The alarm poisons my ears
the cold shower tortures my body
the coffee burns my tongue
the newspaper shatters my mind
my boss steals my crown
my co-workers play blind

My keys plays an awful jingle
as I try unlocking the woody door
door swings open, my jaw meets the floor

Your eyes greet mine
everything's fine
I hug you tight
over your shoulder, my dull room
looks all the more bright

Be it the sidewalk of New York
Penthouse of Rome
only you my dear make me feel
like I'm coming home

a green whisper  
                    curled on the curb,  
                  still as a breath held too long.  
                 its wing, half-open,  
               pointed nowhere—  
              or maybe back,  
             to some place it could  
            never reach.  
           rome moved around it,  
          unbothered.  
         motors loudly passed,  
        the occasional siren.
       indifferent sonatas,  
      and the fountains laughed  
     cold, eternal laughter.  
     i stopped,  
    but the city didn’t.  
    its feathers were soft once.  
   i could see that—  
  even streaked with dust,  
  they shimmered  
like something meant to survive.  
parakeets don’t belong here,  
they say.  
escaped,  
invasive,  
out of place.  
but it had tried.  
god, it had tried.  
  i walked the rest of the way home,  
   carrying it with me,  
    the weight of its silence  
     pressed against my chest.  
      and when i closed the door  
       behind me,  
         the tears came fast—  
           for a bird i’d never known,  
             for a life that couldn’t stay,  
                for the quiet way  
                    i, too, fell out of the sky.

I pretend love songs are about me

I'm done falling in love with men, it's time for me to fall in love with God

He's been in love with me all this time. Wanting only my heart

Not at home. Not there,

nor here. At night I shout it --


over the rooftops.

a clay coloured mug
with the dregs
of now-cold coffee
swirling with bits
accumulated dust
and a fallen fly
left on the side
it needs to be washed
but will be ignored
time and again
each time i pass by
because of how
it is stained;
not by the rings
lining it's inner surface
from top to bottom
with striations of brown
but because of
the lipstick smudge
on its outer edge
a sign of her presence
of all the memories
that a smear of red
can conjure
and a reminder
that she will
be home soon

A family is not only all about:
Vacations . affectionate gestures . luxuries . reputation
But in simple terms, it is all about:
Some quality time . Eating meals together . Sharing each others concerns .
A home of emotions, unity and togetherness.

A poem and tribute to my Nana Lilly Murdoch Sokimi. After nearly six years, we’ve fulfilled her wish, laying her ashes to rest on her island home, a place I knew only through her stories but have now walked myself #kuria #kiribati

💕
For you my beloved Nana you are cherished ❤️🌴

I miss you so much, but my heart knows you’re at peace and no longer at fuss

You’re laid to rest on Kuria, the island you love. Home with your beloved ones, safe in the stars above.

I miss you nana but I know you’re home

I sit on the beach, the sand warms beneath me. Your tales of old times dance in the waves of the sea

I miss you nana but I know you’re home

I wish you were here, right by my side,
But I feel you watching, with love as my guide.

I miss you nana but I know you’re home

Riding on the back of a motorbike, wind in my face, I see you in the land, in every sacred place.

I miss you nana but I know you’re home

The coconut trees sway gently, I’ll never forget whispering your tales you told me as a child oh how I fret.

I miss you nana but I know you’re home

I walk on the beach where the sand holds your steps and I hear your laughter, your glories in depths.

I miss you Nana but I know you are here
Kuria, your home, your land holds you now, in its warm, endless way.

In the heart of this island, where families join you by your side and love will never fade away .

You are home, my dearest Nana, you are home, my heart aches to say, forever here and my heart you will always stay.

From Fiji to Kuria we have reached the shores, May you Rest in eternal peace my dearest Nana on this sacred island of yours.

My life is falling apart and I'm speaking to dead people. He's telling me there's peace and that he's happy.
I kinda felt his peace and happiness.
My connection to him escapes me though, is he speaking to me or am I speaking to myself.
I think I want peace and happiness and to know why the happiest boy I knew killed himself.

Old men sit
in plastic pink lawn chairs,
smoking cigarettes
halfway down our street.

Counting the cop cars that drive by,
One. Two. Three.

They laugh
with heads thrown back
and missing teeth

at little boys who
roll and play in shopping carts,
crashing-
One, Two, Three!

Little boys lay
in the space between
grey gravel road
and thirsty green grasses.

They laugh
with heads thrown back
and tiny white teeth.