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1.8k · May 2016
Internal Bleeding
Mona May 2016
Paramedic 1:

"He's losing so much blood."

Paramedic 2:

"It's a miracle if he can make it past this."



Saturday night, and I'm in the back of an ambulance,
But not in soul, just in body, oh and in the company of so many wires,
I can't tell where they end and where I begin,
But the paramedics say there was a tragic accident and some flying tires.

We reach the ER, my stretcher is flying on the white tiles,
And soon enough I'm greeted by more wires than I can count,
They're saying that they want to hear my heart,
So I'm opened up past layers of tissues and my heartbeat is playing aloud.

I'm somewhere in a circus, learning how to walk on a tightrope,
One arm on the verge of life, the other on the verge on death,
And my feet are stronger than they've ever been,
I'm not afraid of the fall, I'm afraid they'll see the mark I've had since birth.

And they do, I see it in the face of those people wearing white scrubs,
Their faces become the color of their operating room attire,
They don't know what to do with me,
As they come to realize what's got me here is not the flying tires.

They see my heart, a land that is home to no one,
Yet a massacre is taking place between the northerns and the southerns,
A border holding together the mismatched territories,
But there is no compromising between two armies this stubborn.

Each side wanting to flood the other, wanting to conquer,
And the small canal that was once an uncharted place of peace,
Is now holding a rowing contest to the mind of the victim - me -
Who will reach it first and incorporate their power with claws and teeth...?

It was the time to surrender, ending all attempts at making amends,
And watch cannibals sailing in rivers of blood,
They think each accelerated beat is a new victory,
Yet it was a far away cry from it, it was a new tear, a new cut.

And when each side invades the other, they claim it as their own,
But they are only emigrants thinking they can reconstruct a desert,
It was only a land of chaos, they themselves have caused,
Where was once life flowing in veins, is now where resources are tethered.

And with no winner, the end approached,
The curtains already sweeping the ground,
Doctors wiping sweat from their foreheads,
Letting the hospital gown cover the battleground.





Paramedic 2:

"Maybe there's a wife we can call, to you know ... deliver the news..."

Paramedic 1:

"It appears, he just went out for a drive in the middle of the night, with no phone or ID... not even his driver's license..."

Paramedic 2:

"Maybe it wasn't even his car..."



THE END
1.7k · Apr 2016
The Waitress
Mona Apr 2016
Life flows through the doors,
Dispersed by the ceiling fan,
A makeover for every patron,
The waitress serves a second chance.

Ex-husband but current parent,
Negotiating with a teenage daughter,
Two untouched lunch plates,
As the gap grows further and further.

Central focus being on a book cover,
Held by an E.R nurse still in her scrubs,
The waitress tries to decipher a meaning,
All while wiping leftovers from table tops.

The calender on the wall says Friday,
And in walks a sundress along with a button down,
Two steaks and a red rose,
Right up comes the waitress with a dinner to astound.

Beginnings and ends in motion,
The clock cues for the 40-something man,
In the far corner he sips his black coffee,
Forlorn eyes of a widow staring at a wedding band.

Wiping beads of sweat from her forehead,
Retying her hair into a secured knot,
Exhaustion slowly kicking in,
As she refills the coffee ***.

The college girl strolling in with her book bag,
Smiles with pity at her as she gives her order,
She thinks of how her minimum wage must look,
But her love for her job makes her smile never falter.

Days are something treasured,
Every hour, a different movie plays,
She collects all those stories,
With the tip left after the customer pays.
1.6k · Oct 2017
Dear Future Self
Mona Oct 2017
Dear future self,

On a scale of one to doormat,
How prune are you to accept?

And have you been proven wrong,
Or is it still the worst you expect?

Have you learnt walking the line
Between pessimism and optimism,
Or have you lost your wits?

Have you made yourself lasagna,
Kept track of your ***** laundry?

Eating enough green,
Or still lazy to get up when you're hungry..

Is time as life altering as it sounds,
Or plain old yesterdays that represent nothing?

Have you bribed your lucky stars,
And found that perfect timing all of a sudden?

Are you even still writing,
Or left the platform for greater poets?

Still doing things half-heartedly,
Or finally filled the gap where the lines are dotted.

Have you witnessed a miracle?
Washed yourself of your ever present dissatisfaction?

Acquainted the many selves that you are,
And finally released your thoughts from their abstraction?

I know there's no finish line,
Or at least we won't be here to behold it.

But I hope you're far ahead,
So you can slow down a bit.
1.3k · Sep 2017
A Dreamer's Lullaby
Mona Sep 2017
Shall I dwell in a blob of paint

Something so fickle...

With flailing arms I'll try to swim

in something so little...

Colored and indigenous 

My thoughts will trickle...

And in this petty vividness 

My eyes shall twinkle...

Till I create a river so infinite

So I never again feel belittled...*

●●●
April 2016
1.2k · Jan 2017
Ophelia
Mona Jan 2017
The water has a sound,
I've only heard
when I was by myself.
It tells a secret
The way the circles
Form and swirl.

Just for a moment,
I never knew you.

And never tasted
Disappointment all too soon.

These vast acres,
Remind me of days,
When it was just me.
The sprinklers
Would cry 
And I would run free.

Just for a moment,
The weight elevated.

And matters of life 
and death were left to fate.

But the sun lied to me,
When I looked at the surface,
I only saw the break of day.
I kept searching and searching
But I never did
Find my face.

Just for a moment,
I was never here.

The earth revolved easier,
The sky had less tears.

Only that tree
Shall mourn my loss
When I echo off of the rope.
The moon can take 
Where I left off,
As my heart shall soak.

Just for a moment,
You won't think of me.

