dream

deep \ inspace

deep \ inspace
Old man &/ withered
@in the center
lying.in a
crypt
suspended by nothing
stormy &/ coldstone / Morpheus
black.@in
deepempty \ inspace
dying.is a
person/ified
Old man sleeping
&: the movement
of molecules
is his @in a
deepemptydream \ inspace

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I Need to Vent

Palms 37:4 ESV

"Delight yourself in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart."
 
This year I have been craving adventure and traveling. I have always had the desire to go to Spain and study abroad during college; but college is so far away. I want to go now but I know the reason why I can't go now is because I'm not ready. I'm not ready to go out of the country. I'm not ready to get on a plane for the first time and by myself. I'm not ready to be on my own. I'm just not prepared. I see all these people from school going on trips even around the country that seem so amazing to me. They go to the mountains, the ocean, or even a cottage. 
I want to go. I want to get out of my comfort zone and just have fun. Meet new people. I need to get out. 
I'm not ungrateful I just need a change. I want to see the world. That may scare some people but I want to go. I want to slow down and take in the scenery and not stress about pleasing others and standards. 
I want to find myself. Because here I'm not me. I don't feel like I'm living up to my full potential. God has bigger plans for me and they're not fulfilled here. 
I don't know what's going on. My feelings have never been this strong before. Maybe God's working in me I don't know. I just need to figure it out. I want a plan. But I have to wait.
Everyone wants to travel but do I have the guts to actually do it? I hope so! 
Author's Notes/Comments: 

I know this isn't a poem but I just needed to get it out. Maybe someone will actually listen out there.

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The dream of dreams we chase

When I was a little kid, I didn’t understand the struggle. I minded myself in my trouble free bubble.

I lived life without caring, what my actions might cause. It was sooner as a teenager I learned all about the flaws.

 

I wanted to be a policeman, why? Because I thought they were cool. But thanks to imagination less supervisors, my dream faded in school.

‘’You shouldn’t even bother, you don’t have the potential. No matter what your dreams are, for our system it’s inconsequential’’.

 

I walked home that day from school, feeling all my dreams were crushed. Like someone took it out off my head, put in the toilet and flushed.

 

I felt an anger rise in me from somewhere I can’t recall. Why did I have to be let down, when others who had dreamt the same, got their picture hung up on the wall?

 

We always hear you can make it to the top by working hard. How can I do that, when others take my goals and press discard?

 

I said to myself what happened today wasn’t fair. I will train, push my boundaries, I will prove you wrong I swear!

 

Each day on a piece paper, I wrote little milestones I had to complete. I didn’t stop before I was satisfied, I wouldn’t keep sitting on the passenger seat.

 

I wouldn’t hesitate putting more weight on in the gym and on my shoulders. Before I helped them, now I passed by people who had wrote their dreams onto folders.

 

I didn’t care about anyone but myself, why should I? I was the guy, who flew high up till the sky, you were just on standby.

 

I become a roaming robot, who was controlled by the evil voices. They directed me, led me to some risky and stupid choices.

 

In all of this madness, I realized what I had become. I looked down on my self, how could I be so dump?

 

I was sucked into the dark side, the world of meaningless competition. I had abandoned my sane for this, had forgotten about my true life mission.

 

This was many years ago, I’m different today. The only way to express my happiness, is by going down on my knees and pray.

 

Martin Luther King’s dream wasn’t about fame, it was about equality. They dream we chase today are just a twisted apology.

 

Today I’m not chasing any dreams, I am at rest with myself. I am so damn grateful for what I have, I’ll never again put it on a shelf.

 

Whenever I feel the world is going down and I’m stressed. I just have to sit down in my chair, and think about, that I’m blessed.

 

I have been the one who had been giving the gift of life. When I get older, I’ll teach my children what I learned, smiling while sitting next to my beautiful wife.

 

I am here to tell you, you need to give yourself some more credit and respect. Because you can do so much more than you expect.

 

There will come many people into your life, and tell you how to beat this life long race. The beauty is, I’ve found my own version, of the dream of dreams we chase.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is a poem about the american dream. It's passed on what the dream is. It's not just about fame. The story in this poem is a story from my personal life. 

I wont spoil too mucn, because I also want to you to think what the poem means. 

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The Sun Rises

Folder: 
Beauty

The sun rises

A puppeteer to the world

Allowing us to brighten ourselves

With itself, brilliant


The air lifting

A thieving sensation of sorrows

Allowing us to unwind

Unbind; resilience


The day faring

A warrior of progressive pleasure

Allowing us to dream

Supreme tomorrows

MY LAST DREAM OF YOU

My last dream of you

And I saw you again in my dream last night..
Were on the cliff of the mountain above the ocean under the night sky..
You smile and held my hand so tight
And you ask me if we could fly
But when you step your foot in the air
I realized that my heart is too heavy to make myself light.
I felt that everything you done to me was unfair.
What I want for you is wrong, what I don’t is right .
Im hanging on you like an anchor in a ship that weighting you down.
“I’m sorry..” I said.

I hold out your hand and feel my body splashed into the water as a sky meet the dawn..
And that’s how my dreams end.

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Shattered Dream [Story]

There, right under the hackneyed lamppost, the old beggar sits on a shabby sack. That very sack is like a Persian aesthetic carpet to him. Today is rather special for him since his sweet daughter Asha has asked for a red saree from his father. Asha is a wonderful name that stands for ‘hope’.

Before leaving home, the old beggar has promised Asha that he will certainly buy her a beautiful saree. So far so good! He keeps on chanting the name of Allah over and over again. Some passers-by just look at him with no expression on their faces; some feel pity and throw a few coins on the sack.

