Similar a Saturno, cuando se comió a sus hijos para no perder su palacio.

Hay una chica tan aterradora, hermosa y divertida que vive en mi mente.

Ella es suave como las flores, y áspera como un arbusto de espinas afiladas. Pero aún así, tan hermosa como una rosa.

Se llama Maga.

Y por alguna razón, ella todavía se ocupa de mi mierda.

Sometimes I find myself
in our bitter sweet memories.
They sting with every smile.
Just like Bees ,
Sting for their defnse.
I am protected ,
From going back.
Back to you ,
Back to crying uncontrollably
Back to being unworthy.
Back to being nothing .

They said it's Quarantine time,
I say it's your time to be seen.
You can't move until the storm calms,
Search your inside for that charm.
It's time to work on your dreams,
When you hear your soul scream.
It's the silence before the storm,
Don't be that earthworm.
It has begun the survival of the best,
Keep everything in your chest.
Show the world what you got,
Blow the world with that knock.
Bring out the zest,
Wearing your kevlar vest.

Girls constructing blocks,
and boys with chopping boards.

Girls driving cars,
and boys wearing scarves.

Girls do pick up a fight,
and boys argue to prove they’re right.

Girls are loud,
and boys are loud, too.

Quiet now, children.
Pack your toys right away.

Though I have long burnt
             that particular letter
             my eyes still well in tears
             when its contents I remember

Today
I painted two pictures
Retrieved an empty sweet packet
And a football
Drifting in the sea
As I took
A cooling swim
I played cards with my daughter
Spoke to my sister
Finished my book
Made lunch and dinner
And wondered about my inner ambitions
My restless desires
And I let them go
A little

a ruined bed, two lovers lay,
outside, the first slow breath of day,

a song is sung - a bird, up high,
born years ago, somehow survived

the rip and tear of tooth and claw,
hatched from a nest that did not fall,

a slender limb that did not break
on sleeping earth that did not quake

grown old and tall and straight and wide,
a withered seed that never died,

blown from afar on autumn breeze,
stirred from the ground with careless ease,

a little boy raking the ground
looked to the sky, and heard the sound
of birds

I stopped writing

For awhile.

Because I found that when I write
It’s so real.
It’s like hearing back my own words from the lips of someone wiser

Not from a broken child,
But from a bitter miser.

Take good care of the elderly
Keep them free from the cold
Give them a ring and you will see
Their worries will unfold.

They may be concerned about eating
And all their daily needs
Don't forget about their heating
And all there anxieties

We are living in times of hardship
And many are feeling down
So hold out your hand of friendship
Let them know you are around.

When they were in there infancy
They never worried about a thing
Never could they  ever see
Just what this world would bring.

Now there's something that is beautiful
And its a wonderful thing to be told
Lets say to the aged and vunerable
You are far more precious than gold.

This Distant Light
by Walid Khazindar
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Bitterly cold,
winter clings to the naked trees.

If only you would free
the bright sparrows
from your fingertips
and release a smile―that shy, tentative smile―
from the imprisoned anguish I see.

Sing! Can we not sing
as if we were warm, hand-in-hand,
sheltered by shade from a sweltering sun?

Can you not always remain this way,
stoking the fire: more beautiful than expected, in reverie?

Darkness increases and we must remain vigilant
since this distant light is our sole consolation ...
this imperiled flame, which from the beginning
has constantly flickered,
in danger of going out.

Come to me, closer and closer.
I don't want to be able to tell my hand from yours.
And let's stay awake, lest the snow smother us.

Walid Khazindar was born in Gaza City. He is considered to be one of the very best Palestinian poets; his poetry has been said to be "characterized by metaphoric originality and a novel thematic approach unprecedented in Arabic poetry." He was awarded the first Palestine Prize for Poetry in 1997. Keywords/Tags: Arabic, translation, Arab, Palestine, Palestinian, Gaza, distant, light, flame, fire, autumn, winter, trees, birds, sparrows, fingertips, smile, sing, shade, sun, fire, darkness, hand, hands, snow

I remember the hidden chapel bells in her voice,
The little cloister of her abbey looks that opened
To a lovelorn courtyard of cisterns and well works,
The sounding pulleys and ropes from the springs,
I will miss her nothing said to my infinite misgivings.

Staring into the sky,
on a bright sunny day
The birds chirping,
the branches shaking
vigorously
Too many shadows
moving in silence,
suddenly a breeze blows,
Brushing my hair smoothly
Off my face

Sometimes I breathe
Sometimes with ease
Sometimes my breath even gives relief
But sometimes like most times in life
Breathing and believing that it should feel nice
Is nothing but a dream when you've been suffocating on inside

emotions
sat heavily on my chest
squeezing my heart
and burning my head

so i piled three pillows
on top of one another
and tried to scream
the emotions out

nothing changed
except that now
my throat hurts and
my pillows are concerned

so i laughed
at my failed attempt
and wrote a poem about it

29.04.20

it’s the kind of smile
that hurts.
you know the one,
the painful yet
unavoidable one.

that inevitable feeling.
just smile through the pain.

Being a poet
is both a pain and a privilege.

All you do is
bleed your emotions
on a thousand pages
while people sing your praises
for ages.