From this soundless world,
I wish you can find peace,
Under the same tree.*

● ● ●
2/17/2016
1.2k · Jan 2017
Tiptoe
Mona Jan 2017
All the angels are asleep,
Their shadow selves on the earth open their third eyes,
In the hypnotizing light of the moon,
You must learn to tiptoe between carefully crafted lies.

And in the scarce everglow
Of informality, we sail past a once safe territory,
Trying to impose a new way of survival,
Guided by a thin rope of our frail telepathy.

On islands doomed with demons' names,
We maneuver our demeanors on the peripheries of black holes,
One slip of a condemned tongue,
Is all it shall take to elicit an inevitable fall.

Don't fall for the horizon in view,
And never concede to promises made by Time,
The angels could never wake,
And then you'd forever tiptoe in this infernal night.*

•●•
1.1k · Mar 2017
Ocean Atlas
Mona Mar 2017
Through the sutures of my cerebral bones,
A non-human language of thought transcends,
Below the surface, in the depth of rationality,
All I feel is that rattle of waves, out there making amends.

Coral reefs grow along my arms,
I'm just as alive as you are,
Even a bit more,
as worlds collide and mornings glisten on my skin,
Every night the ocean sits on my shoulders
like a veil,
I dream of ways to chant my gratitude
on a mandolin.

A meaningless breath that blurs my porcelain eyes,
I see exhaled by the time travelers
that pollute the land,
A network of interconnected labyrinths extends,
I watch from afar, never to contribute
one grain of sand.

Sheltered from the extremities that lay beyond every rainbow,
I think in lively blues and shades of green,
Serenaded everyday by my ever-present peace of mind,
The taint of them land-walkers on my heart is forever unseen.
9/6/2016
“Ocean Atlas,” is the lastest underwater sculpture by artist Jason deCaires Taylor. Towering 18 feet tall and weighing in at more than 60 tons, Ocean Atlas is reportedly the largest sculpture ever deployed underwater. The artwork depicts a local Bahamian girl carrying the weight of the ocean above her in reference to the Ancient Greek myth of Atlas, the primordial Titan who held up the celestial spheres.
1.1k · Apr 2016
"I'm Not An Innovator"
Mona Apr 2016
Faces are recreated on a piece of paper,
Words copied from my mind and saved for later.

Cause the windows of my mind are my eyes,
And the view is not something I've improvised.

I'm just enjoying being a passenger with such potential,
Getting inspired by the events even if not sequential.

And in turn art is a part of me, woven so beautifully,
That I use the colors of Twilight, waves and trees.

I'm trying to savor the universe so that it never runs out,
I've turned its essence into more shades of pastels than I can count.

I've written its stories in the memories of timeless books,
So diverse and enchanting, some I never understood.

I'm in love everyday, but I'm also forlorn too,
I cry my sorrows to the sun as it dives into the blue.

I'm so small, I'm so inferior to the creator,
But as long as I'm alive, everyday I'm an innovator.
1.1k · May 2017
Second Skin
Mona May 2017
I feel like there's a second layer
forming under my skin,
From all the words unsaid,
I bet you'd drown if I let you in.

You're tired, you say,
You don't want to learn how to swim,
So you're skimming over dead cells,
Meanings that have turned into antonyms.

Day after day the superficial layer
It's getting thinner,
What you were once acquainted with
are now the cells of a stranger.

'Cause suddenly they're all seeping
into my blood stream,
Words like bricks that form a barrier,
Talking from behind a filter screen.

I'm only sorry for one thing,
That is my pale secrets greeting the sunlight,
Till I found them in your shadows,
And you got used to silence overnight.

I wish I could lend you my skin for a day,
Like an open letter for you to read,
But I fear one word said too much,
Would make a frail vein bleed.

Now you don't recognize my hand anymore,
So I don't need yours then,
Lying to you has already become
Very much like a second skin.
1.0k · Mar 2017
The Worst Poet Alive
Mona Mar 2017
I am the greatest poet alive.

In my body, I am the greatest poet alive,
In my continent, I am the greatest poet alive-
Yesterday, I was…

Today, I am the worst poet alive,
Because I know that yesterday
I was at the peak of my poetic diffusion,
Inspiration stayed the night,
and greatness happened to have occurred,
So yesterday, I was the greatest poet alive,
in my population-of-one continent.

Today I'm just a jealous bitter soul,
Cause I know I wasn't good enough
for inspiration to stay,
Today I know that inspiration fears commitment,
I resembled everything appalling,
I was desperate and needy,
So inspiration left me for another poet
without a second glance.

Because inspiration doesn't want to be
chained down to the grounds of monotony,
A room with four walls is all I could offer,
And it needs a castle where it can trespass
to the wilderness of the sky any time,
It needs the freedom where it can soar
above and look down
in fascination at the array of poets
that it has touched their minds and hearts,
Because that's when inspiration feels alive,
When it can see the power that it has diffused
into their -now- luminescent hearts,
A picture depicting a sky adorned with stars,
An earth adorned by poets that never sleep.

Today, I'm heartbroken because I know inspiration will never be 'mine'.*

It will continue to break hearts, then come back,
And I know that I will continue to accept its apologizes,
Even if they weren't uttered,
I will make one up inspired on spur of the moment,
Because without it I'm nothing but the worst poet alive,
In my body, in my population-of-one continent.

And when the days click and the words rhyme,
The world isn't always forgiving of the greatest poet alive in my population-of-one continent,
Because my poems are me,
And I know that I'm flawed,
I have bad hair days, my nose isn't pretty,
sometimes there are bags under my eyes, and I'm not always the nicest person,
Sometimes my appearance is disheveled,
Just like my poetry,
Then some days I spend the extra ten minutes in front of the mirror,
I care for the details,
And some days people actually like my words,
those are the good days.

And today, I am the worst poet alive,
Because I don't have hope,
Inspiration didn't leave me a note before it left,
It didn't give call me and said I'll be back in a few days,
So today I'm the worst poet alive in my book.