Whenever the old beggar chants holy names, he keeps his eyes closed. It is not because he pretends to be a blind man; in fact, he does it out of his extreme love and reverence for the Almighty and the holy prophets.

The old beggar wishes that the hoarding is better than any other day since he has a promise to keep. It is almost nine p.m. in the evening now. There are hardly any passers-by to be seen. He decides to leave as soon as possible.

The old beggar thinks about purchasing the saree from the nearest shop. He must make haste as it is already late. While rushing towards that certain shop, he keeps on counting the notes. Obviously, he is more than happy since he holds quite a good amount of money in his hands.

As the old beggar moves along, he also thinks of buying a chicken. It has been long since the impoverished family tasted chicken. He decides not to beg tomorrow since he has been suffering from fever and the hoarded amount will keep the family moving for at least two successive days.

Out of the blue, a bunch of young thugs stops him on a secluded bridge. They are six in number holding knives. The place is dark like coal. The old beggar has burst into tears. He is crying like a baby as if his eyes turned into endless fountains.

 The old beggar knows it well that if he shouts, there is hardly anyone to hear. Besides, his life will be at risk because those goons will not think twice before taking his life away. One of the thugs, perhaps the leader, steps forward. His face can not be seen clearly because of the darkness around. However, he says,

- Old man, give me whatever you have and leave the place silently like a ghost!

- I beg of you son, let me leave; I am just a beggar. My family will perish if you snatch whatever little amount I have.

- I do not care about your family. Let it go to hell. I do not want to take it forcibly. Just hand it over to me quickly.

- Please, my son! Please! Have mercy on this poor soul! 

            At that very moment, the leader takes all the money that the old beggar has and leaves the place pushing him hard. The next day, the old beggar discovers himself on the hospital bed. His wife and daughter are there. He weeps on and on, so does each of the family members. The old beggar is dejected most because he has not been able to keep the promise that he made in the previous day to her daughter. Asha has passionately held his father’s hand. The old beggar says nothing to anyone as if he lost his power of speaking! He asks himself, “Why does this happen to us, why?” Finds no answer...

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tags:

আমার স্বপ্ন!

পারবো কি হতে বিখ্যাত,


শেইক্সপিয়ারের মত?


 সার্থক মনে হবে কোনও একজন পাঠকের হৃদয়,


করতে পারলে জয়।


 

একজন মা তার সন্তানের জন্য,


সোয়েটার বুনে হোন যেমন ধন্য,


আমিও তেমন কথার মালা যাই বুনে,


মানবতার তরে, ক্ষণে ক্ষণে।


 

কেউ হয়তো বলবে অসাধারণ,


কেউ বা বলবে অতি সাধারণ,


কেউ হয়তো অটোগ্রাফের জন্য নেবে পিছু!


কেউ বা চিনেও চিনবে না, নেই করার কিছু!


 

তবুও আমি লিখেই যাব,


যতদিন এ স্বপ্নপুরীতে রব,


যতদিন গাছের পাতার মত নাচবে প্রাণ,


ততদিন যাবো গেয়ে গান!


 

লিখবো, লিখবো এবং লিখবো,


বিনিময়ে সকলের ভালোবাসা ফুলের মত কুড়িয়ে নেবো,


সহস্র বছর পরে রাখে যদি কেউ মনে, কাঁদে যদি কোনও পাঠকবন্ধু!


তবে হাসবো আমি ওপার হতে, থাকবে চোখে সুখের অশ্রুবিন্দু!

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tags:

"The Courthouse"

Folder: 
Just a thought!

I had a dream...

 I went to a bar called "The Courthouse"

 Where all the barmaids wear butt length judges robes...

  They sell T-shirts, that say...

 

                             "The Courthouse"

"That one place, where you show up and then get served"

 

The cover charge..."A one shot minimum"

You and your friends sit at a table downing Jello shots of

"White Lightening", and yell..."I wanna get served!"

Author's Notes/Comments: 

"The Courthouse"

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*Can It Be*

May-10-2009 
Trisha M. Barrek Hopkins

Can it be 
That god finally sent me 
Someone to help me pass my fears 
An angel to help me see 
That I can finally set my past free 
And Finally let go of these tears

Can it be That I am meant to actually be happy 
And not cry sadness every night 
Before I rest my eyes to dream 
Or I don't have to worry about how to fight 
Off the bad dreams that may creep 
On every corner of my mind 
That i might be able to have a better sight 
Of that perfect soul that I am able to find

Can it be 
That luck has finally found a seat next to mine 
For I am beginning to feel a real heartbeat once more 
Because of you I no longer have a pain 
And living is starting to no longer be a chore 
My skies are brighter and sunny there's no more rain 
I thank you deep down within my soul 
For there is a place within me for you to hold 
To keep safe and to protect 
And to take care of for forever 
And to you I promise you this 
Your soul I will keep from harm 
And every night to you a kiss 
Because our soul is as one 
Our love will soon begin to create a wonder bliss 
When we are together Hun 
Not one minute I want to miss

Can it be That god finally understands that Ive been through enough 
Are you the angel I am meant to be with till I die 
The one who is meant to carry me through the light in the sky 
Are you the one who'll make me once again strong 
Can you protect me from the tears I may cry 
Or not run away when things go wrong 
Can you honestly promise you will never say good-bye 
Can it really be true and not a dream 
I feel it in my body in my soul my sweetheart God brought us together 
Because even he sees we actually belong 
Always and forever 
And a day 
Even after we are in the next life we start 
Baby every night I pray 
That even then you'll still have my heart....

Trish Barrek Hopkins

COPYRIGHT*

I hope you enjoyed the poem

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