I know you hate it when
you have to dress up in those fancy clothes
and parade around like an orangutan
why don’t you let it all go
and embrace your own mortality
in all regards this is just a dress rehearsal
so let yourself have fun
one option is to become hard
another is to soften
and learn to dance with the unexpected
simplicity is welcomed
all is in it’s perfect state of unfolding
i am shown my own reflection
even when the mirror distorts the image
i produce another image within my own perception
i am the creator of what i perceive
yet on all accounts the senses seem to disagree
and we are left wondering what is truly real
i steal time like you steal kisses
our hearts dance while our minds listen
for voices calling softly to our shadows
and lightning offers itself in chiaroscuro
the drama continues
i sense the new day is dawning
Venus is retrograde and I am returning
to my old stomping grounds
the elephant graveyards are covered with carpets
we laugh and roll around on the floor
our short endeavor turns into a whole day affair
did you snare me with your golden sparkles
i see your hair like feathers on an ostrich
those streaks of white
make the snow look dark by comparison
all our faiths are the same
one family embracing this entire planet
our mother calls us home
and we return
street lights blare and turn the world orange
i am fortunate to choose my own melody
sadness drifts like a river through the night’s journey onward
forget your identity and merge with the trees along the shoreline
who is the gatekeeper
the one who decides what is appropriate
i wish to meet her face and see her eyes
what a challenging occupation it must be
this infinite being presides over our frustrated creativity
i see women dreaming like symphonies
making serendipitous discoveries
individual recoveries from addiction to imprisonment
symbols surround our mountains and draw us down
from the ethers into present day reality
i choose to face the fire of the architect
stardust collects on your shelves and altars
stall as long as you wish
for procrastination can never touch this

I often wondered about that night in 1954.
When Santa almost got busted.
The tale goes that Santa was wanted for 250 million breaking and entering charges.
But they could not catch him in the act.
The town was slight that Christmas eve.
When the police were eating their nightly doughnuts.
Then out on the streets they did see..
Santa was drag racing a ford pickup.
When all of a sudden here comes supper trooper in his hopped up Chevy.
He caught the ford and Santa too.
He was going to lock him up.When out of his bag
Came the biggest pizza pie you ever seen.
But as Santa drove out of sight.You could hear him say Merry Christmas and please call my lawyer.

I hate you but I need you
I hate that I need you
I loved you but you hurt me
you hurt me and I loved you
you were suppose to protect me  instead you inflict pain
my trust you will never regain
now I trust no one
Even when I need someone
now I am guarded
and wish you would disappeared
no one hears me cry
my thoughts you occupy
you deny your the reason
oh why were you my chosen

When they saw her walking on the streets,
They saw oppression, dehumanization, and inequality.
Whilst they oppressed her with their vision
She wore her cape of grace, her drapes of black chiffon
Which also covered her face
free from all the judgment regarding beauty and ideals

the world was threatened by her walk
Although her posture was humble
She still walked with queen like grace
For she was super women and her Abaya was her cape
Her Niqaab was her shield form the worlds disgrace
And her Hijab was the crown she wore with all her grace
And she was a true woman
A woman oppressed not by her faith
But by society's obligations
She IS a woman empowered,
Empowered by her faith.

"Tell me something nice," I type. Send. Wait.
You're busy. That's alright. Okay.
Moving on to the tough decisions such as "Do I eat or do I a shower?"
Because I really only have the energy to do one.
Lifeless hours.
Suddenly, I'm crying. And I promise I'm not lying when I tell you
that I cannot pinpoint why my words taste so sour
inside my mouth.
You see, my mind is never black or white, day or night, it's a constant gray, a fog in twilight.
And I'm sorry that I cannot explain my brain to you or either of us and that you're the receiver of what thoughts spill out of me and tarnish the mood of the room.
I'm sorry that I'm telling you how I feel now because you always in turn feel the need to somehow repair what brokenness you assume is there. Right above my throat and behind my confused eyes.
(1) New Message - tell me something nice.

I was exhausted of sitting in the car,
In traffic jams at noon.
Travelling a distance too far
In an attempt to reach soon.

Glad I was home when I expected,
I started telling my Mum about the day.
I continuously blabbered,
Not giving her any chance to say.

As I was done speaking,
She asked if I could come with her,
"Sorry, I can't", I  said after thinking,
Shopping isn't something that makes me feel better.

"It's the grocery to be bought", she said,
Hoping that I might budge ,
I denied again,
And so she struck a bargain:
"I was thinking we could have sweet buttermilk."
I heard without lifting my head,
and with a child-like grin, I began to trudge.

I can control my desires well,
But I am a foodie with a sweet tooth.
I'd be in heaven, I can surely tell,
If I have book, couch and food.

"Choose a shop before we are way past it,
It was fun today", she said, smiling.
Isn't this what we live for?
It is the time we spend, and not the lure.
I was unknowingly overcome with guilt,
And we reached home, while I was still thinking.

Mind the skin you touch,
for there's no glove that could ever protect you from the worst of enemies.
Though the flesh is all you may see, you're not that.
But temptation gets so strong till we can't take it, and our bodies are open and bare, left with a heart that's naked.
There's eyes in the dark.
They've been waiting for you, to poke holes at your aura and like a snake they'll slide on through.
Passing from one to another, unaware of what we carry;
If we saw our true selves in the mirror, would the sight not change, or would it be of something scary?
It's hard to tell, even if you know them well their energy can deceive,
till they detach off them and onto your spirit they'll cling.
Sexually transmitted demons, relentlessly scheming to find away to stay alive, waiting for a sleeper to slip by not using their spiritual eyes.
How many souls you got clinging; from the merging of DNA can you still say you feel like yourself? Or is there so many thoughts inside your mind that aren't yours that you can no longer tell?
It's the exchanging of energies that can strengthen us or make us weak,  so mind the skin and if ever you should choose to miss the mark, be aware of the preying eyes,
waiting to cling to you in the dark...