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"khalil" poems
"Do not love half lovers Do not entertain half friends Do not indulge in works of the half talented Do not live half a life and do not die a half death If you choose silence, then be silent When you speak, do so until you are finished Do not silence yourself to say something And do not speak to be silent If you accept, then express it bluntly Do not mask it If you refuse then be clear about it for an ambiguous refusal is but a weak acceptance Do not accept half a solution Do not believe half truths Do not dream half a dream Do not fantasize about half hopes Half a drink will not quench your thirst Half a meal will not satiate your hunger Half the way will get you nowhere Half an idea will bear you no results Your other half is not the one you love It is you in another time, yet in the same space It is you when you are not Half a life is a life you didn't live, A word you have not said A smile you postponed A love you have not had A friendship you did not know To reach and not arrive Work and not work Attend only to be absent What makes you a stranger to them closest to you, and they strangers to you The half is a mere moment of inability, but you are able for you are not half a being. You are a whole that exists to live a life, not half a life." --Khalil Gibran
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Jul 14, 2016
Jul 14, 2016 at 12:14 AM UTC
Untitled
You texted me a hello and a Happy New Year You asked how I was doing and I responded “Doing Well” I returned your question of “How are you doing” I followed after with “Did you have a good New Year’s Eve” You kept your responses simple and vague You left my second question hanging by only answering with ‘Working a lot’ and stating how happy you were to hear I was doing well Your short, simple responses gave nothing away About what has occurred in your life Since the last time we had a willing and connected conversation The way you responded left me to wonder The reason why you contacted me Your distant responses made it very clear That this would be the last time you and I would ever talk This is the end of the two of us The end of you and I The end of any possibility of you and I being one As I quietly sit in the Marketing Room Thinking about the obvious next step I waiver on my decision to delete your number off my Blackberry forever I questioned whether I would regret this decision Then an old quote by Khalil Gibran came to me: “If you love somebody let them go, for if they return, they were always yours. And if they don’t, they never were.” Believing the truth behind his words, I proceeded to clearing our messages And deleting your number off my phone Until next time.. If there is one.. Only time will tell..
0
Mar 29, 2015
Mar 29, 2015 at 2:43 AM UTC
The End of Us
Waiting for him, Was like a, Mindless abyss. I thought, This time I should give it a shot. Add plus venture, Into a realm full with pleasures of flesh. Rather waiting to lie  in sepulcher. Thence came the wooers, On horses, chariots, planes and cars, Courted me to the foreign lands of brand new emotions. Greasy, exotic, curious  and even obscure , To satiate my hunger, They poured, And I sinfully devoured. Ooooh! A whip here. Ouuch! A tickle there. Aahhhhh!! The sheer unfolding of their classy work. Every night lusciously they came, Wrapped me in an awe of satire, skepticism and imagination, Not to say of the bruises they gave, Tears I shed of Anger,Pain ,Love and Hate. Still I  followed them blindly and agape, Because a new world in me was taking shape. Of Shakespeare, Freud, Tolstoy, Eliot, Byron, Wordsworth and my then fav, the great Gabriel Garcia Marquez. A medley  of fantasy, fact-fiction, comedy, realism and romance. Oh! What not I chanced upon. All emphasizing emotion, imagination, scientific and natural thought. There was no stopping of these gnawing hunger pangs, None lasted more than a one night stand. The foolish me, unaware, cascaded in the fatal encounters, Not knowing the pangs are of soul to reach the supreme ****** Thence came a Seer The Prophet, The Wanderer, The Forerunner, It was as if he can rip me with his thoughts, And see my soul through that tear….. I distinctly remember that divine night, The moment I held him in my desirous hands, I was no more in dual fight. Things started falling into place, Was no more in that abysmal space. Still I would say, It’s a current phase. This soon would also evade. New Lover , For every new night… To cut a long story short, Just so, Because of your low attention span, The lover, the poet , the wooer Was the great Khalil Gibran.
