White Souls #6

My name is Rachid (the one who designates God), 63 years old, my home is the streets.
I have just spent years in a hospital where I thought I would die. Yet no one came to my bedside.
Since childhood the lack of love and rejection seem to haunt me ...
I thought I had finished with a beautiful wedding and children ... What a disappointment!
I lost all my fortune, no one wanted me anymore. A poor man is no longer worthy of interest in this world. My wife took the house and threw me out. Neither she nor the children ever wanted to see me or even care about me.
The street has become my home, the cobblestones, the earth, the sidewalks, my bed, the sky, my roof. Loneliness is now my only companion with the sadness that accompanies it.
So I lift my eyes to the highest heavens and I launch my prayers every day, fervent, burning, like calls for help, breaking through this invisible glass ceiling between us and the unspeakable ... And I can see Him and Him speak: "My God, save me from here!"

Gazing the Alcatraz

The power of horses 🐎 , a sight to behold,
Their strength and might, a story untold,       
With manes that flow like a river of gold,       
And eyes that gleam, wild and bold.

They run through fields, free and unbridled,
       Their hooves pounding, earth trembles unbridled,       Their spirit unbroken, wild and wild,
       And in their presence, we are beguiled.

Their loyalty, a bond unbreakable,       
Their courage, unshakable and unbreakable,
       Their beauty, a sight unforgettable,
       As they carry us through lands untouchable.

For in the power of horses, we see our own,       
A wild spirit that cannot be owned,       
A connection that is deeply sewn,       
And in their presence, we feel truly grown.

So let us honor these magnificent beasts,
       And celebrate their power and feats,       
For in their grace and strength, we find our own,       
And together, we roam free and alone.

Power Horses

You bring me honeysuckle while my happiness bites the plum of your mouth. My savage, solitary soul, my desires that sends them all running, hunting you like a puma. 
We have seen the morning star burn, kissing our eyes, and over our heads the gray light unwind in turning fans. My words rained over you, stroking you. I have loved the sunned mother-of-pearl of your body. I go so far as to think that you own the universe. I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.

Sensual Strokes

White Souls #7

I am Kamilia, a young woman of 27 , despite my extremely humble origins and like so many other young women of my age, full of hopes and ideals. However, I always try to keep in my thoughts and actions a very high sense of human values. I constantly struggle: against the constraints of fate, in the face of the painful frustrations that impose themselves on me, to admit certain inevitable failures and to persevere at all costs on the path of my deepest aspirations. My credo is never to let anyone break my dreams, ever ! I will realize my dreams.
To love is the last bulwark against all the evils of this furious world. Imperfect that we are and perfection is not human.
I strive to be only my truth: far from pretenses, the slightest lies. Don't lie to anyone anymore. No longer lie to yourself!
If only to respect the painful memory of the man to whom I owe these beautiful human values ​​and that a deadly virus has just taken no pity from me: my father.

imedkolli

imedkolli

Featured (0)

All Works (0)