Thoughts Hub
Open in Telegram
Blog of poetic thoughts, worth contemplation. • Notes from the Cloud: amzn.to/3pgpOcD • To Drown in the Height: amzn.to/3THLexg Author: @Hubeyb_Mohammed Lectures: @isolee
Show more📈 Analytical overview of Telegram channel Thoughts Hub
Channel Thoughts Hub (@thoughts_hub) in the English language segment is an active participant. Currently, the community unites 11 906 subscribers, ranking 2 994 in the Motivation & Quotes category and 46 779 in the India region.
📊 Audience metrics and dynamics
Since its creation on невідомо, the project has demonstrated rapid growth, gathering an audience of 11 906 subscribers.
According to the latest data from 02 December, 2024, the channel demonstrates stable activity. Although there has been a change in the number of participants by 0 over the last 30 days and by 0 over the last 24 hours, overall reach remains high.
- Verification status: Not verified
- Engagement rate (ER): The average audience engagement rate is 0%. Within the first 24 hours after publication, content typically collects N/A% reactions from the total number of subscribers.
- Post reach: On average, each post receives 0 views. Within the first day, a publication typically gains 0 views.
- Reactions and interaction: The audience actively supports content: the average number of reactions per post is 0.
📝 Description and content policy
The author describes the resource as a platform for expressing subjective opinions:
“Blog of poetic thoughts, worth contemplation.
• Notes from the Cloud:
amzn.to/3pgpOcD
• To Drown in the Height:
amzn.to/3THLexg
Author: @Hubeyb_Mohammed
Lectures: @isolee”
Thanks to the high frequency of updates (latest data received on 03 December, 2024), the channel maintains relevance and a high level of publication reach. Analytics show that the audience actively interacts with content, making it an important point of influence in the Motivation & Quotes category.
11 906
Subscribers
No data24 hours
No data7 days
No data30 days
Posts Archive
11 906
When he wakes up from his sleep and when he falls asleep in the gloomy morning and the joyful evening, he repeats, raving: No, there is no time left, there is no time for death, he sniffs the trail on the threshold as a wolf sniffs his urine in a moment of fury in the circle he drew for departure. There is no time for the phrase to shiver from the cliff of his being, falling from the trees of the deep unconscious, blocking the horizons and roads for him, and sometimes raining on the body of a woman who illuminates the end of the dark tunnels.
11 906
I am not a shadow of anyone's body. Like clouds, I carry in my saliva the genes of transit, and the remnants of what my ancestors left of the ambiguity of the beginning and the end signs. I may be without soft hands that soothe the ingratitude of barren paths, to rearrange broken traffic lights in the columns of time.
11 906
On my back, I carry, like a camel, a heap of wishes, whose return has not grown, or perhaps, like the fruit of a rotten cactus thorns that has not withered. I have no field to plant what I have in my heart of the corpses of naked words. Signs of vigilance fail me.. when I am fascinated by the madness of a cold night with its ghosts. And from my deserted balcony, I look at me without a face that knows me.
11 906
I try to go out on my own, and every time the only thing clinging to my coat pockets is the doorknob.
11 906
As if you love and are ashamed to say, or hate and are afraid to say; Like you're afraid. Or that what frightens you remains inside you, grows, becomes a mountain and you are too weak to bear it and too weak to say, that now you are like a man who carries a mountain inside and cannot move. He cannot raise an eye or a hand.
11 906
The sound of growing grass woke me up. For the sake of vigilance, it is impossible to sleep early. When I am deaf, the dream kidnaps me. I reached the water following the mirage without feeling thirsty.
11 906
I'm looking for a safe place for this confetti, a place that keeps the fractures of my soul for me.
11 906
Adam, you are me and my blood runs in your wrists and in your weeds I let out my verbal serpent. To liberate or suffocate the sleeping firebird in a poem in which the world and the past boil.
11 906
I did not fear, while you were living in my bowels, that every remote vinegar would become away from me, for people are two, one whom I adore and the other whom I did not count among the living.
11 906
Every hand, every hand that hears in its palm, your eyes fall into mine. Every alabaster, every alabaster echoes my prayer to you.
11 906
We, the defenseless villagers, when we find no room for the shepherds, look at the flute as a memory of the cane.
11 906
It is another sleepless night, a battlefield that has become familiar, and where the desire for victory is no more and no less burning than the desire for defeat.
11 906
He was sitting on chairs that he imagined were what human forms ended up in, waiting for a long time in his memory.
11 906
I sit in front of the mirror, in an arduous exercise to remove the smell left by my lips on my neck, and although I do not need to document the sadness, I do not fail to count my tears that I dropped in the wastebasket, and I see my eyes more beautiful than my imaginings of them and I think that understanding is more beautiful than forgiveness and that I was with you on a journey to a holy place.
11 906
Happiness is to expose you to loss. What's the anniversary You are in someone's dream. What love? Do not hear or see. What is sadness? To remain alone and blind in love. The lover is the most silent. What is the sea? Dream. What's wrong? You have awakened a ship sinking into oblivion. Who is closest? The stranger.
11 906
I do not want anything from the world, but the hole in my soul if someone does not put a rose in it; You will become a gun.
11 906
In the evening I turn off the lights I light two candles or my fingers. Sometimes wandering spirits flow from me. The streets are full of cats with many lives. And dogs that heal humans. What should we do in this night? Do we go around the city killing for fancy fun, setting the rotten city on fire? Mustiness fills the city, filthy streets, agony everywhere, skulls full of holes filled with lies and wind, genitals hanging here and there in musty spaces and rooms, nudity for quick masturbation, no one smells the putridness of death. Floods to clean the cities of the dead, without the sense of smell.
11 906
The silence in the house touches the infinite. I hear time fall, drop by drop. As fluid worlds cross me, I penetrate time through silence. Your silence is tired herds.
11 906
All roads are barriers to our future. Prisoners overlooking an exile with waves that have no waves, fear transmitted by the mirror.
11 906
Everything is appropriate; create whatever you want - the present tense is past, and what was not was, and the unseen is sense, and turbulent like a cloud. It is love that reveals your sunshine in your protruding wrinkles.
