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"lila" poems
Sumulat ako ng isang mahabang tula. Tungkol sa ulan na kailanma’y di tumila. Kahit na ito’y sadyang dalubhasa. Ito’y kailanma’y hindi mo mababasa. Sumulat ako ng isang mahabang tula. Tungkol sa telang nagkukulay na lila. Nagsimula ako na maligaya. Ito’y kailanma’y hindi mo mababasa. Sumulat ako ng isang mahabang tula. Tungkol sa nakabibighaning himala. Ako’y hindi makapaniwala’t napuno ng pag-asa. Ito’y kailanma’y di mo mababasa. Sumulat ako ng isang mahabang tula. Tungkol sa pagtingin sa kana’t kaliwa Puno ng salita’t walang maipakitang pruweba Ito’y kailanma’y hindi mo mababasa Sumulat ako ng isang mahabang tula. Tungkol sa isang nakakaawang ulila. Ako’y umuwi habang ang mata’y puno ng luha. Ito’y kailanma’y hindi mo mababasa Sumulat ako ng isang mahabang tula Tungkol sa pagsulat ng talata. Nagmuka akong walang utak na sanga Ito’y tapos mo nang mabasa
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Feb 20, 2017
Feb 20, 2017 at 11:16 AM UTC
Isang mahabang tula
Madalas magising sa murahan nila, Na daig pa ang ulan na walang tila, Kapayapaan sayo’y nangungulila, Tila naalayan na ng rosas na lila. Hanggang kailan kaya sila ganito, Hanggang ang isa ay sawa na sa mugto, Bakas ng kahapon nagsisilbing multo, Na ugat ng bawat ‘di pagkakasundo. Hanggang kailan kaya kayang tiisin, Lahat ng mga hinagpis at pasakit, Na dulot ng walang hanggang away, Kailan kaya sila maghihiwalay?
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Sep 12, 2015
Sep 12, 2015 at 4:51 AM UTC
Hanggang Kailan Kaya Sila Ganito?
Know throughout as Mohan the enchanter. or even Gopala or Govinda Jagganatha is known as Shri Krishna appeared in Gokul Many legends have been told with skin as Jambul as a jamun And flute music like the song of a bulbul Legends and stories carry on through rasleela, they are known through Krishna Lila, they are showcased but all throughout the king is born His radiance appearance of Jambul skin and a peacock feather or even crown in Tribhanga and his flute with sweets notes of love As a warrior in the battle of Kurukshetra Throughout the Mahabharata, he is known here he shared with Arjuna what is known as the Bhagavad Geeta Hare Krishna Hare Krishna, Krishna Krishna Hare Hare Hare Rama Hare Rama Rama Rama Hare Hare With this, I offer my salutations to you Oh Lord Krishna, Please accept my humble request to thee
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Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 10:18 AM UTC
My Humble Request To Thee
Nang makasabayan sa paglalakad, napatingin at napangiti Ang hubong sintido ay naghimok para mauna na pansinin Kapagkuwan ay kumaway sa kanya at lumapit Simpleng nagpakilala bilang kamag-aral Talastas niya na isang taon nauna sa kanya Naging mausisa tungkol sa mga **** Naisagot lang ay baka at siguro kahit balot ng kainitan ng puso Nang naghiwalay ay lalong nanabik Masigasig sa pag-aaral Nagrerepaso ng mga aralin sa bakasyon Isinabay din sa mga pagpupuri sa dikit ng gabi Sa kulay abo na panaginip ay lumaboy Maraming kumpul-kumpol ng mga orkidya at iba pang bulaklak Matao sa merkado subalit nakakabingi ang katahimikan Sa paglilibot, naging lila ang nasaging kagamitan Tumayo sa katre na pinaghihigaan Kahit wala pa sa ulirat parang nasa alapaap Umaangat kahit walang pakpak Nagbubunying pakiramdam sa taas
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Jan 9, 2019
Jan 9, 2019 at 2:48 AM UTC
Ang Buhay sa Takipsilim #45
Lila dogma Om yoga prana namaste :) English karma Hum
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Jun 22, 2012
Jun 22, 2012 at 10:59 PM UTC
haiku for language
Avisala! Halina sa TED ng CapSU-Dumarao o Encapsudia Kahawig nito ang Lireo sa Encantadia Elemento ay hangin, sagisag ay bughaw Lireo na kanlungan nina Danaya, Amihan, Pirena at Alena TED na kanlungan nina Dela Cruz, Arriola, Penson at Araneta Avisala! Halina sa Crim ng CapSU-Dumarao o Encapsudia Katulad nito ang Hathoria sa Encantadia Elemento ay apoy, sagisag ay pula Hathoria na naghari dahil sa lakas at dami Crim na naghari din kung pag-uusapan ay dami Avisala! Halina sa Agri ng CapSU-Dumarao o Encapsudia Kapareho nito ang Sapiro sa Encantadia Elemento ay lupa, sagisag ay dilaw Sapiro na sagana sa yaman ng lupa Agri na nakatutok sa pagpapayaman ng lupa Avisala! Halina sa Vet.Med ng CapSU-Dumarao o Encapsudia Kamukha nito ang Adamya sa Encantadia Elemento ay tubig, sagisag ay berde Adamya na kapiranggot na alaga ng brilyante ng tubig Vet.Med. na kakaunti na alagang hayop ang hilig Avisala! Halina sa Computer ng CapSU-Dumarao o Encapsudia Kawangis nito ang Etheria sa Encantadia Elemento ay kuryente, sagisag ay lila Etheria na nasa gitna at naglaho na Computer na nasa gitna rin at wala na. -05/19/2017 * a tribute to CapSU-Dumarao and Encantadia, written this day of final airing of Encantadia 2016
