18890
If I was to choose I would fall for you again. Coz you complete me In a way I can't describe.. For more poems join our channel
This body is not me.
I am not limited by this body.
I am life without boundaries.
I have never been born,
and I have never died.
Look at the ocean and the sky filled with stars,
manifestations from my wondrous true mind.
Since before time, I have been free.
Birth and death are only doors through which we pass,
sacred thresholds on our journey.
Birth and death are a game of hide- and seek.
So laugh with me,
hold my hand,
let us say good-bye,
say good-bye, to meet again soon.
We meet today.
We will meet again tomorrow.
We will meet at the source every moment.
We meet each other in all forms of life.
@โจallโฉ
Thich Nhat Hanh ~
SEASONAL LUCK
My first time as an all night lover
For I wasn't used to
But not the first to get rolled over
I did a thing or two.
And realised that I'm a clover in undercover
She came early
As I sprayed the cobwebs in my room,
In no hurry,
With thick smoke like I was spraying doom
While taking tally,
On all corners, for I had light from her my moon.
After the normal lies
Like I didn't reply cause I was sick,
Chores had me tied,
I slept early for my flu was thick,
And Grandma died,
I got on top of her for I had a list to tick.
It was clap on clap
The sound of two different skins
Then a running tap
Running like its contents were sin
And fast taps
On my back, as gently rubbing my chin.
Hour in hour out
Wrestling a nymphomaniac demon
That was all about
Coiling around me like a mad python
And with no shout
I held on its neck like I was squeezing lemon.
To win, I did
And I say "win" since a few men know
That if you feed
As in a kind of appetite noticeably low
With no greed
Disguised as exploration, then your game is low.
My few times as an all day lover
For I'm not used to
Or my few times as a few hours lover
As I'm rarely used to
I always nail acting like a clover.
Taciturn
Hello everyone we the family of Mrs Evelyn Oloo are sadly informing you of the passing of our beloved mum on the 16th Feb 2026 at Dolphil Memorial and Maternity Hospital after a short illness, She will be laid to rest on 7th march 2026 at kotoo village, Gem subcounty, Siaya county.
Funeral arrangements are ongoing daily meetings at her home back in the village and Narok town at Narok PTC residence.
All your contributions and prayers are highly appreciated.
Your support will be channelled towards the clearance of hospital bill and funeral arrangements totalling 390,000/=
All the contributions will be channelled to the treasurer phone number (0710116627)
May the almighty God bless each and everyone of you.
His lawyer argued for life imprisonment, highlighting no prior record and potential for reform through counseling. But Justice Magare, in a scathing judgment, detailed the premeditation, breach of trust, disproportionate violence, and moral depravity. He rejected any mitigation, noting that defilement alone carried life, but the murder elevated it to death under Section 204. Quoting the constitution and prisons act, he sentenced Macharia to death by hanging, with a 30-day stay of execution and 14 days to appeal. Breaking his pen in two... a symbolic act... the judge closed the file, declaring the devil "innocent" and Macharia's actions beyond redemption.
๐๐ก๐ ๐๐๐ญ๐๐ซ๐ฆ๐๐ญ๐ก
๐บ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐ฐ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐
๐ถ๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐ฑ๐๐๐๐๐๐
In the aftermath, Nyeri and Kenya at large exhaled in grim satisfaction, though no sentence could restore Tamara's life. Macharia was transferred to a maximum-security prison to await his fate, with appeals likely to drag on given Kenya's de facto moratorium on executions since 1987... meaning he might spend decades on death row. Susan and her family began the long road to healing, supported by community funds and NGOs, but the scar remained. The case spotlighted rising femicide and child violence, prompting calls for stricter laws and better surveillance in slums. Governor Kahiga praised the sentence as "commendable," while public outrage fueled demands for swift justice in similar cases, like that of baby Shantel.
๐๐๐ฏ๐ข๐ฌ๐จ๐ซ๐ฒ ๐ญ๐จ ๐ญ๐ก๐ ๐๐ฎ๐๐ฅ๐ข๐
๐ณ๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐
๐พ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐ท๐๐๐๐๐๐
To parents and members of the public: This tragedy underscores the peril of blind trust, even in familiar faces... always teach children about stranger danger, but also about boundaries with known adults. Monitor their movements closely, especially in crowded places like markets. Install and review CCTV where possible, and report suspicions immediately. Communities must unite against silence; vigilance saves lives. If you see something off, speak up... Tamara's story reminds us that evil often hides in plain sight.