I've cleaned my mind though,
And threw away all the disposal pins
where I burst the bubbles of words that sound ridiculous,
I also folded away all the negative feedback
that my cerebral cinques have given me,
Hopefully inspiration might want to visit the greatest poet alive … tomorrow?
You can call it a rant. But it was actually an attempt at a Slam poem. I wrote it at a time when I wasn't inspired at all, I hadn't even written in months. So it meant something at the time.
1.0k · Feb 2017
A Stolen Breath
Mona Feb 2017
While the sun melts in daughter shades of marble,
My feet daring to touch the very bottom of this enveloping blue,
And the day howls alive with its elements clean,
Curtains of sand are spilling their secrets anew.

Skipping stones, what remained were the same hands,
The same lifelines illuminated in rivers of green,
A memory carried under the weight of two eyelids,
An unkempt heart stealing a breath of where it's been.

So when the brilliance of emerald fades in flakes of brutal gray,
An untouched moment of serenity will somehow stay.*

● ● ●
978 · Mar 2017
At War With Peace
Mona Mar 2017
Tonight, as I flip through the world in the fog of the sky,
My brother's coughing beside me, rolling onto his right side,
We're pulling the bald landscape over our bodies of dust, 
We won't be dreaming of fairytales, just of a home to trust.

We drank too many tides, the sea is spilling over our bodies,
One day when our hearts explode, our names'll rhyme with casualties,
Along the tribes we race, at a young age hard we learnt,
That the longer we wait, the more of our memories will be burnt.

It's in black and white, the digital world they're fussing about,
We're in one cell of this universe that seeps no sound,
The clatter from the battleground rivals our ringing ears,
My dead mama said, boys were born to laugh at fear.

Through mirrors of smoke, I think I see distant planets shine,
I write to God everyday, can you patch the holes of mine?
At a tie in this war of peace, they bow down to the lion in the cage,
It'll only ever be a means to end, even our corpses will be estranged.

They only ever see eye to eye and claws to fangs,
Under clouds of fire, me and my brother will dance.
6/4/2016
933 · Apr 2016
The Violet Constellation
Mona Apr 2016
With her crumbled handkerchief,
She wiped the stars falling from her red eyes,
She bled her secrets to the galaxy thief,
Till the arrhythmia was reduced to defeated sighs.

Her violet joints matched the constellation,
With a violent pulse flickering in and out of life,
Her twilight breaths of condensation,
Till the planets are asleep, the only thing awake is the night.

When she's done orbiting around his fists,
And he's done burning her with his meteors,
She collects the hays of what is left,
Praying that galaxies could have a shore.
915 · Apr 2016
Black And White
Mona Apr 2016
I would rather you be
A contrast to my pale expectations,
Than to merge into
The lowest pit of my imagination.

I would rather for it
To be the absolute worst day,
For I only like things to fit
Into the right plates on my tray.

Destroy everything I thought was right,
It'll be the most beautiful destruction I've ever seen,
Open all the jars and throw away the lids,
Teach me how to love the scariest places I've ever been.

Cause I'd rather be proven wrong,
Than continue this stale truth,
My mind needs a reevaluation,
Before it sweeps away my drying youth.

And in a different track,
Runs this parallel train,
Vision focused on the rails,
To acknowledge a hello refrained.
821 · Jan 2017
Yesterday's Tomorrow
Mona Jan 2017
And here we are in yesterday's tomorrow,
Meeting the runway with our brows furrowed.

The crumbled clothes we ironed for a long night's sleep,
And the out of tune vibrations we sang with our knees.

We drenched the sheets with inflammable imagination,
And the early aroma of the sun set fire to our expectations.

So here we are in yesterday's tomorrow,
With the near future's dreams to borrow.

We bring out the suits that the fire didn't ruin,
Because nine o'clock always comes way too soon.

And soon enough the clicking sound of our shoes on the pavements,
Will leave no further room in our mind for that fantasy fragrance.

Welcome to yesterday's tomorrow, yes the timing is impaired,
Empty both your hands, never come to this day prepared.

● ● ●
816 · Feb 2017
One Eye Open At Night
Mona Feb 2017
A tap dance, on the borderline of the inevitable,
Hoping for a new kind of mutation to break the spell,
Speaking in a foreign tongue with controversial thoughts,
Maybe if I give in to the free fall, the pattern will fall as well.

The world is cursed with a slumber that drinks their souls,
And eats at their instincts of right and wrong,
Apparitions clutching customs they've made in the dead of night,
Oh but it's bright morning in their native tongues.

Clinking glasses with liquids more volatile than their brains,
I'm at the same table trying to dodge their dripping DNA,
Nodding my head when they say sanity is south of dreaming,
And agreeing to make an appointment with the future on Monday.

Somehow I'm in pause, tripping into a glitch in time,
Where am I? Staring at a tailored form of acceptance,
It's ice cold, stale colors, mildly pleasant curt nods,
I gasp for blackness, just anything with which I can make sense.

Maybe if I stare so hard at the ceiling I could see the sky,
And if I daydream too much I could hold the upper hand,
I close my eyes, I leave the railing, and I do give in,
But too early they're open again,
and things are no longer under my command.
"I find it kinda funny, and I find it kinda sad.
The dreams in which I'm dying, are the best I've ever had." - Tears For Fears
806 · May 2017
Polarity
Mona May 2017
You wear your suit of compassion,
Synthetic silk and ironed scarf,
Maintaining your levels of sentiment,
But your mind is having the last laugh.

Your eyes are warm, so are your hands,
It all comes from your burning heart,
Catabolizing your toxic notions,
But you hide your ***** sheets in the dark.

I shall always be two levels down,
You compare and tell me to compromise,
Your life is a chaos of catastrophes,
So compared to that mine is a bonfire.

