

But as much as they would protect from my own naivety
They also would protect others from the words that I wield
These poison-laden words fueled by my poor misguided sanity
Could easily stab and wound if not for the masks that shield

Often wondered these masks if I've ever taken them off
And function as is without hiding behind bolted doors
Would I be able to walk the line without temptation to scoff
Will I be compassionate yet honest; without causing new-found sores

Such a tough questions to which the answers I know not
Despite having pondered till my head grew sore and weary
Something I should have done before delving in deep thought
Is to now remove the mask that my face does carry
YH Sep 2018
I realize I am too compassionate;
I feel everything at a 100% rate,
and I loathe it so much.
Why do they come on so strong all the time;
it mentally drains me.

I am destined to die early;
I can't see myself living past my mid-thirties.
I learn how to accept death as it is,
and I am slowly learning how to let go.

I want to cry, I want to scream;
I want to voice out this indecipherable torment inside of me.
But no one will understand,
and no one will know;
this mask of mine can't be taken off.

It is what I desire,
yet I want to scream the truth out to the world;
my alternating flow of thoughts,
my constant battle;
it goes down with me to the grave.

This happiness is an illusion;
There's a second mind that takes over,
and blocks away all of the hopelessness.
It brings forth a temporary elation,
a nonchalance,
a pretentious ease.

Is this better?
Does it make me better?
Or does this delude me to the point
where I become more destructive
and cause more harm than cure?

Why does my mind run so much?
Why does this version of me exist?

Because I am born empathetic.
Because I am human.
Because I hold a great understanding of myself,
and a greater awareness of how I am.

But not behind in the how it came to be.

No one holds the answer, and I am forever left with questioning all these endless why's and how's.

Everything else is left unanswered

perhaps until the day I die.

— Y.H.

the end of the tunnel,
gentle fervor.
my mind drifts sometimes
as though it's sinking deep into the abyss of water
sometimes i'm afraid it sinks so far
that it never comes back up to the surface again
that i would never see the light another time

but maybe there never was a light
and i've been sinking all this while
further, and further
and the sight of light was only once in a dream

(c) Y.H.
Brandon Scully Jul 2018
.................................................................­...............
Calm, like a lake on a warm summers day,
Soft, like a pillow, duvet or mattress,
but
Firm and strong, feisty and fun.
she's beautiful:
her long blonde hair,
her kind blue eyes,
her everything.
sweet as if she were made purely of sugar
and
kind and compassionate like no other.

she was fun and silly,
she was Happy just to see me.
she didn't care about anything,

and now...
She's Gone
...
........................................................­.....................
...
I crave
The smell of old books,
The aroma of coffee shops,
The touch of the rain
And the feel of the sun on my face

Deep conversations
About the meaning of our purpose
Discovering ourselves
Uncovering ourselves
From all our disguises
And fake faces

I want the truth
The feeling of true connection,
with compassionate eyes
That understand mine.

The feeling of the earth
With my bare feet

I will open up and tear myself apart
Pour myself over
Like a cup of tea
To find my sweet.

It will be worth it
Amanda Jean Oct 2016
Throat chakra ******* blocked
Happiness set back
Marijuana is in
Me pushing
For something

Alcohol on the brink of my lips!
Let me ******* breathe.
Let me take a ******* break.
Let me sink into a ******* hole.
Let me fly out of the ******* sky-
FREE ME!
FREE ME!
FREE ME!

Paranoia is on set
******* slenderman or saints
I can't be soothed!
I can't be stopped!

I was made for greatness
I was made for better than this
My heart beats with the power of our people
Thumping with thoughts from ancestors
I ******* feel it
What the **** am I feeling?
Let it out!
Let it out!
Let it out!
*******...
Let.
It.
Go.
****!

Use me
Feel me
FEEL ME

Borders untouched
Inlands unkempt
Swirling clouds of unstoppable chaos
Raining down with compassionate entities

They say welcome
We say
Welcome
Welcome
Welcome
They sing it
We scream it

We breathe everything into existence
They say its about time
You have been here before
You have been lost
But you are here now
Welcome home

We are high
We are low
We are falling and flying
and feeling and *******
Making some kind of use
In this physical
*******
LIFE

(Cant go there anymore
Cut off
Cut back
GET OUT OF MY HEAD
OUTTA MY MIND)
Amanda Noel Jul 3
A horse would pull me
while on the go,
Sometimes we were fast,
sometimes we were slow.

We’d roll for days
making a few stops,
The things that I’ve seen
would make your jaw drop.

One day the man got a car,
with those wheels he could go very far.
No longer useful
I sat in the yard,
No longer wanted,
I stood on guard,

For a day I would be needed
to level a cart,
I guess It went unoticed,
that I had a broken heart.

He left me here
to rot and rust,
my only purpose now
is to collect dust.

As soon as a better thing came along,
he hopped on the ride
while singing a song.
No thought or regard
of what had been left behind,
No man is compassionate, caring, or kind.

I now sit here
until moved again,
But I will nevermore
be a travelers friend.
This is an idea I had when I was visiting a small mountain town. There was an old wheel leaning against a tree in the yard of the house. It was the only one, forgotten about, collecting dust and spider webs, riddled with rust. Reminded me of all the ideas I have had, and forgotten about, because a new idea or inspiration struck.
Commuter Poet Nov 2017
Which path to take?

Become lost 
And follow destruction?

Or find 
A truer way
And live with the higher self?

A self that does not blame others
A self that strives to live humanely
A self that creates 
And does not destroy 

Which person to become?

Embattled, defeated
Drifting, rootless?

Or strong, grounded
Honest, compassionate

Which path to take?

I may need a guide, kind and true.
I may need a friend, clear and strong
I may need support 
To help me climb the many steps

All are there, 

But 

Which path to take?
10th November 2017
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