A True Crime Narration of Tamara Blessing Kabura's Case
๐ญ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐, ๐๐๐๐
๐๐ก๐ ๐๐ง๐ง๐จ๐๐๐ง๐ญ ๐๐๐ ๐ข๐ง๐ง๐ข๐ง๐ ๐ฌ
๐ป๐๐๐๐๐'๐ ๐ฌ๐๐๐๐ ๐ณ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐
๐๐๐ ๐ฉ๐๐๐๐
๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐ป๐๐๐๐
In the bustling open-air market of Nyeri town, Kenya, where vendors hawked fresh produce and colorful fabrics under the equatorial sun, a little girl named Tamara Blessing Kabura grew up surrounded by the rhythms of everyday life. Born around 2018 to Susan Wanjiru, a hardworking single mother who ran a modest stall selling vegetables and household goods, Tamara was the light of her family's world. From her earliest days, she was a curious, vibrant child... described by neighbors as playful and trusting, with a bright smile that could melt even the sternest hearts. She attended Grade One at Judah Academy, where she was learning her ABCs and making friends, her small backpack slung over her shoulders as she skipped to school each morning. Susan, often juggling long hours at the market to provide for her daughter and elderly mother, relied on the close-knit community to watch over Tamara. It was a place where everyone knew each other, and trust was currency. Among the familiar faces was Nicholas Julius Macharia, a 35-year-old market porter known for hauling heavy loads for traders like Susan. Macharia, who lived alone in a cramped one-room shack in the nearby Witemere slums, had ingratiated himself into the family's circle over time. He was no stranger; he often helped Susan with her stall, carrying crates of tomatoes or bags of maize, and even ran small errands for her mother. To young Tamara, he was "Uncle Julius"โa trusted adult who sometimes bought her sweets or played brief games with the market children. But beneath this facade lurked a predator, a man with a depraved disposition that would soon shatter lives forever.
๐๐ก๐ ๐
๐๐ญ๐๐๐ฎ๐ฅ ๐๐๐ฒ
๐ป๐๐ ๐ณ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐
๐๐๐ ๐ฏ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐ช๐๐๐๐
The fateful day began like any other Saturday on May 24, 2025. Tamara, just seven years old, had accompanied her mother to the market as she often did during weekends. The air was filled with the chatter of bargaining shoppers and the scent of street food. Around midday, Susan sent Tamara on a quick errand to a nearby salon for a simple hair trim... a routine task in their busy routine. Tamara skipped off, her small frame weaving through the crowds, unaware that Macharia had been watching. Seizing the moment, he approached her with a familiar smile, perhaps luring her with the promise of candy or a game, exploiting the trust he had built over months. Innocent and unsuspecting, Tamara followed him away from the safety of the market, down the dusty paths leading to his isolated home in Witemere slums. What happened next was a descent into unimaginable horror. Inside the dimly lit shack, Macharia's mask fell away. He violently defiled the child, rupturing her delicate body with a 2.5 to 3 cm tear that caused severe hemorrhaging. Copious amounts of semen were later found, evidence of the prolonged assault. Tamara, in excruciating pain, screamed and struggled, but her cries went unheard in the isolated slum. Undeterred by her suffering, Macharia continued the attack without mercy. As she bled and weakened, he smothered her, wrapping his hands around her tiny neck until she asphyxiated, her last moments filled with terror and agony beyond comprehension. In his chilling confession later, Macharia described the act with unsettling detachment, as if recounting a mundane event, revealing a profound lack of empathy and narcissistic cruelty. To cover his tracks, he dug a shallow grave right there in the dirt floor of his one-room house, beneath his bed, and buried her small body without a coffin or any semblance of dignity. He then returned to his daily life, sleeping in the same room that had become a tomb, as if nothing had happened.
๐๐ก๐ ๐๐๐ฌ๐ฉ๐๐ซ๐๐ญ๐ ๐๐๐๐ซ๐๐ก
๐ช๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐ฌ๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐
๐ฎ๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐ท๐๐๐๐
Can I seek shelter in you,
When the world feels too loud?
When I can't cease my thoughts?