Till when..
do we have to exchange modified secrets,
Where I downplay and you intensify,
So we always remain two poles apart,
What's holding us together is our lies.
● ● ●
752 · Jan 2017
Calling For All The Stars
Mona Jan 2017
Lately, all the days have been turning into Mondays,
A job for the sun and a career for the moon,
A pencil sketched world with only shades of gray,
Stuck in sharp angles with no curves any soon.

Now Night is a Canson paper
Static with no signs of life

No room for poetry
nor the power of imagination

It's only a time for hours of sleep,
Eight to be precise

Behind the curtains
Dreams wait for an invitation

So I'm calling for all the stars to come nurse this disaster,
To bring back nights when staring out the window was enough,
I'm calling for them to patch all the hearts that ruptured,
To free those practical minds out of their handcuffs.
742 · Jan 2017
You Never Know Loss
Mona Jan 2017
You never truly know loss,
Or how much tragedy weighs,
How it makes feel like you're under water,
And to breathe, your lungs just won't obey.

You were so small, so hidden in the universe,
And suddenly your existence is so massive,
You never know until you're hit,
That the force of it all makes you come crashing.

And every scattered piece is calling for the other,
And everyone is insistingly trying to help,
But the water level rises to your ears,
And every sound that comes close is always repelled.

You never truly know loss,
How it spreads like cancer inside your being,
You never know until you're a core of something that used to be,
And there's nothing more of you worth seeing.

You never know...
All those second hand tears never prepare you,
For when your lungs are filled with water,
And it feels like there's no sun to look up to.
741 · Jan 2017
A Violet Sunset
Mona Jan 2017
Hold my hand,
As sandcastles become mansions,
A world never heard of before.

A violet sunset,
Painted just how I like,
A new opportunity knocks on my door.

And everyday,
A new arrangement of notes,
flutters with both our waking eyes.

Ready to give and receive,
everything today brings,
Inspired by the intermingling shades of the sky.

And when we meet
the end of the spectrum,
we shall run off to our midnight dreams.

Eager to spill the parts
of the night that hound us,
and our need to jump into the tones in between.

Be there,
For when my spine bows,
To everything aiming directing at me.

And in the end,
The sun will set,
The world will take us where we're meant to be.

Just know,
That I enjoyed walking
Down the white and black keys offered

with you..

And when the lights come on,
The city illuminated
like two hearts connected to one another

I'll remember you.*

•●•
738 · Sep 2015
Humanity Switch
Mona Sep 2015
On the edge of the balcony,
The world teaches my head to rotate,
My spine surrenders its balance,
My hopeless body waits.

Fed up with human-crafted idealism,
Along with all human functions,
I bottle up all emotions,
And set this dim night to action.

The volt is raised,
The time, a haze,
The night, a home,
The cold, so warm.

The picture is now ruined,
Each shred its own standalone story,
All I feel is coursing adrenaline,
As I dig a deep hole to bury all my glory.

Standing in line with hollow light bulbs,
I wait like an addict for the dose,
Every last memory not convincing enough,
As the switch is finally being closed.

The volt is raised,
The time, a haze,
The night, a home,
The cold, so warm

And the metaphor become reality,
As I become addicted to the echoes,
The world shut out like an outage,
So the only thing alive is my voice.

Speed limits, all but a dream,
No remorse nor guilt to hit the breaks,
I'm alone with no ties,
Don't believe in friends or family's sakes.

I find more and more like me,
Vanity and selfishness put in a mixer,
Dim mutant stars living an eternity,
With only thirsty desires to be watered.

Birth date and place, the advocate night,
It spreads its arms till we prevail,
Humanity switch is now a temptation,
To more animals with 4 limbs and tails.

Now that scene on the balcony,
Such a long walk from there,
Comparing that volcano,
To this new software.

I am now a blank canvas,
With no pressure to spill colors,
I just exist to be,
Haven't got a nerve to suffer.

I see them pure people in my memories,
Now drinking the virulent night,
Two worlds being carbon-copied,
Death suits being worn alive.

The smoke colors the universe,
A place no longer suitable for life,
Who would abide to the rules?
When we've all lost humanity signs.

Hearts, now glazed,
Time, no longer a grace,
The cold, a curse,
A search for another earth.
704 · Jan 2017
A State of Trance
Mona Jan 2017
Morning brewed in cups of sunshine,
I only hear the jingles of planets,
The door to the galaxy swinging open,
Between the past and future is just a moment,
Some tried to chase the exact feeling,
Some tried to trap inspiration in their pockets,
But the ladder always falls, every time,
You can only wait for next year's rain to nourish your sonnets.

Midnight marked my rendezvous with this trance,
The midnight of the bustle produced by the world,
Picked up from the tree of people, somehow chosen,
I bask in a greater silence where only my mind can be heard,
Elevated between clouds so gracefully,
The paper getting dressed to the nines with every word,
I'd prefer it if time stopped hounding me,
And if the bicker of responsibilies would stop my trance from getting stirred.*

●  ●  ●
696 · Mar 2022
Disfigured
Mona Mar 2022
I'm a square trying to fit inside a circle
All my sides are bruised,
My story is now a rip off,
Cause my original one didn't fit the mold's strangle.

I remember when I was just a small circle,
Falling through vessels,
Gushed at by my inner circle,
When I adapted with the world I grew right angles.

Back to square one, I iced all my bruises,
When one almost healed,
I Found my old self,
today's leftovers, and me in a love triangle.
691 · Jun 2016
The Verb to Fade
Mona Jun 2016
The actors shuffled around the stage,
In a hurry to deodorize themselves of what they were,
New words are getting recreated,
The vapor of the past moment taints the air.

It takes a neck at a right angle,
And a smile at a linear relationship curving upwards,
The machine spilling new pages,
Receiver ends watching standards getting ruptured.

