Ink

they want to

pick the stars from my eyes

and hold them tightly in closed fists to capture its shine

they want to take the bounce from my step

anchor it within the red-rustic chains of despair

they want to drain my happiness like a broken glass

and use its shards to etch the patterns of my demise

They want to steal my breath away

and leave a corpse that will not use the air
Curse the soles of my feet that step to make a print
I only meant to reach my goals and never

meant to waste the

ink

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Change

leaning forward reading what I write

It sees me shift

twisted out of shape beneath the weight

that rests upon my shoulders

-let’s call it fate

I look it from my soul unto its

invisible face that

channels

like a strong wind

“It is time” it says

“you have arrived. This

is the end of the

line.”

Change

I saw it once at the edge of the horizon

It has arrived

and Life. Begins. Now. 

Why

is a small dog’s bark louder than its

bite?

we throw our words up into the air

to settle back down like dust

creating impressions within those

bubbles of illusion.

Tread sofly

they will pop upon further investigation

ask yourself if beneath that self-promoting facade

there lies the weak sharp bitter grains of truth

that clear your soul like a scrub that

reds your skin when it scrapes the first layer off.

Why do we feel the need to armor ourselves

in pride? When freedom unhinges us from 

the doorways that we entrap ourselves into

so we might create our own reflections of

truth, when words were meant to communicate

and we are scientists still crafting its art.

Try

to catch the limits of 

your own 

goals

those invisible lights

momentarily

flashing

above you like  an idea

you almost 

forgot

if you run in circles

like a 

headless chicken

your path will only 

end up in a

knot

monster

jump over my intentions

and I’m already gone

so you will fall like a missed

step your

stomach will skip a beat

and with your heart in your hand you will

scream

in surprise

and call it anger

you want me to be that civilised

play-dough that will flatten at your fist

-punch remarks. Funny projected with

a fear and a lifetime of hopelessness

of ‘what if I’m not good enough?’ lurking

in the back of your head like the pillow

that it rests on filled with broken dreams

and sharp edges that cut you when you move

so, stay still, be aware that your projections only

protect you from your own reflections; the monster

that you see in everybody else is in fact

the monster that you see

in yourself

Identity

I am an African, my great grandmothers shadow is

stitched into the flat of my A’s

I am an Arab, the thick of my lashes set like the curl of my R’s and the

sail that took my ancestors overseas

I am the nomad’s grandchild, the consequence of a new place

The closing chapter of a war story

I carry the slave-bearer’s blood, who took whip against wisdom and watched

as we reached new heights of inhumanity

I am that slave’s great grandchild, bought as a twelve year old and sold

into a new world, terrified

I am that second-wife’s grand-niece, destine to live in the confines of a castle

only to be liberated by an inevitable blood-shed

blood will always be shed

I am my history, stretched back into the dust of time

Reaching out into a future to claim my identity

diary of a beginner driver (watch out roads)

So, I got my license last week (just over a week actually) and since then there have been a few…incidents (getting less I assure you). I figured I should probably keep a diary to track my absentminded tactics. So, lets go…

Day1, dad gives me his car. I am not so used to driving it, it is much bigger than the one I practiced in. I make my way to the agency to sort out papers for University (I am currently accepted from today- yay) and then I drive back home, passing by the shop and then going to work and then coming back home. Rest for a couple of hours and then there is an art exhibition to go to; it is night time now, and the second time I have ever driven at night ( and the first time alone, and in this car). I don’t know the way to this place, and after a few cars flashing me I realise my lights are not on…and then I realise I don’t know how to switch them on (now I know). Somehow at that point I could only mange to flash them back, switching on the lights that only switch on when you hold it. Now, the roads are packed full of cars everywhere its a small two-way road and of my choice of left or right to find the place- I pick right, the wrong choice. Reach the end of the lane and turn into someone’s parking to do a drive and reverse- drive and reserve- drive and reverse turn so that I’m finally ready to join the road again, waiting for just the right moment, please note- the blaring glaring night lights look like watercolour and I am terrified from shaking hands to an aching tummy at this point. I then make my way down the road, slow enough to get angry beeps behind me, still looking for the place. . . I Find it! finally, but alas, no parking. In my happiness I swerve across the road past the cars in the opposite direction and towards the building, that is jam-packed with cars, leaving me no room but to manoeuvre my way forward, inching slowly, in the small space left on the out-of-road road, with each car in the opposite direction having to move around me as I’m kind of on the road here, terrified, crawling forward. In the end I make it to a parking, get there, take pics, notes, yada da da and then while leaving, cut the corner and hit the plastic bumper of a car. Yep, one day in on a license and already an accident. Nothing happened to the other car, but the passenger seat of dads is now dented. 