When all I'm doing,
Is trying to survive my days?
Can I come running to you,
With hope,
That maybe,
You will be the home,
I kept searching for so long,
That maybe,
You are the flower,
That can aromate every corner,
Of my soul,
Can I come to you?
When my breath struggles,
To pave its way,
Through my lungs,
When my heart feels heavy,
When my ribs constrict,
And my organs are dissolving,
In the voids of restlessness,
Can I drag my body,
On the door of your entity?
When my own existence,
Is a shackle of trauma,
When I can't free myself,
From the recalcitrant reflections,
When my own blood,
Stains my presence,
In the celestial world,
Can I come to you,
With the pseudo hope,
That you hold on to me,
That my blood,
Won't discolour your actuality,
That I won't be a disgrace for you,
Can I seek an asylum in you?
~Zikra
*The Beginning of Ending (Dead Weight)*
I woke with stones inside my chest,
Old voices stitched beneath my skin,
Carrying ghosts like unpaid debtsโ
Dead weight dressed as love and kin.
I called it loyalty.
I named it fate.
But chains do not become lighter
Because we decorate them.
I remembered Kino
Standing before the dark, breathing sea,
His hands trembling with the future,
His eyes learning what glitter costs.
โI have thrown the pearl,โ he saidโ
And the ocean swallowed his hunger.
So I stood at my own shoreline,
Clutching my shining burdenโ
A promise that poisoned,
A smile with hidden teeth,
A circle of voices that fed on my doubt.
I have thrown the pearl into the night
Just like Kino.
I have thrown toxic people
Into the deep waters of silence.
I have thrown fear
Back to the wind that birthed it.
I have thrown guilt
Into the fire that forged it.
Let the sea keep what burns the hand.
Let the tide carry what bends the spine.
Dead weight does not argueโ
It drags.
It whispers, โStay.โ
It convinces you that drowning
Is another word for loyalty.
But I am learning
That survival is not cruelty.
That boundaries are not betrayal.
That ending
Is the first breath of beginning.
The ocean did not beg Kino to return.
It only roared,
And kept its silence.
Tonight, I stand lighter.
Not emptyโ
But unburdened.
The beginning of ending
Is not loss.
It is the sound of something heavy
Finally
Letting go.
๐๐ฟ๐๐ฟ๐๐ฟ
I would rather
be a beautiful sentence
you never meet
than a man
who cannot live up
to his own poetry.
๐ Happy Birthday Doctor Virginia ๐โค๏ธ
Happy birthday my beautiful girl ๐๐ฅฐ
Happy birthday Daktari wangu ๐ฉโโ๏ธ๐ โ heri ya siku yako ya kuzaliwa mrembo ๐น
Today is not just any day โจ
It is the day a wonderful soul was born ๐ซ
A special day for someone very special in my heart โค๏ธ
I take this opportunity ๐
To wish you a happy birthday ๐
Because this is your special day โจ
An amazing day โ siku ya kipekee sana kwangu ๐
I thank God for how far He has brought you ๐ โ namshukuru Mungu kwa hatua uliyofika ๐
He has truly been faithful in your life โ๏ธ
For He knew you before you were born ๐ค
And placed you in your motherโs womb ๐ถ
You are such a blessing to your family โค๏ธ
And a precious blessing in my life too ๐
Happy birthday Bess Virgy ๐๐น
May God be with you always ๐ โ Mungu awe nawe siku zote ๐ค
May He bless your beautiful heart always โจ
May your life be filled with love, joy and peace ๐
Ubarikiwe sana mrembo ๐ธ
Enjoy to the fullest ๐ฅณ โ furahia kabisa mpenzi โค๏ธ
Party to the fullest ๐๐ โ sherekea vilivyo ๐บ
For this is your day ๐
The day that the Lord has made โ๏ธ โ hii ndiyo siku aliyoifanya Bwana ๐
May luck be on your side always ๐
May success follow you everywhere you go ๐
May God's guidance and protection always cover you ๐๐ก๏ธ
Happy birthday my dear ๐ค โ rafiki yangu wa thamani sana ๐
May you live to blow a thousand candles ๐ฏ๏ธ๐ โ uishi miaka mingi yenye furaha โค๏ธ
May everything your heart desires be fulfilled ๐ โ yote unayotamani yatimie โจ
You deserve all the happiness in this world ๐๐
Your smile brings light into my life โ๏ธ
And your presence makes my world more beautiful โค๏ธ
Happy birthday Bess Virgy ๐๐น
Happy birthday my love ๐
This message is a small dedication from my heart to yours ๐
Cheers to more life together ๐ฅ โ maisha marefu na baraka tele ๐
With love and best wishes from Brian ๐โค๏ธ
Is that all
that lives inside your head?
