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Teesha 4h
While you are grieving your life,
Someone grieved their loved one, gone too soon.
While you are crying over your mere existence,
Someone is fighting death, waiting for a boon.

While you lament the things you did and the mistakes you made,
Someone is wishing to have the opportunities of messing up the way you do.
While you mourn what life could have been,
Someone is longing for more time to be true.

While you crib about the friendships and relationships lost,
Someone is waiting to hold their loved one in a hospital hall;
Against the cold and trembling wall,
They whisper silent prayers, giving their all.

As you sob over another day not lived well, questing your mere existence,
Know that someone, somewhere, wants to trade places with you this instance.
I was reading an article by someone who lost their loved one in the tragic flooding of Camp Mystic, and it shook me. It made me ponder the fragility of life — how easily it slips away — and how we take it so for granted, simply because we carry the privilege of still living it.
When Intuition goes to battle with Reason,
these are usually quick skirmishes—
but this one has broken into war.
The campaign unfolds on the soil of abstraction,
reality, spirituality, and poetry.

Intuition begins with overwhelming superiority—
three of the four fields are hers.
But Reason is insatiable:
guarding the kingdom,
minimizing the losses,
holding the troops’ morale.

Its advisor is Faith—
the Eternal Outsider.
Usually Faith stands by Intuition,
but now he has slipped quietly
to the opposite box,
losing his own faith… one could say.

Intuition without Faith is dangerous.
Her box is always draped in dark lace curtains;
only her voice comes through—
no one has ever seen her face,
except Faith,
who would never stoop so low as to speak of it.

Some claim she is not even human,
others say faceless,
and in the inner circles it is whispered
she wears Janus’ face—
(probably only for Faith,
a mocking trick against hypocrisy).

Yet for the audience outside,
listening from afar,
plain common sense whispers only one thing:
she is a shapeshifter.
Heresy.
Maybe that’s why they are so quiet.

Why is Intuition so dangerous
without her two-faced advisor?
One might suppose the real danger
is the opposite:
that religious fervor seeps into her field
and sprouts the weeds of fanaticism.

For Faith hides not only
fat volumes of sermon under his cassock,
but the stone tablets of morality.
He has, they say,
even used them in close combat.
Effective: the laws of physics themselves
lend the swing its momentum;
at the moment of impact
it already speaks the language of Force.

A cudgel in Faith’s hand,
a drumhead tribunal—
the kind that applies laws literally.

When he sits beside Intuition,
his chair glows in full illumination,
stage-lights blazing,
the glare descending like a halo.
From that light,
behind Intuition’s baroque curtains,
she too takes on form—
not just a whisper,
but an active member of the council.

Without him,
Intuition grows overconfident.
If no one sees her,
perhaps she isn’t even there.
Her influence falters.
In her own words:
she has free rein.

In such moments,
Intuition dons the mask of the prophet—
a mask that grants
a dangerous confidence.
“The prophet does not err—
he is only insufficiently zealous.”

And at the final word, help arrives.
It is Obsession.
She lays her hand lightly
on Intuition’s shoulder
and says nothing but:

“You are right.”
Tempered glasses
Surround my vision.
Eyes denounce the truth.
You aren’t around.
You don’t exist here.
But your shadow
Permeates all my senses.
The institution of my mind
The crazy animal farm
That cages my steeds.
My royal legion of needs
Riding to the east
Sunrises and Seas

I can’t shake loose.
The rambling jargon of my youth

I know I am not worth much on the stage.
I don’t look good, got no rhythm.
But I ain’t afraid
When the bottles of judgement
Slice the air in my direction near
I salute them with a guzzle of the beer.
Until all my feelings become sheer
See through them and I learn.
Standing tall isn’t as firm.
As all the promises that make me yearn
To see you in the flesh
But the best is yet to come.

Just a ****** for the high
That keeps me in the bedroom.
All night
I usually flee.
The eject valve always close by
Ready to launch.
Me into space
Alone
Solitude sometimes is.
The only necessity that exists.

Can you understand?
If I surround myself with only memory
And regret
And not let you in
Because you are my Achilles heel
My denouement, after the spill
Of all my blood into the sink
Brushing my teeth
Too quick to think.
I quip, prickly and sick.

I choked on life.
And threw out the bit.
I can’t be tamed.
A horse girl by name
I ain’t a leaf, falling to the wind.
I am the howl through the chimes.
The moment of rhyme
When it all falls into line

Battle my spine up to my brain.
I can show you where your heart is.

Beating in my chest of drawers
Roque style
For good ole America’s sake
You can peek.
Inside
Your own hearts desire
And see for yourself.
Who is there, in the eye,
Of your storm
I am in the valley of shadow.
I am in the sea of tranquility.

Your heart carries all seasons.
Shades
Phases
It is the moon.
Radiance in permanence
A companion
For my earthly desire
My heavenly want

I am a spiritual oasis.
And you are the tide builder.
Rippling in from the cast stone
Blame tossed.
Former lover
Disbarred from passing judgement.
Cruel and unusual punishment

I am sure that I can break you free.
Of chains you created
Once you are able

Rather than like Cain
Giving into the rain

I shatter the staff
that emotional crutch of other drugs
upon the bridges you burned.
We burned.
To watch the wood splinter
Embers floating into the sky.
Flickering out
As a lightning bug passes by

I got your current.
In my hair
I got the shake down shimmy.
I can jimmy loose that locked up blood pump.
You ***** little punk
I got your sedation.
Stirred into my milkshake
**** it up, its extra thick.
Spill some on the table,
I’ll make you lick.

