Hamed 📝 (hamedns)

Your hair was the tide of the sea, and when I closed my eyes I was a drifting board riding its restless waves. Call my name I am a stranger to voices Call me, so I won’t fear the storm Call me, for in the noise and clamor of the world every voice feels foreign to me. Like a child lost in an alleyway like a migrant unable to speak the language of a new homeland like a bird fallen behind its flock like an autumn leaf carried anywhere the wind chooses I wander. And your voice is the only familiar thing I have You are the lighthouse on the shore and I will save myself only by the light you cast. Poet : myself

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Happy birthday again 🥳🎄 @tryemerge.eth, create a workflow Let people with different personalities celebrate their birthdays with cartoon characters

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@tryemerge.eth, create a workflow SpongeBob — Workflow (Short) Input Images: PFP_1 — my PFP PFP_2 — @atown PFP_3 — @zahrash PFP_4 — @atenajafari Turn these people into SpongeBob characters underwater in the sea, anime style.

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He drains the last sip and cries out: How can a person forget their own name? And he forgets that he forgets. We stand, watching in all the legends, forgetting that it’s possible. And then, in the height of forgetting, we remember our names. And he sets his glass down and says: See? It’s impossible for one to forget their name. To be emptied is easy. To remain empty, that’s what’s hard. In a moment, you are emptied. And you forget that you were not supposed to forget. And you replay it a thousand times, as if another life is not supposed to begin. Again, he shouts: I forget that I have forgotten. I have forgotten my name, my identity, my soul. Its trace fades, and once more, he forgets that he had forgotten . Poet: Myself

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100,000 $tort for anyone who bets over 100,000 $Banger under my poem Like, recast, and tag your $tipn friends

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I wish you had read a poem, [or] loved a cat perhaps then, you wouldn’t have polluted the world so much. Poet : Turgut_Uyar [Turkey]

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I think of you in the silent bends that drag me toward the valleys of unrest I think of you in the nights so cold they chase away the kindness of smiles I think of you in the ache that never repeats, that begs the wind to end it all I think of you in every nowhere that I still call me Poet: Myself

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