One face
repeating like a stubborn sound
you pretend not to notice.
Do you not see anything else
in this wide world
overflowing with stories,
with strangers carrying galaxies
quietly within them?
I just think about you
whenever I canโt write anything.
Itโs not that I feel nothing
itโs just that words get lost
and canโt find their way to my pen.
So I start writing about you.
My words seem to have
a special liking for you.
They never stop coming
when theyโre meant for you.
All I do
is get lost in thoughts of you,
and suddenly
the pen moves effortlessly.
Words crawl onto paper
in your name
like children running
toward home
after waiting too long
to be held.
I donโt think Iโm a writer,
not really.
Iโm just someone
who met the right muse.
And if anyone believes I am,
itโs only because of you.
Youโre the one
who held this hand
every time it forgot how to move.
๐ณ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐โ๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐
๐๐๐๐๐ ๐
๐๐๐
๐บ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐โ๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐
๐๐๐ ๐๐
๐ฐ๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐
๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐
๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐
๐๐๐๐๐๐๐
๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐
๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐
๐ฐ๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐โ๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐
๐๐๐๐
๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐
๐ป๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐, ๐
๐๐๐, ๐๐๐
๐๐๐๐๐๐๐
*ECHOES IN THE SILENCE*
When the since is loud, the spirit is low!
For the mind slumbers : thoughts are joggled..
The heart bleeds_but the veins got no flow in them...
The CPU has failed, for every nerve is paralyzed!
I got cravings: yet I'm not paged!
I long for love _ yet I'm to weak to persue it...
It's feather like: I can't comprehend its speed_
An elephant I'm, weighing tonnes leaving me grounded...
I'm hopeless: a glimmer of hope isn't expected!
Though I'm not a bat _ my vision is blur...
I hope for my heart to race, yet its piston is worn out _
Its pulse is faint _the heavens awaits my arrival!
They say, "love isn't for the weak."
I bet the ox in me fled: for the existence of love terrified it!
I've lost my sanity, while the beautiful serenity withered...
I'm a failure in love _yet a master in making others bloom!
*ยฉMyles The Masterpiece ๐๏ธ๐๏ธ*
*ยฎMylistic verses ๐๏ธ*
The only time this piece of paper shines
is when I write about you.
Otherwise itโs just another page
quiet, unnoticed,
like the things I never say out loud.
But how would you ever know that,
this paper has never left my diary,
it keeps my feelings folded inside it,
the way I keep them from you.
โMarriage is hard.
Divorce is hard.
Choose your hard.
Obesity is hard.
Being fit is hard.
Choose your hard.
Being in debt is hard.
Being financially disciplined is hard.
Choose your hard.
Starting a business is hard.
Working a 9 to 5 job is hard.
Choose your hard.
Life will never be easy,
but you can choose your hard.
Choose wisely!"
*vibrations.*
There's something about chummy. The warmth, the allure of it all. It gets you high and teary eyed. The sun's reflected off high strung broken glasses on the wall. And their light glares in your eyes making them sting. You close your eyes. It's alright. Everything's here. A bear like hug. It's okay, it's okay, the echoes whisper as if whimpering with you. Head on a bosom by the side. Arms rubbing your back. It's okay, it's okay, the chummy whispers to you. And you want to scream. Vent it all out. Your nose starts to tickle and you know what's coming. The silent tears you didn't shed. A murmur of sweet comforting nothings. It comes and goes. Like a receding tide of the ocean. The tide falls. Breathe out. It's okay, it's okay. Till next time, will chummy still be there?
/channel/cul_14_pry
ยฉ๐
ป๐
พ๐
ฝ๐
ด โข๐คฌ
You know what,
You are my comfort zone,
But why this time,
I can't find comfort in you?
Why being in it this time,
Feels as if living,
This place isn't mine anymore.
It's as if my own house,
Has turned into a place that's strange to me.