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Sep 28, 2019
Sep 28, 2019 at 10:04 PM UTC
Encapsudia: Ang Kambal ng Encantadia
~For Lila and the others~ there exists a subset of us, those who for whatever reason do not write, but “just” repost other’s work Above see the word Just emboldened for this selfless task is justice inherent For this act of bringing others to our over constrained attention is an action of justice, or more profoundly doing away with injustice  of our human limitations We could spend days entire pursuing the works of others, but life and the extraordinary demands of writing anew, when the spirit is upon us, are oft unable to spot, isolate, and highlight capture the best of the rest, and bless those who reorient our eyes away from our own bounded rivulets, to the tried and truly, away from habitual familial familiar good stuff, but bring us revelations of gems, caught within the mass maskings of missives that grows hourly, exponentially to out attention, to reorient our attention, to their filtered selections Let us say in unison then a blessing of gratitude to The Reposters: Blessed are You, Adonai our God, Ruler of the Universe, who has granted us life, sustained us, to give thanks to those who enable others, to reach us this season
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Jan 15, 2025
Jan 15, 2025 at 2:42 PM UTC
THE RE~POSTERs
Close your eyes The dark outside can't hurt you and I will never desert your bedside so close them tight The stars are so glad that they've found you and on the blankets that surround you they shine their light Rest your head and I will be watching from the doorway as you drift into a perfect, peaceful sleep and morning will come in all its simple glory and you will find the light and I will be there standing in your shadow knowing that you once were mine All mine My baby
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Mar 12, 2012
Mar 12, 2012 at 1:02 AM UTC
Lila
En los paisajes de Mansiche labra imperiales nostalgias el crepúsculo; y lábrase la raza en mi palabra, como estrella de sangre a flor de músculo. El campanario dobla... No hay quien abra la capilla... Diríase un opúsculo bíblico que muriera en la palabra de asiática emoción de este crepúsculo. Un poyo con tres patas, es retablo en que acaban de alzar labios en coro la eucaristía de una chicha de oro. Más allá de los ranchos surge al viento el humo oliendo a sueño y a establo, como si se exhumara un firmamento. La anciana pensativa, cual relieve de un bloque pre-incaico, hila que hila; en sus dedos de Mama el huso leve la lana gris de su vejez trasquila. Sus ojos de esclerótica de nieve un ciego sol sin luz guarda y mutila...! Su boca está en desdén, y en calma aleve su cansancio imperial tal vez vigila. Hay ficus que meditan, melenudos trovadores incaicos en derrota, la rancia pena de esta cruz idiota, en la hora en rubor que ya se escapa, y que es lago que suelda espejos rudos donde náufrago llora Manco-Cápac. Como viejos curacas van los bueyes camino de Trujillo, meditando... Y al hierro de la tarde, fingen reyes que por muertos dominios van llorando. En el muro de pie, pienso en las leyes que la dicha y la angustia van trocando: ya en las viudas pupilas de los bueyes se pudren sueños qué no tienen cuándo. La aldea, ante su paso, se reviste de un rudo gris, en que un mugir de vaca se aceita en sueño y emoción de huaca. Y en el festín del cielo azul yodado gime en el cáliz de la esquila triste un viejo corequenque desterrado. La Grama mustia, recogida, escueta ahoga no sé qué protesta ignota: parece el alma exhausta de un poeta, arredrada en un gesto de derrota. La Ramada ha tallado su silueta, cadavérica jaula, sola y rota, donde mi enfermo corazón se aquieta en un tedio estatual de terracota. Llega el canto sin sal del mar labrado en su máscara bufa de canalla que babea y da tumbos, ahorcado! La niebla hila una venda al cerro lila que en ensueños miliarios se enmuralla, como un huaco gigante que vigila.