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Jul 5, 2010
Jul 5, 2010 at 1:05 PM UTC
******** Blues
Waiting for him, Was like a, Mindless abyss. I thought, This time I should give it a shot. Add plus venture, Into a realm full with pleasures of flesh. Rather waiting to lie  in sepulcher. Thence came the wooers, On horses, chariots, planes and cars, Courted me to the foreign lands of brand new emotions. Greasy, exotic, curious  and even obscure , To satiate my hunger, They poured, And I sinfully devoured. Ooooh! A whip here. Ouuch! A tickle there. Aahhhhh!! The sheer unfolding of their classy work. Every night lusciously they came, Wrapped me in an awe of satire, skepticism and imagination, Not to say of the bruises they gave, Tears I shed of Anger,Pain ,Love and Hate. Still I  followed them blindly and agape, Because a new world in me was taking shape. Of Shakespeare, Freud, Tolstoy, Eliot, Byron, Wordsworth and my then fav, the great Gabriel Garcia Marquez. A medley  of fantasy, fact-fiction, comedy, realism and romance. Oh! What not I chanced upon. All emphasizing emotion, imagination, scientific and natural thought. There was no stopping of these gnawing hunger pangs, None lasted more than a one night stand. The foolish me, unaware, cascaded in the fatal encounters, Not knowing the pangs are of soul to reach the supreme ****** Thence came a Seer The Prophet, The Wanderer, The Forerunner, It was as if he can rip me with his thoughts, And see my soul through that tear….. I distinctly remember that divine night, The moment I held him in my desirous hands, I was no more in dual fight. Things started falling into place, Was no more in that abysmal space. Still I would say, It’s a current phase. This soon would also evade. New Lover , For every new night… To cut a long story short, Just so, Because of your low attention span, The lover, the poet , the wooer Was the great Khalil Gibran.
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59
Lisa Nelle had two names like a pornstar. She'd put her makeup on and stick all this blackness on under her eyes like she was holding night in bags. We watched Hey Arnold! DVDs at five in the morning, and smoked the whole place up. Sometimes her and Alexis would go in the back room. Alexis never liked me. Lisa Nelle had this way of looking at you where she'd take her eyes and she'd work her way down to your stomach. She could find a star in my intestines, a dwarf light could warble in my stomach and she'd see it through my belly button. She'd pull it out wings and all and tell me that Khalil knew the answers. Out of this two-ton purse she carried around, she'd whip out a compilation of Khalil Gibran. One time she told me how her father used to pull her hair and thighs. She didn't say anything about it again. When we tripped shrooms, she took my hands and put them on her neck and asked me to feel for the nebulas underneath her skin. When I read some of the stuff you send me, the emails, texts or poems, I can't help but wonder how many words I now know as a result of you that I wouldn't know if I hadn't been looking around for bud and someone I knew that knew you. I'm sorry Lisa Nelle, that things didn't work out with you and Alexis when they did with you and Sabrosa. Sometimes I hate myself too.
0
Mar 9, 2012
Mar 9, 2012 at 8:56 PM UTC
Beautiful Women can be Lesbians Too.
Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding. It is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self. Therefore, trust the physician and drink his remedy in silence and tranquility." - Khalil Gibran That quote inspired what I wrote because pain is a constant in this cruel world And in all reality our pain is inspired by the struggles we've gone through, so it may not be easy but to medicate and starting the process of healing is on you.  Others may have caused what you're going through but it's up to you to make it better, because even if it's raining now there's always a chance for better weather
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Aug 22, 2016
Aug 22, 2016 at 12:02 AM UTC
The Physician
"Do not love half lovers Do not entertain half friends Do not indulge in works of the half talented Do not live half a life and do not die a half death If you choose silence, then be silent When you speak, do so until you are finished Do not silence yourself to say something And do not speak to be silent If you accept, then express it bluntly Do not mask it If you refuse then be clear about it for an ambiguous refusal is but a weak acceptance Do not accept half a solution Do not believe half truths Do not dream half a dream Do not fantasize about half hopes Half a drink will not quench your thirst Half a meal will not satiate your hunger Half the way will get you no where Half an idea will bear you no results Your other half is not the one you love It is you in another time yet in the same space It is you when you are not Half a life is a life you didn’t live, A word you have not said A smile you postponed A love you have not had A friendship you did not know To reach and not arrive Work and not work Attend only to be absent What makes you a stranger to them closest to you and they strangers to you The half is a mere moment of inability but you are able for you are not half a being You are a whole that exists to live a life not half a life.” -Khalil Gibran
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Nov 1, 2015
Nov 1, 2015 at 6:58 AM UTC
/Live/
