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 Jun 2020 IntoTheGale
Anais Nin
"Why one writes is a question I can never answer easily, having so often asked it of myself. I believe one writes because one has to create a world in which one can live. I could not live in any of the worlds offered to me – the world of my parents, the world of war, the world of politics. I had to create a world of my own, like a climate, a country, an atmosphere in which I could breathe, reign, and recreate myself when destroyed by living. That, I believe, is the reason for every work of art.
...
"We also write to heighten our own awareness of life. We write to lure and enchant and console others. We write to serenade our lovers. We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospection. We write, like Proust, to render all of it eternal, and to persuade ourselves that it is eternal. We write to be able to transcend our life, to reach beyond it. We write to teach ourselves to speak with others, to record the journey into the labyrinth. We write to expand our world when we feel strangled, or constricted, or lonely … When I don’t write, feel my world shrinking. I feel I am in prison. I feel I lose my fire and my color. It should be a necessity, as the sea needs to heave, and I call it breathing."
('The New Woman', 1974)
 Jun 2020 IntoTheGale
elle jaxsun
you aren't aware of how lonely i feel when you're around.

feels worse than missing you.
How can you read
a history book
With all the blood
on the pages?
...
Knitting your muffler
As childhood...
Your black dress smells of me
I can't see the white jasmine flower without you...
"You are a jasmine flower yourself"
"My jasmine flower..."
Oh, my sweet little friend !
Play with me
In the glimpse of childhood memory
Wanting your shoes
Crying to the sun...
Cut my black hair
Turning to a balloon for you
Reaching to the city of you...

شال گردنت را می بافم
...مثل بچگی
پیراهن سیاهت بوی مرا می دهد
نمی توانم گُلِ یاسِ سفید را بی تو ببینم
"تو خودت گُلِ یاسی"
..."تو گُلِ یاسِ منی"
!دوستِ کوچک و شیرینِ من
به یاد بچگی
با من بازی کن
کفش های تو را می خواهم
تا آفتاب گریه کنم
موهای سیاهم را بِبُر
بادبادکی برای تو می شوم
...به شهر تو می رسم
Life
These days
She combines for
Me, more in number
Than ever I reason may
Be. Of melancholy she sends
A sincere gift. While I deal with
The endless drought.Emanating from
beautiful challenges, a proof of my existence.



Joys
They brush
In a while, later
Their crannies are void.
Choked with vacuum. I bask in
The uniqueness of my tomorrow. Then
Hope hugs me. She embarrasses  me with endless suspense. Whispering like never  
Before. Seducing me like an icy-cold ice-cream.





Nearly
Melting away
In the sun's
Merciless  heat. Praying to
Be savoured on the tongue.
My tongue, precisely. Sooner
Than I may conciously realize. Like
A mirage they all voyage into extinction.





I gasp
In astonishment
As sluggishly I clad
Myself with hope when all
Seen may be supposedly washed away.
Life is a constant chameleon, always changing. She serves us hot and cold meals. We decide how well we can adapt.
Prayers from
The book of kindness.
Supplications
Made in stillness.

Thankful
For the life I have
Come to know.
The knowledge,
Which now I possess.
With a gladsome heart,
I shall process.
When the dark days are not yet fallen
upon me.



While my heart
Stays alert.
While my deeds
Regard change.
While the definitive factor of time,
Remains

By my side.
Now shall I bask
Now shall I furiously
Embark on the struggle.
Calling the powers
Which be. The guardians of the universe.
Of our very sphere called earth.



Requesting their blessings.
Demanding their favours.
Accepting their mysteries.
Admiring their beauties.
Upon these positives,
I shall dwell.
Till my prayers
Receive a response
And my atrium
Dwells in satisfaction.
The quest to get my heart desires fulfilled. A quest to find purpose.
 Jun 2020 IntoTheGale
JaxSpade
My skin is colored
A pigment from a palette
Of earths mother

My blood is red
Like each others

My brain thinks different
Yet similar
It wonders

Why a shade of flesh
Would matter
When chosen by the artist

The lover
The admirer
The charmer

Does it matter the cover
If you love the books contents

Coloured
 Jun 2020 IntoTheGale
basil
when
will it be
okay

to be human?

when
will skin be

beautiful?

when
will we
be able to

breathe?
my heart is so heavy.

i am not black, but i hear you. i am not black, but i see you. i am not black, but i stand with you. i am not black, but i will fight for you.

06.01.2020
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