Ink bleeds from my fingers
Like trigger fingers
Ill spell my sins in your favor
Before my brain's thoughts even hit the fkn paper.

maybe
maybe i'm
maybe i'm crazy
maybe i'm crazy and
maybe i'm crazy and lonely
maybe i'm crazy and lonely but
maybe i'm crazy and lonely but if
maybe i'm crazy and lonely but if you're
maybe i'm crazy and lonely but if you're still
maybe i'm crazy and lonely but if you're still here
maybe i'm crazy and lonely but if you're still here then
maybe i'm crazy and lonely but if you're still here then maybe

maybe you are, too.

an engrossing book
tub of favourite icecream
an ideal life.
30/5/2020

you don't have to say "i love you" to express your feelings
let the kiss and touch speak
risking everything is the most real thing of love in action
never give up on the right person for immortality of love

develops feelings doesn't have to be emotionally beautiful
it can grow slowly and painfully
the emotion of love has the heart to feel what it feels
it can tear up so easily
one mistake, one heartbreak
and you are done

let your action speak
the meaning of love doesn't have to be romantic
it doesn't have to be roses and a ring
eternal love?
love someone with action
action is real and strong
and you have your eternal

Break my bones;
cut my throat.
Pull me open,
learn the ropes.

Breath me in;
taste the fear.
Shank my skin;
stand and cheer.

Kick my head;
let me bleed.
Unbolt my veins;
enjoy the read.

Gouge my eyes;
punch my face.
Wrap me up
in your embrace.

I have kissed boys

Girls

People in between

But lately I have been kissing bottles

Their lips are colder than yours

But slowly I have realized that the pounding headache when I wake is less hurtful than the shattering in my chest

Yet as these toxins rush through my veins

I can't help but miss the tracing of your fingers along my skin

Miss the numbness of the world when you lie with me

But when I wake I remember that a headache is treated with an aspirin

While heartache

Well if you have a cure for Heartache let me know

As I stared
Deeply in the eyes
Of my pain
Exausted
And I was ready to breathe my last breath
I told her
I am done being scared of you.
I am done running away.
She cried;
Her eyes so wide
And gave me a hug;
Her arms so desperate
In that exact moment,
My last moment,
I saw.
She was never a monster.

your name is
forbidden in
my mouth
or in my heart
because when
i think about
you;

i'll cry a little more,
hurt a little stronger
love a little softer
because you no longer
make me feel sober

i'm drunk on the
memory of you

Knee to the neck
Face in the asphalt
Only in America
"Well, it must be the Black's fault!"

"Listen to the police,
...and what they're insisting!"
Floyd said he couldn't breathe
And he wasn't resisting

"Don't commit crime
...and this won't happen!"
You racist motherf@$!er,
Have you no compassion?

Did you view the same
Recording as me,
And where did you develop
Your lack of empathy?

'Relieved of duty' isn't enough
It's the bare minimum
Do right by our brothers and sisters
And charge this f@$!ing criminal

Lock up Derek Chauvin
And the others involved
Until Justice is served
This won't be resolved

I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)

You cannot possess a soul

Force it into chains

Crush a spirit and take what
remains

Make a slave

Own it from the cradle to the grave

You can use cruel ties

But you cannot bind

Freedom of the mind

Original thought

Cannot be bought

I just want it to end.

The hopelessness, the fear,
the constant critic in my head:
I've lived with them all for too long.

All I've ever known is this war, this endless battle.
There's nothing wrong with wanting it to end.
To wish that it didn't is cruel.

But why can't the best solution be the simplest?
Why do I have to keep fighting?

At times it's deafening,
and I'm so exhausted.

Why can't I just lay down in no man's land
and let this battle fall silent around me?

Why can't that be the end?

Because... I'll never know what's possible.

And over time,
My pen stopped bleeding
But my heart didn't

like water
I poured myself into her until she was overflowing at the brim

like reinforced steel
I bridged my heart to hers and welded myself to her soul

like the sun
I filled myself with light to cover her darkness

like a blanket
I shielded her from the harsh world underneath the covers

like magnets
I orbited her aura until we inevitably collided

like a seed
I felt myself growing up from her

Then, like an idiot
I could tell she felt nothing.

If I could wish
For anything
It would have been
For you

To give you back
The chance to
Walk
And move
As we all
Can do

But as fate
Had played
An awful
Hand
An accident you
Had

And so sad that
It had made you
You strived on
In such a fearless
way

Showing strength
That made
You shine
every Single day


And people
Talked so highly
Of the
Bravery
You had

You will
Always be
Remembered
And I promise
I won’t
Be sad

stoking and stroking

very, very often, but not every day,
she wakes me with a tonguing
on my clean shaven heart,
I ask not why, lest it break the over ten year,
she be magic spelling, a hexagonal licking put on me

after
ten  years she gets cat curiosity bitten,
   asks me if I want to know the wherefore,
      pretend not to hear, re-awarded with an elbow
        between the ribs five and six, grunting me a ‘sure’
          (that’s a surly unsurely, no  not really)

“you don’t take care anymore enough of the body I embrace,
so I am my own your health plan, licking your chest cavern,
one of a defensive medley of many medical techniques,
stroking the heartstrings vibrato, stoking the hearth fire,
purely selfish you see, all I ask is you purr as you do,
lay still, accept my pill of vitae min no-calorie surgery,
for ten more years, let your heart be stirred,
keep the bad stuff excised, and let the desire of returning fire
of your taste buds, be forever for me...”