Now you have to pay a ticket, a cost,
To live through a screen, framed by your acting skills,
Because what once started as a perfect match,
Now is only worth a motion picture's thrill.

The patterns that once ran parallel to one another,
Intersected along the way, now sitting perpendicular,
Running low on impulse amusement,
Backstage, the two actors were nobody in particular.

● ● ●
690 · Jul 2017
An Unopened Present
Mona Jul 2017
My side of the Earth is wrapped in
cellophane,
Wherever I walk the ground
Scrunches,
Mornings feel like the first pages of
different books,
A foreign blink to a familiar eye.

Sometimes I feel no pressure
to unpack the stars,
Laying on my back in a room
with no wires,
Though sometimes I'd plug the moon,
and watch how it scares away
the ghosts,
Their silhouettes marching
on the walls,
Or maybe that's me running from
my thoughts.

The ground feels like it's squeezing
my toes,
Burying the soles of my feet
in the sand,
I hang the sea on the far horizon,
Just to have something to pull me
ahead.

In my two-bedroom cardboard reality,
My mistakes are never quiet,
Going through the tracts
I've burrowed in my existence,
I can't find the hinges that hold my world together,
Or the patterns that could help me try.

Why does the water taste like
it's from a different planet?
Maybe it's just me,
Afraid to get too comfortable,
With a present seemingly
not mine,
A sketch I started drawing,
But felt like I lacked the talent
to finish.
686 · Jan 2017
For Once
Mona Jan 2017
Darling, if only for once,
Let me breathe into your fog,
Clear it with my forearm,
Make a poem out of your wrongs.

For once, let me meet your am's, 
The earthquakes of your dreams,
I'll lean my head on your shoulder,
And let our demons come clean.

Invite me into the forest of your thoughts,
We'll find on oak tree to hide behind,
Confess how you want to run,
Before the sun of sanity sets in your mind.

If only for once, exclude me of your rules,
Let me read all your unspoken's,
I promise to be the granules of sand,
That mend your glass house when it's broken.

And when you open your gates,
I'll remember to fetch a pencil with me,
To sketch yourself in my eyes,
And hang on every wall the image I see.

Time with you has made me learn,
Never to ask for much,
So with no hope nor expectations,
I ask you to let me in for once.*

● ● ●
4/3/2016
654 · Apr 2016
Toothpaste Brand
Mona Apr 2016
It was quote,
Drenched in hope,
A shot in the dark,
Aiming to hang sorrow
From the balconies
With a thin rope.

And when the suits,
With polished shoes,
Came to rain glitter
On the blood stained carpets
In the carnival
With their ties loose.

They'd cut the band,
Then shake hands,
The world only interested
In their practiced smile,
And their toothpaste brand.

Then the screens are black,
Faces turn their backs,
Kids eating the confetti
Like a plate of meat,
Little did they know
The real food is in the banks.

And we repeat the quote,
Believe in peace and hope,
What's a little blood
If your kid hurt mine,
I'll punch him in the nose.

And we pay tickets to cry,
To watch fictional characters die,
If we're such fans of tragedies,
Why don't we watch the world,
Or what's left of it,
Every child's request denied.

A place with a broken spine,
A receding lifeline,
A bare primitive earth
Shepherds with cell phones,
Their sheep almost extinct,
While they play Piano Tiles.
624 · Nov 2014
Doppelganger Date
Mona Nov 2014
Fluorescent lights showering the room,
As two pea-like eyes started to bloom.
Amazement in the irises of the newly born,
Novelty in the skin she has newly worn.

It's the same date but the moment has changed,
The eerie newness by usual comfort is replaced.
The mind is fighting, racing ahead of time,
Beauty and grace in her features intertwine.

The small mass of flesh in the back of her head,
Her feet moving to a new unknown ahead,
The shade of her complexion remaining the same,
No wind nor breeze touching her undying flame.
622 · Jan 2017
Two Streets Away
Mona Jan 2017
Two streets away
I imagine myself walking
Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes

Waking up with the world
As its beauty is still pale
Not yet mixed with the car exhausts

Two streets away
Is the silver wavy water
As it tries to imitate the sky

Bike wheels floating above the roads
Runners racing the sun
Music spilling from that one headphone.

Two streets away
I imagine my blouse fighting the morning breeze
The benches filled with the flowers' happy tears

The streets hinting of awakening,
As the shy face of the peeking sun
Warms the hidden chilliness 

Simplicity is the key
Without man's rough hands
Everything is just being itself

***** feet,
Asleep on yesterday's damage
Not yet awake to indulge in more*

● ● ●
September 2014
590 · Jan 2017
Boundaries
Mona Jan 2017
Are people separated
by bodies?
Boundaries where one person
should end,
That's like saying
this square inch of the sky,
Is where my line of sight
shall extend.

How can I ask you
not to spill
Parts of your thoughts
into my mind,
Can I open the faucet
at the end of the day,
And the warm water will clean
the blues left behind..

Do the muscles of a heart
carry the weight of one?
Separating the troubles
in terms of origin,
Those I'll feel less,
those I'll feel more,
And today no one
shall make it past the doormen..!

I don't think we could
dissect,
The parts of us that intrude
past the physical lines,
Or close the shutters
to a strong wind,
In an aim to keep our
happy currents confined.

Where does one person
end?
How can people turn their backs
when the sky gets dark,
I'm balancing too many
fragments of people,
And the world is dispersed,
I don't know how far I can walk.*

•●•
573 · Jun 2017
Plug The Stars Out
Mona Jun 2017
Divide the moon into two halves,
You'll find inside a million lamps,
Also cut the heart into two halves,
You'll find inside blood and valves.

Romance is trapped in a Shakespearean novel,
He buried it under the centuries with his shovel,
And the modern fast pace modified the human brain,
It's only a repetitive pattern of falling in vain.