# *Would that I could gather your houses into my hand, and like a sower scatter them in forest and meadow. Would the valleys were your streets, and the green paths your alleys, that you might seek one another through vineyards, and come with the fragrance of the earth in your garments. But these things are not yet to be. In their fear your forefathers gathered you too near together. And that fear shall endure a little longer. A little longer shall your city walls separate  your hearths from your fields. And tell me, people of OrphaIese, what have you in these houses? And what is it you guard with fastened doors? Have you peace, the quiet urge that reveals your power? Have you remembrances.. the glimmering arches that span the summits of the mind? Have you beauty, that leads the heart from things fashioned of wood and stone to the holy mountain? Tell me, have you these in your houses? Or have you only comfort, and the lust for comfort, that stealthy thing that enters the house a guest, ..and then becomes a host and then a master? Ay, and it becomes a tamer, and with hook and scourge makes puppets of your larger desires. Though its hands are silken, its heart is of iron. It lulls you to sleep only to stand by your bed and jeer at the dignity of the flesh. It makes mock of your sound senses, and lays them in thistledown like fragile vessels. Verily the lust for comfort murders the passion of the soul, and then walks grinning in the funeral. But you, children of space, you restless in rest, you shall not be trapped nor tamed. Your house shall be not an anchor but a mast. It shall not be a glistening film that covers a wound, but an eyelid that guards the eye. You shall not fold your wings that you may pass through doors, nor bend your heads that they strike not against a ceiling, nor fear to breathe  lest walls should crack and fall down. You shall not dwell in tombs made by the dead for the living. And though of magnificence and splendor, your house shall not hold your secret nor shelter your longing. For that which is boundless in you abides in the mansion of the sky, whose door is the morning mist, and whose windows are the songs and the silences of night.* ~ Khalil Gibran #
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Dec 19, 2021
Dec 19, 2021 at 7:17 PM UTC
houses
# *Would that I could gather your houses into my hand, and like a sower scatter them in forest and meadow. Would the valleys were your streets, and the green paths your alleys, that you might seek one another through vineyards, and come with the fragrance of the earth in your garments. But these things are not yet to be. In their fear your forefathers gathered you too near together. And that fear shall endure a little longer. A little longer shall your city walls separate  your hearths from your fields. And tell me, people of OrphaIese, what have you in these houses? And what is it you guard with fastened doors? Have you peace, the quiet urge that reveals your power? Have you remembrances.. the glimmering arches that span the summits of the mind? Have you beauty, that leads the heart from things fashioned of wood and stone to the holy mountain? Tell me, have you these in your houses? Or have you only comfort, and the lust for comfort, that stealthy thing that enters the house a guest, ..and then becomes a host and then a master? Ay, and it becomes a tamer, and with hook and scourge makes puppets of your larger desires. Though its hands are silken, its heart is of iron. It lulls you to sleep only to stand by your bed and jeer at the dignity of the flesh. It makes mock of your sound senses, and lays them in thistledown like fragile vessels. Verily the lust for comfort murders the passion of the soul, and then walks grinning in the funeral. But you, children of space, you restless in rest, you shall not be trapped nor tamed. Your house shall be not an anchor but a mast. It shall not be a glistening film that covers a wound, but an eyelid that guards the eye. You shall not fold your wings that you may pass through doors, nor bend your heads that they strike not against a ceiling, nor fear to breathe  lest walls should crack and fall down. You shall not dwell in tombs made by the dead for the living. And though of magnificence and splendor, your house shall not hold your secret nor shelter your longing. For that which is boundless in you abides in the mansion of the sky, whose door is the morning mist, and whose windows are the songs and the silences of night.* ~ Khalil Gibran #
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48
He is not only my past, what I see, seeminly la dangerous eternity when he speaks he speaks of all antiquities religiously He is here with me I'm tearin' B I want him to be my past present and future but I can't seem to past my past because it speeds up fast takes me away with one clap hypnotized in my mind blinded by the near by motions and wavelength that surround my cloud nine is this divine? to feel this pain but maintain the strength gained with every moment passing, with every holding string striving to achieve higher consciousness so i can free the mindful brain get that NOS boost to lift me from being criminally insane Clean like Poland spring. Time to tame The fiercest Beauty in the land The evil eye has come to tear her to shreds but she can't let that happen again Its a time for healing, a time for growth pruning this rose bush once again because I'm committed, its my oath.
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Aug 31, 2013
Aug 31, 2013 at 3:50 AM UTC
Khalil
Khalil Dridi Chwaya sabr wallah ----------------------------- love of my life just a little patience wallah
0
Aug 20, 2016
Aug 20, 2016 at 10:37 PM UTC
Untitled
"i've been down a minute and i've been trying to find my way home" everything changed. i've lost everyone. or almost. dad who used to be my adviser is away and busy and i can't upset him with my stories right now he'll get worried about me and he and mom are don't need anymore trouble right now. i may have to change schools for my own sake but i don't want to leave the one im already in. it's a hard thing to explain but my school is my environment that ******* place ***** you in with all these cliques and groupes and "friends" it's where i belong and don't belong at the same. i want to stay close to chalbi he's kind of a piece of sanity in that crazy ******** am i in love with him? or am i trying to make myself believe that because khalil is gone and i don't have anybody to love now? what about bahe? he loves me. what the **** is wrong with me? i want someone i can love and who doesnt love me back! what the **** i am ****** up n im sick of it and i wish people would give me a break. its either stay in the **** hole of a school with all the fake ******* and old friends and uncomfort but be at home or start off fresh in a new place and work hard because if i dont step up my game at school for this year and the next im for sure ****** but close to chalbi.....