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Nostalgias imperiales
En los paisajes de Mansiche labra imperiales nostalgias el crepúsculo; y lábrase la raza en mi palabra, como estrella de sangre a flor de músculo. El campanario dobla... No hay quien abra la capilla... Diríase un opúsculo bíblico que muriera en la palabra de asiática emoción de este crepúsculo. Un poyo con tres patas, es retablo en que acaban de alzar labios en coro la eucaristía de una chicha de oro. Más allá de los ranchos surge al viento el humo oliendo a sueño y a establo, como si se exhumara un firmamento. La anciana pensativa, cual relieve de un bloque pre-incaico, hila que hila; en sus dedos de Mama el huso leve la lana gris de su vejez trasquila. Sus ojos de esclerótica de nieve un ciego sol sin luz guarda y mutila...! Su boca está en desdén, y en calma aleve su cansancio imperial tal vez vigila. Hay ficus que meditan, melenudos trovadores incaicos en derrota, la rancia pena de esta cruz idiota, en la hora en rubor que ya se escapa, y que es lago que suelda espejos rudos donde náufrago llora Manco-Cápac. Como viejos curacas van los bueyes camino de Trujillo, meditando... Y al hierro de la tarde, fingen reyes que por muertos dominios van llorando. En el muro de pie, pienso en las leyes que la dicha y la angustia van trocando: ya en las viudas pupilas de los bueyes se pudren sueños qué no tienen cuándo. La aldea, ante su paso, se reviste de un rudo gris, en que un mugir de vaca se aceita en sueño y emoción de huaca. Y en el festín del cielo azul yodado gime en el cáliz de la esquila triste un viejo corequenque desterrado. La Grama mustia, recogida, escueta ahoga no sé qué protesta ignota: parece el alma exhausta de un poeta, arredrada en un gesto de derrota. La Ramada ha tallado su silueta, cadavérica jaula, sola y rota, donde mi enfermo corazón se aquieta en un tedio estatual de terracota. Llega el canto sin sal del mar labrado en su máscara bufa de canalla que babea y da tumbos, ahorcado! La niebla hila una venda al cerro lila que en ensueños miliarios se enmuralla, como un huaco gigante que vigila.
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The stars fallen on the still water plane of the lake dreaming the sky every minute, sizzle, like the effect of cooling, smile to themselves thinking about the amazing translocation, from the foaming rapids of milky way to placid dark waters deep down, from an illusion of light years to another, of transient reflection. lie still for a while taking stock of things: isn't the real on the same level of what we count imaginary? when-- all the fish from secret depths shoal after shoal after shoal curious about the newly arrived lightening bugs, that pulsate, try to get closer, propelling themselves through water like torpedoes sensing targets wanting to gobble up the whole galaxy,along with supernovae and black holes thinking. "for us these planktons are an easy game now right here, in our sanctuary,when we are starving" stars, like frenzied school kids after the last long bell swim helter-skelter, ride the unruly waves, try to make it to the shore but find dissolving altogether was what was written on the book. Anyway it's a"LILA" a cosmic game illusory all a grand opera in which *Shakti  and Shiva play transformation game. But the big fish ruling cosmic  space with appetite voracious, moves across galaxies, crossing light years in a flash, obliterating whatever is the matter
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Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 11:14 AM UTC
The Big Fish
Verás la maravilla de camino, camino de soñada Compostela -¡oh monte lila y flavo!-, peregrino, en un llano, entre chopos de candela. Otoño con dos ríos ha dorado el cerco del gigante centinela de piedra y luz, prodigio torreado que en el azul sin mancha se modela. Verás en la llanura una jauría de agudos galgos y un señor de caza, cabalgando a lejana serranía, vano fantasma de una vieja raza. Debes entrar cuando en la tarde fría brille un balcón de la desierta plaza.