You ain’t gotta shimmer.
But surely you shine.
If only you saw the colours
Sparkling through the vines
growing around your chest
where once a heart laid to rest

I know they killed it dead.
But I got a certificate.
In CPR
I can resuscitate.
Make it beat.
Make the heat.

sink or swim.
trial by fire
flight, fight, run, or hide.
seek destroy.
isolate
terminate
whatever man
as long as it’s not the status quo.
the queue for owing you.
something that I can’t afford.

A moment in time
lost to a name.
a place
a stage fit for another queen.
who had set her sun.
Breaking Orbit and running
down to the moment
of separation
my trial by error
one chance
This very last breath
from my lips to yours
back to my head
inside
surrounded by dread.
but alive
instead of what else is there?
beyond the great veil
lift it.
Kiss back
fool hardy laughs.
By Marcela Guajardo- One Andean Sky  07.09.24

Tyres tread loudly on the tar grey road
Splashing water on the footpath
Heavy rain washes colour, grass pallid and a ghostly hue
Shivering, a pedestrian hurries past
Scurrying for shelter from the deluge
Only the ‘Die Hards’ are out
The ‘Big Bus Sydney’ open to the sky level is empty
Not even the tourists are game
No birds chirping. Taking refuge, somewhere warm. Clever!
Our Retired Doctors Desai, decide to wait for the weather to
clear.
Their daily walk postponed.
The food deliverers on bikes, hunched and pedalling against
the wind
Car honks as tempers flare. White knuckle drivers.
It is chaos out there as I sit warm and safe at the helm inside
at my desk
Ready to offer an umbrella or call a taxi
My time working as a concierge in Prestige Apartments in Sydney Australia. It is written during a wet cold day. Beautiful memories created during my time there.
Sam S 5d
It flutters… then jerks
drifting left…
then right…
a restless heartbeat
caught between two giants.

Only the flag moves…
Searching for stillness
A bouquet from a man of few poetic words,
Left me at a loss, struggling for words,
Amidst the sunflowers, bright and bold,
I found a key to his home, a chapter to unfold.

It was a symbol of trust, a door opened wide,
An invitation to enter, with nothing to hide,
No poem or love letter could ever convey
The depth of his feelings in such a meaningful way.
Those cursed with the soul of a nomad,  
Thrive on the adventure of each new road.  
Fearful of settling at a final destination,  
They steer clear of any stagnation.  
Avoidants are the type they tend to seek,
Hoping this path leads to the ultimate peak.
lisagrace Aug 2
Twelve to fourteen
       A good girl she must be,                 🦋
               but with the exception
                     of fake notes
                          to skip P.E
                              Her nose buried in books,
                                sitting in the nook
                                of her mind,
🦋                       still dazzled by magic,
                         adventure
                     and love
                A soirée
           with the feykind.....🦋
The next part of my Retrospective poem series...
🦋🧚‍♀️
Karijinbba Feb 2024
Repost
*
Its all about greed malice jealousy
for the Oil Gas found in Gaza all belonging to Palestinians
The culprit are stealing it all
Only Iran cares for indigenous Muslim  peopñe
Palestinian fathers, sons aren't terrorist the culprit attacking them is since 1947
HAMAS TOO is defending their land their very existence.
Hamas is an idea a hero with sticks and stones fighting back against bulldozers tankers bombs brutal baby bloodshed
Shame on you Israel
Our snake in our paradise

Stiff genocidal Joe Biden has got to go can't call Israel off.
Israelites jews baby genocidal murderers  criminals run Congress I hear.

We all see you read you well it has not Iraeli soldiers wearing diapers

They know Palestinian fighters will not **** women much less **** them.

I never thought I would see the day when the whole world would shout its heartfelt agonies begging governments leaders save Palestinians.

It's so moving in the face of the horror Israel is committing.

Israelites took my grandkids and mangled my daughters mentally physically psychologically in USA and myself in Mexico as a small child.

Free palestine give them back their land

My my heart my soul for you Palestinians my voice my word my homeland love you,I
Palestinians the true chosen ones of God
  
My heart my soul God Bless Egypt
Arab countries unite against tyrant apartheid **** regime.
Stop the genocide the slaughter
of innocents by Israel dictatorship.

All of us the people for the people
all if us  are Gods chosen
children of the most high.
Palestinian lives matter.
All lives matter

Prosecute the narcissist
sadist Israelite apartheid
bombing children.
So help us God

Boycott Boycott Boycott
If we fail to unite
against this evil jews
hiding in plain sight
wearing their kkk
black hats next will be
all of us in our homeland
turned to concentration camps.
Fight this evil war crimes against
Palestinians.
Israel horned Satanyahu
prime sinister of Hell on Earth
stop bombing children
in Gaza sease fire!
100 000 you have bombed
Turn your guns to your head
drop bombs to your family ET-
associates and homes!
Bomb your sinful synagogue too.

Sacrificing kidnapping
christian children
babies under synagogues!
In New York City USA.

Shame on USA England
all for allowing USA gov to
dictate war after war
trillions in dollars wasted

arming sadistic Israeli battalions
to the teeth
Murdering genocidal blood thirsty
ancient narcissists

By: Karijinbba
To honor a famed painting
Mr and Mrs Andrews.
https://youtube.com/shorts/_N8rmNMTOQI?si=2FbWMHpLWTyyEkhi
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