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Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 4:25 PM UTC
11/08/2015
It is Saturday 9th July, She, being the strong willed one Picked him up and said hi Let's go for a walk, it'll be fun She drove around for a while Untill they found a perfect place An ancient woodland that made her smile And turned to the man that made her heart race They walked along the windy path Laughing and joking as they often did Finally he turns to her and makes a solemn oath That one day she would be the mother to his kid She often did that, deny those strong feeling she held for him Because somehow it doesn't feel right, But that was the day she indulged her every whim And told him he nicest and the greatest The was the day they admitted how they felt for one another When he got on one knee to propose When they knew together one day they would be mother and father This was the love she felt from her heart, to her stomach, her weak knees and her toes That's the thing about a love like this, It creeps into your heart so slowly but surely Before you'd even think about that first kiss You'll notice how his man was full of chivalry This is the man that would treat you with kindness and love Who would lay awake and watch you sleep Who's lips would fit yours like a well made glove Who would only bring you sadness if he left this world, that would make you weep I miss this man from the bottom of my heart I often lay away and ponder about all the moments that could've been Why my chest is empty with a beat that will no longer start Unable to fall asleep has become my regular routine My heart aches so so much, I can't even relay this into words I cry a river inside my soul But a single tear has not escaped Unlike the caged birds Of whom this was their only goal It was the 7th of July when I missed this meeting And again I missed it once more For our moments in this world were brief and fleeting But our love story will every book store Khalil Gibran said it best ' love not knows it's death till it's hour of seperation'
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Mar 10, 2017
Mar 10, 2017 at 3:40 PM UTC
7th July
It is Saturday 9th July, She, being the strong willed one Picked him up and said hi Let's go for a walk, it'll be fun She drove around for a while Untill they found a perfect place An ancient woodland that made her smile And turned to the man that made her heart race They walked along the windy path Laughing and joking as they often did Finally he turns to her and makes a solemn oath That one day she would be the mother to his kid She often did that, deny those strong feeling she held for him Because somehow it doesn't feel right, But that was the day she indulged her every whim And told him he nicest and the greatest The was the day they admitted how they felt for one another When he got on one knee to propose When they knew together one day they would be mother and father This was the love she felt from her heart, to her stomach, her weak knees and her toes That's the thing about a love like this, It creeps into your heart so slowly but surely Before you'd even think about that first kiss You'll notice how his man was full of chivalry This is the man that would treat you with kindness and love Who would lay awake and watch you sleep Who's lips would fit yours like a well made glove Who would only bring you sadness if he left this world, that would make you weep I miss this man from the bottom of my heart I often lay away and ponder about all the moments that could've been Why my chest is empty with a beat that will no longer start Unable to fall asleep has become my regular routine My heart aches so so much, I can't even relay this into words I cry a river inside my soul But a single tear has not escaped Unlike the caged birds Of whom this was their only goal It was the 7th of July when I missed this meeting And again I missed it once more For our moments in this world were brief and fleeting But our love story will every book store Khalil Gibran said it best ' love not knows it's death till it's hour of seperation'
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42
"Faith is an oasis in the heart which can never be reached by the caravans of thinking."
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Oct 23, 2018
Oct 23, 2018 at 4:44 PM UTC
From Khalil Gibran
SORROW Is Just A wall Between two gardens. Khalil Gibran.
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Apr 24, 2016
Apr 24, 2016 at 5:46 PM UTC
This, Thinkers, is Healing
Jubran Khalil Jubran died in New York, New York on this day in 1931 (aged 48). "For the first time the sun kissed my own naked face and my soul was inflamed with love for the sun, and I wanted my masks no more. And as if in a trance I cried, 'Blessed, blessed are the thieves who stole my masks.' Thus I became a madman." --from THE MADMAN (1918) by Khalil Gibran
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Apr 11, 2018
Apr 11, 2018 at 9:13 AM UTC
A Tribute to a Beautiful "Madman"
Between what is said and not meant, and what is meant and not said, most of the love is lost. -Khalil Gibran They were just empty words not promises. The meaning behind your words was lost somewhere between your fear and my ignorance. You eventually forgot to say that I have to solve the puzzle to get to the meaning for I am a lazy one and what you said was what I heard. What I said was full with my feelings. My words were straight but you were looking for deeper meaning and that’s when I lost too when my words were not enough for you to understand what I was saying. You meant you love me and I meant the same. But now our miscommunication has led to this lost love.
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Mar 30, 2018
Mar 30, 2018 at 3:03 AM UTC
Lost Love