I want to come back to it,
But I can't,
Same as my own house.
You were the only place,
I called home,
And now this home,
Smells like an old attic,
Covered in dusts,
Holding particles of old memories,
I want to clear those dust sheets,
But I can't,
I don't know why,
But I can't,
I'm in love with the memories,
That exists in the corners,
Of that home,
But I can't return to it,
Even though I know,
This is the only place left for me,
I feel as if,
My own house abandoned me,
After insulting me,
And now returning back,
To it's doorstep,
My steps are shaking,
Confused,
Should I return to it?
Is there still love for me left in this house?
Or it faded away the moment,
They kicked off me?
Or are they just calling me back,
Out of guilt,
Not as an act of love?
I'm terrified,
Trembled,
Of being chosen,
And left every time.
Who will answer my doubts?
~Zikra
Has anyone ever told her
how dangerously beautiful
her eyes are?
Not just beautiful
but deep,
like they are hiding whole truths
behind their quiet shine.
And when she lines them with kohlโฆ
it almost feels unfair.
It is already difficult to look away,
but when that dark edge frames them,
it becomes impossible.
They undo me.
No words are needed
when eyes speak the way hers do.
Or maybe I am simply obsessed
teaching myself
the secret language of her gaze
by stealing glances
when she is not looking.
What would I not give
to see even a flicker of yearning
in those eyes for me?
Because when they meet mine,
I forget things
I should remember.
I lose thoughts
I meant to hold onto.
I fall completely
into them.
And I wonderโฆ
am I the only one who feels this way?
When the moon rises,
the whole world stops to admire it.
When flowers breathe out their fragrance,
everyone nearby knows.
When cold wind touches skin,
we all feel it.
So eyes this beautiful,
this quietly powerful
I cannot be the only one
they affect.
Stillโฆ
I hope she knows,
even if I never say it aloud,
that the eyes she carries
are the only light
that can reach
the darker corners
of my heart.
Back at the market, Susan's worry turned to panic when Tamara didn't return. She searched the stalls, asked vendors and friends, but there was no sign of her daughter. By evening, she reported Tamara missing to the local police, sparking a frantic community-wide hunt. Neighbors, family, and volunteers combed the streets of Nyeri town and the surrounding slums, calling Tamara's name into the night. Posters were hastily made and distributed, showing the girl's smiling face. Susan, distraught and sleepless, appealed to anyone who might have seen her child, her voice breaking as she described Tamara's outfit... a simple dress and sandals. The search stretched into the next day, May 25, with growing desperation. Whispers of foul play began to circulate, but with no leads, hope faded.
๐๐ก๐ ๐๐ซ๐๐๐ค๐ญ๐ก๐ซ๐จ๐ฎ๐ ๐ก
๐ช๐๐๐๐, ๐ซ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐, ๐๐๐
๐ญ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐ช๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐
The breakthrough came on May 26, thanks to a combination of vigilant policing and modern technology. A hawk-eyed officer named Otieno Atieno, reviewing surveillance footage from nearby businesses, spotted something suspicious on CCTV from Jadel Auto Spares, a local car parts shop overlooking the path to Witemere. The grainy video clearly showed Macharia walking hand-in-hand with Tamara toward his home on the afternoon she vanished, her trusting steps contrasting with his sinister intent. This clue "conspired" against him, as the judge would later put it. Armed with this evidence, police descended on Macharia's shack. Under interrogation, he initially denied involvement but soon cracked, leading detectives to the shallow grave under his bed. Digging through the earth, they unearthed Tamara's body... wrapped in a simple cloth, bearing marks of violence and decomposition after two days. The discovery sent shockwaves through the community; angry crowds gathered outside, demanding justice, as police whisked Macharia away to prevent mob violence. A post-mortem examination on May 30 at the Nyeri County Referral Hospital confirmed the nightmare: Tamara had been sexually assaulted, with a broken hymen, genital injuries, and internal hemorrhaging, before being suffocated to death. Semen samples matched Macharia, sealing the forensic case.