Day 2, make it to work okay and lalala, then I park off-road for my classes, forgetting that it had just rained, and get stuck in the mud. The teacher pushed it out while I reversed, and it worked. Now its only a muddy interior and the fact that I’m out of petrol to deal with (first power stop tomorrow) 

Day 3, I’m going to a place and lose my way, I pick the road less travelled by only to find it is concreted shut…now I have a dilemma…some steep mean looking platform V edge and I’ve somehow got to reverse-n-drive my way around it, do I make it? I thought I could.. 3 minutes later I’m stuck and the edge of that V is somehow wedged right smack into the middle of the cars body- reversing would get me stuck on front wheels- forward would get me stuck on back wheels. Then the beeps begin and its a line of cars behind- at this point I realise that yes- it is a one way way to the way that they wanted to go, and I’m blocking it with not a clue how to get out of this one- I look across the road and tell this kind fellow driver in that age-old language of hopeless…what now? how? He takes the seat and drives it free for me, helped by another pedestrian, it was quite a manoeuvre , not something I would have been able to do – and the plastic bit at the bottom of the car is hanging down, also- its got lots of mud rocks in it, what do I do, though.. I’ve not a clue.

Day 4, fearless. . . I drove to the same place, almost got stuck in the mud at another location but then reversed my own way out of it, was feeling confident enough to overtake a few cars and drive 100 at some parts and Not feel terrified. I was peaceful and aware, letting cars pass when they needed to (checking the rearview) and overtaking with caution and not swerving nervously if other cars neared me….I think this driving thing, it does get easier 🙂

we are different and the same

You write novels, I write poems

we seek truth

I write metaphors, you write

matter of fact

we seek wonder

you are technical, I am a space-ship

we both want to transcend 

You are solid colour, I am haze

we seek three-dimensional effects

you love how an entire plot unfolds in

a symphonic bliss of unity

I love the way words unite their sounds together

in a sentence

I like alliteration you like attention to detail

you like characters I like caricatures I like bi-polar

pandemoniums you like carefully thought-out 

recipes you like exact creations I like

spur-of-the-moment mistakes you like 

works of art and craftsmanship I like 

the rantings of a right mind

You like my work, I like yours too. 

 

 

on stillness

sit. stay. breath. 

seconds. pass. time is 

timeless

here. now.

being. 

let presence wrap itself

around you like the humdrum

of atoms that move to the

beat of your heart and every

breath.let your being be here and

now and 

one 

with your surroundings

like a child

immersed in the moment

this world is much greater than I am

it is a giant of senses that I can’t reach

so I look with awe

with wonder

at just the fragments that I catch

raindrops and glitter like

a moment of stillness that

clothes you in a steady breathing 

peaceful mind an

unthought

that knows truth

from a dreamscape

 

that argument

eat your words

they spin like poisoned fire at its target

take your half a second before a lecture and

take your bullying discipline your 

self-righteous crown your surround sound take

that tone of voice that flying metal take 

that slap on my face that punch that angry face spitting

insult take my fear and take me standing up for myself

take your everything take that

kick and I will stand

in your face and tell you 

what I think is right close enough

to see that anger stitched into your eyes

are you close enough to see that I don’t care?

take your ‘I don’t have any respect’ take your

right-winged wisdom take it all because

in six months time 

this world is mine.