Juliet has a husband, he's older by twenty years,
He's never home, she's always out shopping new fears,
Romeo is jobless, searching ups and downs for a key,
He heard life starts in the aftermath of a dream.

The old witch sitting in front of a glass bowl,
Now broke and retired, all her cookbooks are sold,
And the wolves are out, ruling the woods,
Magic's density in the air, isn't as high as it should.

So plug the stars out, pluck all the electric flowers,
The universe is now running low on power.*


● ● ●
November 2014
572 · Apr 2016
Mathematical Evening
Mona Apr 2016
If I count all the reasons why I should be angry this evening
All the reasons why I should be sad
Every reason why I should be devastated
Disappointed, forlorn and infinitely mad

If I count all those reasons

My evening will stretch and border me in
It'll make tragic synapses with the night
My time will be smothered with numbers
Mathematics will hold me back from a beautiful twilight

I shouldn't count those reasons

... I should just leave them to be
Like every other bottled up emotion
Maybe I won't be able to close the lid
Maybe the pressure will cause an explosion

But maybe... 

Maybe I'll focus on the classical music
Emerging from the next door apartment
It'll take me somewhere, a nicesomewhere
And the pen will involuntarily find the parchment

The mathematical evening will turn into a poetic one
One thankful for music, beauty and art
For those treasured moments in my memory lane
With their fair emotions that colored my heart

Maybe the future will turn into a canvas
And the night a finally finished masterpiece
The white walls a space to think and develop
And tomorrow a new thought to believe

I've always hated mathematics

The way everything was narrowed down
To only two shades of life, black and white
I rather loved my rich box of pastels
Where every moment has its shade of right

And by the end of the evening

I came to a tie

Two piles of reasons
Piles that mathematics created
And I know today is a choice
So I'd rather choose the lighter weight 

●●●
570 · May 2017
So be it..
Mona May 2017
It's okay,
It's alright,
You have yourself,
Just like you do
every night.

You're at your worst?
Well so be it...
They didn't see
that your hearts unfit?
Then
so
be
it.

You hold that heart,
and you tuck yourself,
Command your breaths
To fall into context,
The world will be there tomorrow,
And the day will fall
fom your hardened grip,
The landslide will come to curve,
The drought will leave
no tears to shed.

Even if you have to be the ocean,
The sun, the moon and the land,
To walk yourself to the last shore,
You've got yourself to understand.

You can be that push of courage,
You can be the one to soothe,
Nothing in this world matters,
Not even this heavy weight of blues.
You wanna bet?

You're at your worst?
Then so be it..
Goodnight.
561 · May 2016
Flight Delayed
Mona May 2016
The timer on the bomb, 
the digits strutting to the outer parts of the atmosphere.
Crippled balance,
tangential distractions abstracting the parallel walk, the way they interfere.

The ache right below a sharp collar bone, 
Mistaken for the invisibility it's shying behind.
The small shadow in the afternoon sun,
And the absence of stir in the dumpsters of local satellites.

The way the small hellos obscure
the newborn volcanoes tossing venom on the riverside.
Telepathic interventions to the moon,
A friend indeed, when aspiration super-saturates the earth borderlines. 

So what if each arm desires to embrace both corners of the sky,
to publish each entry of the dreamy cerebral residents.
So what if I'm dying to learn of every curve of the universe,
and finally decide if I could finally land in a dimension of interest.
553 · Jan 2017
Grisaille
Mona Jan 2017
I take my straight lines and curve them for you,
Latching onto a tomorrow obscured from view,
'Cause as long as your empire towers over the days,
I'll mold to the ground to make this route one way.

My heart is matted for all your fist sized questions,
In a clean fashion, color coded answers are my defenses,
And my head twirls through volcanoes till it's desensitized,
A kind expression is all that your pleasantness comprises.

My memories are calenders unfurling with ink,
Cardboard supports my back for when the pages are flipped,
Hand gestures and one-word replies designed into loops,
So that the automatic reflexes start after a reboot.

Backgrounds have lost their intensities to a lone figure,
Every slip on a thin distraction calls for a trigger,
Stained-glass windows tell the story of a shadow in motion,
And the interior swears the remnants of a soul will never be awoken.

● ● ●
547 · Jan 2017
The Way It Is
Mona Jan 2017
Whistles from buses and cabs,
Drivers intimate with their fogs of smoke,
As the ashes of the cigarette
Meet the concrete defeated, devoid of hope.

Today is yesterday, tomorrow is last month,
A chain of promises and complaints,
Necks wearing the chain with devout compassion,
... the fire is smelling faint.

And in the loneliest hour, which is every hour to be exact,
We search for any wavering footprints,
Marching on an array of dead skulls,
To guide us to where the river is. 

We're catching breaths with heads hanging from windows,
But we can't breathe enough, can't grasp much,
So we hang them down ropes of the cheapest material,
Aiming for a free fall to where the silence stretches.

Everyday with red eyes staring holes at the ceiling,
The ringing in our ears comes to life as the devil,
Every night it has a poem of soothing words,
... they sooth every flame, till they turn to lifeless pebbles.

You are no one special

The days make a song out of it, it's just so catchy,
It's the tune played in every commercial,
It makes you believe we are nothing but the dirt we are,
Ideologies are illusions of an anger rebel.

It's every smile plastered on a heavily made up face on television,
The finger pointed in the "right" direction,
It's the words of illiterates that make it on trees' corpses,
It's the thought that gives your mind a detention.

The air is heavy on diseases and illnesses,
It's so saturated that it turned hearts yellow,
It made south north and north south,
It made billboards rules to follow.