๐๐ก๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐ฅ ๐๐ฎ๐ซ๐ฌ๐ฎ๐ข๐ญ
๐ช๐๐๐๐๐๐, ๐ช๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐, ๐๐๐
๐ท๐๐๐ ๐ช๐๐๐๐๐๐
Macharia was charged with murder under Section 203 of the Penal Code, as well as defilement. On May 29, just days after his arrest, he recorded a detailed confession with detectives, admitting to the luring, assault, killing, and burialโdescribing it in terms that the judge later called "an excerpt from a horror movie." He claimed no mental incapacity or supernatural influence, though he bizarrely tried to blame "the devil" in mitigation, a notion the court dismissed outright. Initially held in custody for further investigation, he appeared before Justice Kizito Magare at the Nyeri High Court on June 12, 2025, where he pleaded guilty. However, the judge, cautious about the capital nature of the charge, ordered a 46-day remand for reflection and a mental assessment at Murangโa Level V Hospital, which deemed him fit to stand trial. In July 2025, Macharia changed his plea to not guilty, perhaps hoping for a trial delay or leniency. But on January 22, 2026, he reversed course again, pleading guilty once more, citing a "change of heart."
๐๐ก๐ ๐๐จ๐ฎ๐ซ๐ญ๐ซ๐จ๐จ๐ฆ ๐๐ซ๐๐ฆ๐
๐ป๐๐ ๐บ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐ฏ๐๐๐๐๐๐
The sentencing hearing on February 19, 2026, was a gripping courtroom drama, broadcast in snippets that gripped the nation. Prosecutor presented the evidence: the CCTV, confession, post-mortem, and victim impact statements. Susan Wanjiru took the stand, her testimony heartfelt and devastating, recounting the permanent emotional trauma and the fear now gripping the community. Macharia, showing no remorse, reportedly smiled during her words... a detail that horrified the judge and sealed his fate.
Sometimes what people need most in life isnโt advice, solutions, or someone telling them to stay strong. Sometimes what the heart truly needs is something far simpler โ to feel safe, to feel understood, and to feel held. A sincere hug has a quiet power. It says, without words, โYouโre not alone. Iโm here. Weโll get through this.โ Many people carry burdens they never talk about, worries they keep to themselves, and fears they hide behind a brave face. In those moments, comfort doesnโt come from speeches or explanations. It comes from warmth, closeness, and the steady reassurance that someone cares enough to stand beside you. As people grow older, they begin to understand that life is not measured only in achievements or milestones. It is measured in the small acts of kindness that carry us through difficult days. A hand on your shoulder. A familiar voice on the phone. A hug that lasts a few seconds longer than expected. Those moments become the anchors that steady us when life feels uncertain. No matter how strong someone appears, every person reaches a point when they simply need to feel that human connection, that quiet reminder that everything will be okay โ or at least that they wonโt have to face it alone. ๐
ะงะธัะฐัั ะฟะพะปะฝะพัััั…
17.3.24
Hope.
Most humans don't believe in God's existence because they want to, rather because it gives them hope it wasn't all for naught. Take the most religious person you know for instance, what if they knew today heaven and heal don't exist. It would crush them, plus the entire foundation their lives have been built upon. So after all, isn't it just nice to hope. And it doesn't hurt to. You hope that when you go to heaven you shall meet your dearest people that left before you. You hope that you can't have kept yourself from sinning just do die and have your story end there. You hope that heaven exists, so those that did you wrong can't go unpunished. And hope hell exists, so the vilest of humans can go there. Sometimes I think hope is a disease. Because, what if those hopes are crushed? Would you still be able to stand as you? Or would you be swallowed up in the abyss?
/channel/cul_14_pry
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พ๐
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ด โข๐คฌ
There is a sweetness that hurts when it stays,
Like honey on lips that already taste of goodbyes,
A moment that knows it is living on borrowed breath,
Smiling because it remembers how to die.
Two hearts sit together on the edge of a clock,
Time licking its blade in the corner of the room,
Every laugh is a promise that breaks as it forms,
Every touch rehearses a future of absence.
We hold each other like stolen daylight,
Careful with warmth, reckless with time,
Even the shadows cling a little longer,
As if darkness itself doesnโt want this to end.
Love here is not blind โ it sees too much,
It reads the ending before the story is told,
Still turns the page with trembling hands,
Still falls for the sentence it knows will hurt.
This is not hope; hope lies about forever,
This is honesty dressed in tenderness,
A vow made to moments instead of tomorrows,
A faith in the now because later betrays.
