I like pens that bleed Ink that smears Girls with scars Broken parts ***** clothes Stained sheets The hint of blood The taste of **** The smells of love Nights through morning Mornings to night Suns that sleep Moons that dream And all the pretty You hide underneath Those pretty Pretty Pretty things
As a child I asked my mother to mend my lonely heart to accept and understand me as I am and not as who she hoped I’d be.
Please do not turn your pain on me inflicting wounds so deep that I refuse to ever trust myself.
Eyes aflamed with tears. Sinuses clogged with snot. Without comprehending without words I asked for her patience her kindness, to secure my innocence. I asked for safety at home.
Had I known the violence she would sow planting row after row of red marks and broken hearts I would have found a gun and a safe little corner. I would have asked no one and taken the peace I deserved.
I once had a friend Her beauty very rivetting, Her eyes like the moon beam Her nose ETHEREAL her voice like a Serenade She loved everything beautiful and Mysterious She was drawn to mystery Her name MUNA mine LUNA
And so we planned Planned how we would live our lives She wanted to be a medical doctor To save the world I on the other hand was not Sure who I wanted to be. She told me she would save the world From pain From strife From evil She was always ready Always vibrant Always steadfast Always innocent The light shined on her And she glittered at night
But then The Cloud gave way And the light that paraded her beauty Began to fade The air that loved her vanished And a wicked aura came The beautiful cloud took an hiatus And a strange eerie sky took charge Her world began sinking in the dark And the doors of joy shut against her A stranger came to her And overwhelmed her with burning darkness He held her and dragged her He dragged her into the night She wanted to run But he was too dark to be outweighed He was too strong Too carlous As he took her away Into his monstrous world I began searching for her But couldn't find her I searched through the dark valley But all amounted nothing
Muna was precious And always smiling She had plans She had ambitions She loved life She loved God She wanted to be loved But this monstrous stranger Hit her He bit her and took away all her innocence in the most callous way He tortured her and took her by force All her dreams he swallowed All her glory he vanished Stabbing her with the knife of frustration He became her God And one day when she tried to run He caught her And burnt her with pain Her body became his dustbin And he was in charge
And after shattering her After breaking her will After destroying her zeal After swallowing her dreams After using her to mop the floor He left her bare
My friend Muna I saw her My friend was worse than a shadow My friend became a fleabag My friend had been broken Killed and buried Even though alive I asked my friend Why have you become so pale? She smiled and dropped me a note? Which read
It was BEAUTY MY BEAUTY IT WAS BEAUTY THAT BETRAYED ME The grace of my smile The smoothness of my skin The firmness of my ******* The sweetness within my thighs My BEAUTY BETRAYED ME AND SOLD ME OUT And now I am a crushed flower A crushed flower that will never bloom or rise again A flower that will die slowly All because My beauty sold me out I never wished to be beautiful I never wished to be ***** BUT LIFE HAS BETRAYED ME AND So LUNA MY FRIEND? UNTIL WE MEET TO PART NO MORE
GOODBYE MY FRIEND.
As I dropped the note I looked around but couldn't find her My Friend Muna Has gone away For she had been crushed without measures By a Man like you A man just like you reading this POEM HOW MANY MUNA'S HAVE YOU CRUSHED?
As i sit and write this sad tale, I cannot help but CURSE all Men who have crushed so many Muna's out there.....
BUT WITH TEARS IN MY EYES I ASK THIS LAST QUESTION, CAN SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME WHERE DID MY FRIEND GO?
Before identities and allegiances are even confirmed, The cries of anger rise up like a thick, black smoke, Heavy and suffocating, it flows through streets, Over the English Channel, across oceans, Seeping into social media and blanketing all else. Cries for vengeance, Vengeance, Vengeance. And those cries barely manifested into a wisp When Beirut was attacked the day before Paris. I didn't see any Facebook pictures of the flag of Lebanon. Do any of us even know what the flag of Lebanon looks like??? To **** innocent people is a crime except when we do it, Then it's "There are always casualties of war," But if this isn't a war except when we're killing people, Can it really be called a war? We care so much about the injustice of it, How the innocent are mowed down without mercy, That we want those bombs dropped and we want them dropped now. When those bombs destroy homes and blast children's limbs apart, Bloodless and pale, until the area looks like it used to be a porcelain doll factory... Will we all have Syrian flags for our Facebook pictures?