I'm sick too, I'm sick of those same words
That I utter at the peak of my revolutionary asthma,
But when I'm good enough to breathe,
I bring acceptance out of my closet and iron it to finish this stanza.
543 · Apr 2016
Blur of Gold
Mona Apr 2016
Blur of Gold

Let the world blur
On the tips of her toes
She will spin and spin 
Till the darkness grows

Hands raised above her head
Shoulders disappear behind her hair
The loud music will mask
Her erratic gasps of air

Dispersed in opposite directions
Every rhythm is so new
In her temporary blindness
Every light is blue

A delirium airing live
Adrenaline looking down a cliff
The only voice is nothingness
Every muscle learns to forgive

Just like a gold coin
Tossed down suddenly
Intruding eyes are hypnotized
A blur of gold is all they see

As if just to teach a lesson
To put the black next to the white
Irises flicker with sullenness
Then dies a vivid light

Meters of cloth
Wasted on the sparkly ground
Paler than the spotlight
Departs the pulsing sound
529 · Jan 2017
Before
Mona Jan 2017
I don't plan to be luminescent,
I'd rather watch the moon from afar,
And I'd rather share the ocean's anger
when the waves are at war.

Perforated dreams -
skipped like stones, tease my sleep,
Every shimmer of disappointment
is a part of the night I keep.

With cloudy perspectives
that continue to fog my bones,
Every unnecessary attachment
speaking a narrative of its own.

I don't know what I am
under those roofless days,
Maps unfolded and doors ajar,
letting the present have a wordplay.

Life degraded to mint greys,
thankfulness and a few whys,
I'm just a bait for
the conspiring stars to further pry.

But atop a lonesome mountain
where dandelions bloom,
Spring promised to grant me a horizon
and wider room.

I found myself as further away
from the tides and the shores,
As a pen and a paper
that have never met before.*


● ● ●
527 · Apr 2016
If I Lived in The Pyramids
Mona Apr 2016
Thousands of years ago, when I was never on existence's mind,
Ancient Egyptians looked down upon the world,
Up upon the pyramids with only their glory in sight,
History racing to match their eminence word by word.

When angels of death knocked with finality on their doors,
They held their crowns intact, postures of gold never wavering,
To them, they were ascended to the divine floor,
With every last glass of wine they ever graced with their catering.

Magnificent cloaks on beds of eternal slumber,
Decaying hands mingling with decades of royalty's worth,
Thrones caged in tombs adorned with ruby and amber,
They carried their glorious empires even to death.

And if I were to be a Cleopatra, a Nefertiti, or a Hatshepsut, 
I'd demand to carve every word I'd ever written, on the walls of my afterlife,
For finery and jewelry proved to be only fool's gold,
But what once lied in my - now lifeless -skull shall keep me alive.
489 · May 2017
The Liquid of Life
Mona May 2017
Your need is a knife,
Sometimes a chainsaw.

It cuts at my shoulders,
The bones in my arms,
Some days it's quite greedy,
Wanting a share of my soul,
Dissecting a chamber or two
of my heart.

You eagerly want to drink my sanity,
To dehydrate me of any positivity,
Till life seeps through me and into you,
And osmosis makes us even,
Two distorted figures with no aim,
That's when you can sleep.

I'm afraid we can't both reside
in my fraying body,
You weigh a million unsaid words,
And my spine isn't strong enough
To keep pushing us through
your derailing paths.
489 · Feb 2017
Cold Conversations
Mona Feb 2017
The wind likes to make itself scarce,
To never touch the waves more than it needs,
And that's why it travels the world alone,
After it turns towns to ruins, it runs and claims itself freed.

And here we stay jumbled and rearranged,
Watching it as it takes more than it should,
Yet it never grasps the meaning of everything it's taken,
The days will roll as long as the map looks good.

It appears and disappears in mismatched mornings,
And we can never have enough time to be prepared,
For the coldness that petrifies, as it tries to make us believe
That this departure is only done for our sakes.

The wind only knows one perspective to wear,
And it gets washed and re-washed in the downpours we cry,
So it lays there like an after taste after it fades,
Its only ally is that its presence could easily be denied.

So in an ever present fall tumbling into a winter,
We never know when it will hit and what it will take,
So we lay on our backs and let it walk all over us,
We're done being hurt, our hearts shall be opaque.
480 · Apr 2016
Polarization
Mona Apr 2016
Inspiration doesn't like to be chased,
It likes to come at its own pace.

You'd run and run hoping the tunnel would end,
Too bad the light and dark can not be friends.

Oh but they can!

When you close your eyes,
That strike of thought that lights up your mind.

The ghosted words tripping in your darkness,
Till they fall and incorporate some light in the abyss,
... they can be friends.

Just like the positive and the negative attract,
They agree to disagree, they've made a pact,
They run parallel just in different tracks.

And sometimes both become allies,
In concentric circles meant to hypnotize.

But one will never be the other till the end of days,
Try to mix black and white you'll only get grey.

The world would wilt and all the rivers would dry,
One can't live if they other has died.

Though their intentions are oceans apart,
They tend to follow each other in that regard.
468 · May 2016
Optical Illusion
Mona May 2016
We often only relate to negativity,
The blackest of lines
matching our irises where light is an illusion.

Spilling the foreign parts of our souls,
Mixing them with the colors of every stranger's intrusion.

We're way too familiar with every wrinkle that our words posses,
We have a photographic memory for our flaws.

We only see the crumbled itinerary,
Where the moments of doubt come alive to sink their claws.

We can't wear amusement well,
Not when our minds have no reflexive reaction to ourselves.

So that one sentence, that one gesture,
That voices the darkest of thoughts in our tiniest of cells,

Is the one we relate to the most,
In a sea of living sunrises and sunsets,
We can't help but look back,
And stare at that resurfacing ghost.
448 · Apr 2017
Superstition
Mona Apr 2017
Fate is hiding behind that tree,
Hearing fragments of your dreams,
Drawing a map on the water,
Following you under the moonbeam.

Oh you think your hands are full,
Stardust collecting under your fingernails,
And right before you jump into the sky,
It turns around and bites your tail.