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Soneto ii
Good night, bonne nuit Oyasamina sai, buenos noches, Lala salama, wan an, Spokoinyui noche, gute nacht, Lila tov Wherever you rest your Head tonight We are all one family Let’s hold tight and fill the world with Dreams of Harmony tonight. No matter what words we use to say… goodnight…
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Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 10:30 PM UTC
dreams of harmony
A terminally ill 5-year-old was given a dream day — an amazing birthday, prom and a wedding all in one. Lila May Schow has spent most of her life in the hospital or at the doctor’s office. She has a rare childhood cancer, neuroblastoma, and doctors have not been able to successfully treat the disease. Lila has stopped receiving chemotherapy treatments. Doctors told the family treatment is no longer an option because her body is not strong enough. Sadly, she is not expected to live past Thanksgiving. Lila’s parents, assuming it could be her last birthday, decided to make the day extra special. With the help of local businesses and volunteers, everyone gathered on July for the huge party. “We don’t know how much time we have left,” Lila’s dad Ryan Schow tells KATU, “and we have put up one hell of a fight. We just want to give her everything she deserves.” The family started a Facebook groupto ask for help. A local bank donated the use of their building, a DJ offered his services, women dressed as Disney characters volunteered to appear and bakers donated cakes. Over 1,000 people attended the huge bash. Lila, dressed as her favorite princess Cinderella, attended her birthday/prom/wedding. The sweetest moment of the day was when Lila’s dad proposed and married his daughter. “We wouldn’t have gotten this far and been able to fight this hard without all the help we’ve been given. We’re so very grateful for that. It’s all about making a little girl smile,” Lila’s dad, Ryan Schow, tells KATU. “It’s all about making a little girl smile.” read more:www.marieaustralia.com/long-formal-dresses www.marieaustralia.com/bridesmaid-dresses
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Aug 6, 2015
Aug 6, 2015 at 10:47 PM UTC
Terminally ill 5-year-old girl celebrates birthday, prom and wedding all on one day
A terminally ill 5-year-old was given a dream day — an amazing birthday, prom and a wedding all in one. Lila May Schow has spent most of her life in the hospital or at the doctor’s office. She has a rare childhood cancer, neuroblastoma, and doctors have not been able to successfully treat the disease. Lila has stopped receiving chemotherapy treatments. Doctors told the family treatment is no longer an option because her body is not strong enough. Sadly, she is not expected to live past Thanksgiving. Lila’s parents, assuming it could be her last birthday, decided to make the day extra special. With the help of local businesses and volunteers, everyone gathered on July for the huge party. “We don’t know how much time we have left,” Lila’s dad Ryan Schow tells KATU, “and we have put up one hell of a fight. We just want to give her everything she deserves.” The family started a Facebook groupto ask for help. A local bank donated the use of their building, a DJ offered his services, women dressed as Disney characters volunteered to appear and bakers donated cakes. Over 1,000 people attended the huge bash. Lila, dressed as her favorite princess Cinderella, attended her birthday/prom/wedding. The sweetest moment of the day was when Lila’s dad proposed and married his daughter. “We wouldn’t have gotten this far and been able to fight this hard without all the help we’ve been given. We’re so very grateful for that. It’s all about making a little girl smile,” Lila’s dad, Ryan Schow, tells KATU. “It’s all about making a little girl smile.” read more:www.marieaustralia.com/long-formal-dresses www.marieaustralia.com/bridesmaid-dresses
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oh lila you are but a child innocent in your play building castles of sand and breaking them down running in the grass and staining your jeans so much chaos you create so much destruction you manifest oh lila no one understands you your simplicity is frustrating everyone remains hallucinated everyone remains vexed your divine play is but an eastern thought however is something we all misconceive when our layers are stripped peeled off from our infinite selves we will realize who and what you really are oh lila you run our world