We drink from a cup already cracked,
And call the leaking sweetness divine,
Every drop that escapes becomes memory,
Every sip tastes like the shape of loss.
Even silence grows heavier between our breaths,
Pregnant with the words we wonโt say,
The air learns the weight of goodbye early,
So the farewell doesnโt have to fall alone.
This kind of love is a gentle cruelty,
It gives you everything but time,
Teaches the heart to hold and release at once,
To grieve while still being grateful.
When the end arrives, it wonโt feel sudden,
It has been sitting with us all along,
Smiling through every shared heartbeat,
Practicing its name in the quiet of our closeness.
So we love like people who know the cost,
Spend our warmth before the cold can claim it,
Not trying to win against the endingโ
Only trying to make the ending remember us.
~N@shh.....
I will not feel the blue
I will not feel blue on this day of love ,
No I won't feel dejected in this special day
Its the day which two heart meet,
And they also have their say..
There is a feeling of emptiness within ,
A feeling of holding back too,
A feeling of not having someone beside ,
Is causing some heart breaks too.
I know this will not be so long ,
And I will meet someone,
Who will gel along with me ,
And understand me so well in love ..
Not many moments to behold ,
On this day which is a special one ,
Happy valentines to all !!!
ยฉ njorogemercy683
Disclaimer ; No infringement intended. All rights and credits reserved for the poetess
*Hollow Crown*
*By Abdulmalik Yahya (The Punsmith)*
When fools think they matter,
they borrow noise
for a spine,
stand on borrowed bowels,
calling rot a ladder.
They beat their chests with rented drums,
mistake vibration for pulse,
mistake volume for value,
mistake being seen
for being solid.
They speak in mirrors,
applauded by their own reflections,
confuse glare for glitz,
confuse attention for fact.
They mistake motion for meaning,
mistake clapping for consent,
mistake survival
for significance,
and call it legacy.
Let them perform their hunger
on rooftops,
let them crown noise as king.
Time has a way
of starving feuds of fuel.
Watch how emptiness rehearses importance
how shallow cups brag loudest
when barely full.
How dust earns a modest brass
once kissed by borrowed sunlight.
ยฉ 06-02-2026
*I Love the Idea of You*
I love the idea of you
like a horror flick with a happy end
where all the monsters are polite
and never chew on my brain
Youโre the fantasy I binge watch
while ignoring the screams outside
a Netflix show with perfect ratings
no glitches, no awkward silences
The real you?
Oh, thatโs the directorโs cut
blood, mess, and plot twists
that nobody asked for
I love the idea of you
because actual you is like expired milk
fun to sniff, hard to swallow
and guaranteed to ruin my day
So letโs toast to the idea
that neat little nightmare in my head
because dealing with you in 3D?
Nah, Iโd rather stay single and sane
_TAF_
I lost everything to love,
drowned in the sweetness of its promise.
Lust pulled me under,
a wave too strong to resist.
I surfaced only to find
my soul had drifted far from shore.
Lost.
โUzithepoet
I know I sound like a broken record
every time I tell you what you mean to me.
But my heart insists
it reminds me again and again,
especially when I see you.
It gets scared of the thought
that one day someone else might say
what I forgot to.
So I keep telling you,
not because Iโve run out of new words,
but because youโre someone
I never want to stop reminding
how much you matter to me.
I feel no shame,
no hesitation,
in showing how much I want you.
My feelings for you
arenโt something I want to hide
or tone down.
If anything,
I want to be louder about them
clearer, bolder
unafraid of letting you know
that you matter to me
more than I know how to explain.
So itโs up to you
if you want to keep listening
to this broken record.
Because it has no off button,
no pause,
no idea how to stop...
it just keeps playing
every time my heart feels your presence.
LIFE IS UNFAIR
Life is unfair
It needs no failure
It needs those who prepare
To those who take care,
It offers a chair
Life is unfair indeed
Especially to those who can't succeed
It doesn't want them to be pleased
In it, there's no over speed
For one can't procceed
Life is a journey
Full of pain without money
Really it sounds funny
If you're canny,
It offers honey
Life is a real gamble
It needs one to struggle
But easy to escape trouble
If you engalf humble
No need to scramble
For it hates one to stumble
By: Wisdom Msungabanthu Mlambia
( Msungapipo)
[POEM] A DIALOGUE OF WATCHING by Kenneth Rexroth
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