So your pulse tries to hush,
Your shiny eyes appear nonchalant,
As you count your jinx encounters
Where your luck seems to bend.

You're always sniffing behind the trees,
If you betrayed a sign of your excitment,
The image of a future will be burnt,
Fate replacing the star alignment.

So you patiently await the worst,
And plaster a smile to reciprocate
the one hidden in every starry night,
As nothing is as unpredictable as fate.
442 · Apr 2017
The 7 Pm Soap Opera
Mona Apr 2017
Blue lighting embracing the faded linen of the couch,
We grow flowers to keep life flowing through this house,
Because planets only collide when it's the end of the world,
And the clean tile floors know that peace can't be disturbed.

The last we amplified our voices on one another's frequency,
The year sparkly white lighting hung down from trees,
Naivete of youth counting down to the far unknown,
Missing the fact that it will then be identities to mourn.

And down with China plates we inherit this folklore,
Bolt your windows and hide from strangers at your door,
Cause opportunities are nightmares you should avoid,
You see, you're only a half waiting to be adjoined.

In search for a wall to cower under its shadow,
The sun is never kind to lone figures with no one to follow,
So it won't matter if you mend this vacancy with cement,
No one will see past the frame, wood doesn't comprehend.
422 · Apr 2017
Empty Vessel
Mona Apr 2017
I'm an empty vessel,
A reflection of you in me,
Clear the fog that's my mind,
Then it's your eyes you'll see.

I let the water pass through,
Erase the memories I once had,
So I can no longer taste nostalgia,
Only the salt and it makes me go mad.

I used to write and I used to read,
But now I'm an empty vessel,
I drink in the waves you surf,
and spit them in a sandcastle.

And quick to drown me is the sun,
Recruiting the days against me,
They string me along for weeks,
The longer the day, the less air to breathe.

I'm an empty vessel, so transparent,
I let the wall have a more powerful image,
Disappearing into the landscapes,
So my unwelcomed thoughts will be omitted.

It's your eyes you'll see,
Cause for god knows how long
I'm closing mine.
I shall dwell inside this empty vessel,
If you glimpse a sight of me
Just make make a sign.

413 · Aug 2018
Tomorrow Never Comes
Mona Aug 2018
We speak in future tense,
Dreaming of the land of cream,
Where pollution is white,
And we're employed to dream.

If tomorrow had shoulders,
The tendons would be adorned in tears,
From the weight of the expected,
The pushed back promises that are insincere.

We're asking tomorrow
To be the battle wound we've never had,
The battlefield overcome by green,
So we shut our eyes, and turn our backs.
403 · Jan 2017
To Become
Mona Jan 2017
What am I to become?
I held bottles
of promises,
And threw them
At the setting sun.

Watching golden irises,
Melting steel
With their intensity,
But hands refuse
To acknowledge them
As if they were viruses.

What am I to become?
When every yesterday
Is tucked under
An avoided tomorrow,
In a book finished by none.

What am I to do?
When it's three
In the afternoon
But the sky is midnight
Black further distorting
The sullenness of blue.

All the first class passengers,
Safely heading
To their clean slates
In Mars where
It's free from damages.

What am I to become?
A fraction of empathy,
A fraction of passivity,
Intermingling
In one tongue.

What am I to become?
An upgrade?
Where streets collapse,
My roof is still intact
My weather still calm.

So is it hope,
Or absolute dread,
That's setting
The first step
In this unfurling road.
I was listening to a song called Saturn by Sleeping At Last while writing this. I think it's in contrast to everything I just wrote. But give it a listen.
394 · Apr 2017
Ignorance is a bli-
Mona Apr 2017
Some saw the stars,
Their foreheads napping on the wall -
The great divide -
Where ignorance stands tall,
A sight unseen,
Is the world on every other side,
Where the dust molecules
Accumulated where life has dried.

In an artifical lake,
They thought they crossed oceans,
Blue skies reflected on puddles,
Static movement mistaken for locomotion,
While tides of sewage water,
Swallowed all the greener pastures,
Famines eating at bodies,
Growing up into a natural disaster.

Some flipped the same page,
Their universe knew of nothing past the sun,
Orbiting around themselves,
Isn't that how the big bang begun?
The less they fed their minds,
The rarer it ever asked for more,
When you've been living in a white dream,
It's hard to believe the existence of black doors.

We're in the same solar system,
But their bodies are alienated,
With muffs on their ears,
To keep out the winter their hands created,
But as our fears turn into expectations,
They'll be able to hold them then,
Reality crashing on our roofs,
The wall won't be heard of again.
383 · Mar 2017
Matter Over Mind
Mona Mar 2017
Perched between two islands, I stand
Praying the world will trip over my hand

The soot emerging from one side gave a speech,
Earth is towed around the sun with a thin leash,
So we bite at it like aliens trying to preach,
As if we're better off alone, so we'll take a part each.

Ignorance hollered from the other side,
Man can dissect his body and breathe his pride,
New laws of the universe are getting employed,
One more step from cannibalism getting justified.

And we believe the man with the white teeth,
The water is muddied, their minds must have leaked,
They make plans to pull the ocean from beneath me,
So I hold my breath, and pray for one last tree.

But as they run along the map they don't coincide,
Mace and verain, one hand was black, the other was white,
The plans they made to cut in half change to just one bite,
And the loser is the one who uses the letters of Unite.

Now the water is full of dynamite and grenades,
A thought that started with a heart ended with a *****,
Knives hovering above the dying grass in wait,
Only one ***** mouth shall eat the whole cake.

And perched between two islands, I stand,
Watching clawing sharks marring the map.

A filthy legacy passed to the ones yet to come,
Though the sphere they're juggling is long long gone,
With stale rivers, grey skies and bribed suns,
What is it we're fighting for? A world fit for no one.
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