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Oct 26, 2011
Oct 26, 2011 at 5:54 AM UTC
lila
Now listen to the tale of Lila LaRue A tale that taught us to think before you do. A plump gal she was, weighed three hundred and three She had a strange love for berries, you see? She hopped down Yale Trail, And sat on stump Plop! Right next to Edward the grump. Edward was old, his memory fading and didn’t appreciate Lila’s space invading. “Lila,” he grumbled “what do you need?” “I’m looking for the old Yale Berry Tree!” He sighed and humphed and grumped and thought, “Kids these days.” The adventures they sought! He pointed to the left, and said ”follow the trail.” How Lila couldn’t wait to fill her pail! Lila ****** to her side, And broke into a run; She had to get berries ‘Fore the day was done. But then Edward shouted something she couldn’t make out so she lifted her head to see what it was about. But she tripped on a root And fell into a tree “Its old Yale!” Lila thought with great glee. She plucked off a berry, with a strange looking skin But what was stranger Was what lied within. The juice is too **** she thought much too late. Then the grump found her, in her lifeless state. “Such a fool, that Lila LaRue. never read the sign, like I told her to do.” “Poisonous Berries, please do not eat.” The sign read, freshly painted and neat. Always listen to Edward for he is old and wise. “Never let a careless  mistake become your demise.”
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Jul 5, 2013
Jul 5, 2013 at 3:30 AM UTC
the tale of lila larue
Ni sé para quién es esta amargura! Oh, Sol, llévala tú que estás muriendo, y cuelga, como un Cristo ensangrentado, mi bohemio dolor sobre su pecho. El valle es de oro amargo; y el viaje es triste, es largo. Oyes? Regaña una guitarra. Calla! Es tu raza, la pobre viejecita que al saber que eres huésped y que te odian, se hinca la faz con una roncha lila. El valle es de oro amargo, y el trago es largo... largo... Azulea el camino, ladra el río... Baja esa frente sudorosa y fría, fiera y deforme. Cae el pomo roto de una espada humanicida! Y en el mómico valle de oro santo, la brasa de sudor se apaga en llanto! Queda un olor de tiempo abonado de versos, para brotes de mármoles consagrados que hereden la aurífera canción de la alondra que se pudre en mi corazón!
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Oración del camino
'Lika May was blue And was her house And was her nails But sometimes they were pink sometimes And 'Lila May was beautiful And blue 'Lila May was blue And at night on the full blue moon she would paint The walls With blue Oceans and seas and river and streams of blue And wash it away with water Before the sun could chase the moon away And ruin the blue And 'Lila May was blue Was blue
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Sep 16, 2013
Sep 16, 2013 at 6:09 PM UTC
'Lila May was blue
In auburn the sun fell. In crimson she rose again. As a gift of entrancing love. My flowers overt, with inverted bells. An infusion of Lila , green and white. The spring sprung forth from earth so deep. Leaving winter doth but weep. A scene from seasons. Of row boats and true love. Of coffee with cream. Photographs on front covers of many magazines. Periodicals they speak. Peace descends amidst those flowers. Many more hours. Sun hats and short sleeves. Mystically weaving. Gossamer strings, Such pretty things. (c)LIVVI
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Mar 25, 2017
Mar 25, 2017 at 9:59 AM UTC
IN AUBURN
Por las calles, ¿quién aquél? ¡El tonto de Rafael!   Tonto llovido del cielo, del limbo, sin un ochavo. Mal pollito colipavo, sin plumas, digo, sin pelo. ¡Pío-pic!, pica, y al vuelo todos le pican a él.   ¿Quién aquél? ¡El tonto de Rafael!   Tan campante, sin carrera, no imperial, sí tomatero, grillo tomatero, pero sin tomate en la grillera. Canario de la fresquera, no de alcoba o mirabel.   ¿Quién aquél? ¡El tonto de Rafael!   Tontaina tonto del higo, rodando por las esquinas bolas, bolindres, pamplinas y pimientos que no digo. Mas nunca falta un amigo que le mendigue un clavel.   ¿Quién aquél? ¡El tonto de Rafael!   Patos con gafas, en fila, lo raptarán tontamente en la berlina inconsciente de San Jinojito el lila. ¿Qué runrún, qué retahíla sube el cretino eco fiel?   ¡Oh, oh, pero si es aquél el tonto de Rafael!
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El tonto de rafael
Malambot ang kalimbahin, talulot ng bulaklak na rosas, tamang-tama sa pagpapagaan ng masakit na pakiramdam ng puro pasâ at bugbog-saradong lila ng sugatang puso ng isang bansa - sinugatan ng mga taon ng panggagahasa ng mga pulitiko, at panghahalay sa ekonomiya at lipunan. Nagpapagaling ang kalimbahin. Tamang timpla ang kalimbahin ng matingkad na pulang dugo, inialay ng mga bayani, nag-aalab sa banal na pag-ibig, pagnanasang lumaban para sa kalayaang tila napakailap sa lahing puno ng kasawian at ng dalisay na puting diwa ng mga duminig sa tawag ng sambayanan di alintana ang sarili, busilak tulad ng papel na walang sulat, na sa ibabaw n’ya ay mahihiyang maglapat ang isang makata ng mga talatang sambay-bakod kumbaga. Masaklaw ang kalimbahin. Maliwanag ang kalimbahin litaw na litaw sa tila itim ng gabing pinakamadilim sa ating sinalantang kapuluan, at sa malabo, lalong kumukupas na pangungunyapit ng bughaw-lilang kalangitan subalit may sumisilip na’t nagpapalakas-loob na sinag ng dilaw na araw muli, nababanaag ang bagong Pag-asa ay binabasag ang nakabalot na karimlan, nagbabadya, ibinabaybay ang ating kaligtasan bilang isang bayan – At kalimbahin ang kulay ng bukang-liwayway.
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Oct 27, 2021
Oct 27, 2021 at 7:58 AM UTC
Kalimbahin
sa maingay na mundo sumulat sa makalat na kwarto sumulat sa mga nakakalason na yugto sumulat at 'wag tayong tumigil hangga't ang utak natin ay unti-unting nagiging mapayapa lumilipad hinahangin ng bawat salita tugma kinukulayan ang bawat pahina ng kahit anong kulay na gusto mo pula lila kahit pagsamahin mo pa sila ikaw ang bahala basta't sumulat ka
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Jan 27, 2020
Jan 27, 2020 at 9:01 AM UTC
sumulat
You, with your tender blue eyes and gentle little soul, are the warmth, and sunshine in a cold and dark world. You bring my life comfort with your calm purr, and your soft fur. I love your every little claw, on your every little paw. And i envy your tiny innocent heart full of endless, unconditional love. You are the most pretty, and the finest little kitty. Thank you for being my best friend.
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Apr 25, 2019
Apr 25, 2019 at 6:09 PM UTC
For Lila (My Little Angel)
i forget deep at night no one no thing deep bliss i wake in lila who am i? what am i? i lose everything they are me why??? are they afraid? so violent? i am ready to give this false life for the knowledge of the ONE SO FEW know please don't crucify me if you do it matters not the way of the manifestation who are YOU? who am I??? or i  ???
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Feb 4, 2016
Feb 4, 2016 at 4:27 PM UTC
who am i?
crying screaming aching. tigers wasting space and causing problems. everyone hates them. nothing lila does is good enough for you and you wonder why she's always so miserable. what about Margaret? she cries herself to sleep each night hating herself more and more, wishing she was a bird that could fly away and find somewhere safe. Caroline screams at walls and hopes she was someone nicer, prettier, better. Better. ******* Tigers growling in your head, telling you you're all wrong. Conor's not here to help you this time. You're being ridiculous. paint on a smile and pretend you're okay it's what they want to see. they don't hear you speak they don't care. Runaway.
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Jan 23, 2015
Jan 23, 2015 at 10:39 PM UTC
Runaway