There is still so much to see;
do not feel blinded.
There is still so much to do;
do not say you're bored.
There are still so many strangers to meet;
do not feel alone.
There are still so many choices to make;
do not feel trapped.
There is still so much to feel;
do not feel sad.

There are still so many places to go;
do not stop now.

I'm starting
to see
through people
who make
their lives
look pretty

One can write of anger, of fear
Of mystery or tears
But one must never write of love

Emotions at first, are a foggy mist
Swirling the depths of our minds,
Intangible, elusive, unlatched -
All we desire is a meaning attached

Through action or words
The mist escapes our souls
Turning to warm liquid
Slightly tangible
Before seeping through our knuckles
Slippery wet

However, you will find,
The most interesting form of emotions that exists
Is when they hit a writer’s page
Like crimson puddles of his blood
Turning from hot liquid life
To solid concrete print

One can write of anger, of fear
Of mystery or tears
But one must never write of love
For it is both a roaring beast
And foggy mist
Neither tangible or tameable
By the confinement of words

So my answer to the question
Of why I never write of love
Is: how can one write a poem about love
When love is a poem in itself?

I wrote a list
Of all the times
I have seen injustices
Being committed against women
In my life-
And the list was longer than the Bible.

I wrote a list
Of all the injustices
That had been committed
Against women around the world today-
And the list was longer than
All the words
From all the languages
They are silenced in

I think
you were drawn
to me
by the way I could
heal you;
unlike the pills
that just made you
feel nothing.

I think I love you
because of the way
you love me.

And it breaks my heart
That I can never love you
To the depths
That you love me.

Sink your teeth
Into my lips;
I am your bread and butter
Smeared with strawberry jam;
Your favourite childhood treat
When it was permitted,
Or when you could find a way
To reach the top shelf.

If only love
Lasted as long as
These fragile cases
We call bodies.

Instead,
Like simmering water
It reaches boiling point;
Slowly evaporating,
Leaving a cool, bare surface.

Mom
You never gave me approval to water my roots with;
And it’s been two years and you wonder why
This plant is dying.

You handed me your love
But it was always on a silver tray,
Cold and at arms length
Where I could never reach it

Mother give me love
In my hand
So that I can feel it
Hold it
And Know how to distinguish its textures from others
(Mom I am giving my love to men who will never give it back to me
because I know not the texture of love)

Mother give me love in my hand
like fistful of raw earth
it does not have to be beautiful I promise
but it will be pure and true
and I’ll love you for it

mother give me love
so that we can nourish this relationship again
I miss the flowers that blossomed from these soils

Mother give me love please
So I can mould it into my hands
So that I may know
What self-love looks like

I am supposed
to be doing my math homework

which currently lies
buried beneath
countless pages of poetry

because no algorithm can solve
the meaning of life

and no geometry proof
can prove love.

I don't know
If I find it more beautiful
That we can read different books
And feel the same way,
Or that we can reread the same book
At separate parts of our lives
And feel different.

I guess it's the same as loving people.

I’m not more grateful
For the nurturing warmth of the sun
After a long winter
Than I am for the soothing shade
On a scorching day.
I love the yin and yang-
There is no good and bad
But thinking that makes it so.

And the sun
Kept shining down
In waves,
Warming my skin
With its brilliant glow
And then suddenly
Disappearing behind a cloud
Only to leave
My body aching
For its warmth.

Sometimes I wish
The sun would go away
Instead of coaxing me
Into believing it would stay.

Sometimes I think
The sun is you

Do some conversations
Ever leave you thinking
That angels speak to us
Through the words
Of people we know?

To be a child
is to see,
within a plastic bead,
the beauty of a pearl.

When he was younger,
He used to feel overwhelmed
By the endless possibilities
That awaited him,
To the point that it kept him up
At night.

But now
He cannot sleep
Because his life's regrets
Weigh heavily
Upon his thoughts.

I want to drown in sleep
Hold me down under a sea of dreams
I’m tired of this insomniaic mess

For me
Courage was first a mental act
Then a physical act;
Then came the physical reward
And after, the mental reward

You tell me
You've been doubting
Whether I'm in love with you,
And I'm afraid my answer
Isn't as easy as
"one, two.."

One divided by two
Always equals a half,
Right?
Teachers told us that
"If Sally cuts an orange
In half
She's left
With two equal halves
Of a whole."

But love
Doesn't work
That way-
Comparing love and oranges
Is like comparing
Apples and pears,
if you will.
I bet Sally never tried
To cut a  heart in two?

Another wise teacher
Once told me
That between two people
"One always loves the other more"

But isn't it
odd
How love is never
even?

And the child inside me,
That still sees the good
In the world,
Refuses to believe
That cupid only carries around
Half as many arrows
As there are lovers.

And it's just not fair
That you
Know the value of
x
That I've been trying
to solve
Since my heart
was last broken.
Boy, you could be my answer-
I just haven't figured out the question.

It's all just a numbers game-
messing with my mind-
So for now
I'll just count my blessings
while trying to make things add up:

You see,
You take my love

Add 2000km,
7 months
and a 1000 stories
We'll have to tell each other-

and at the end of the equation,
my love is still the common factor.

If you do not feel,
at least once a day,
as if you are living alone
in a small immaculate bubble
where the outside world doesn't matter,
snuggled up with a book,
or curling the grass between your toes
then
you are not doing it right.

My biggest flaw
Is feeling in waves
Of other people's
Emotions

In an ideal world,
Life and love
Are not ephemeral.

I love you more
than all the other people I love
put together.
And that is a lot of love.

We could learn
A lot from children:
They seem to find
Happiness in almost anything,
Instead of searching
For it endlessly.  

Imagine
How happy
The world would be,
If we were all just
Children for the day.

Just imagine.

I've started to think
That the answers are
At the end of the bottle-
The end of the box of tissues-
The end of your lingering kiss-
But because there are no ends
There will never be any answers,
Except maybe at the end of my pen's ink.

Life flows in an endless stream of moments;
Like a river it has always trickled on with ease.
But for while, an obstacle has been in its path;
Sending streams of fate into parallel universes.
Soon when the path is clear once more
The stream of movement will continue;
This time, as a force to be reckoned with.

I am trapped in a crystal lattice
Of my own emotions-
The prickling reality
Of my anxious thoughts
Are keeping me from moving,
Breathing and knowing truth-
If only pure consciousness
Could dissolve
Such tortuous bonds,
I would  know freedom from myself
Once more

Every time
You close your eyes
To make a wish,
Open them once again
And ask yourself
What you're doing
To make that wish come true.

The end of all happiness
Comes from
Too much time to think

“As we connect to the present, we recognize that whatever has us afraid is only a potentiality, like a bad dream. In this moment, our feet are planted, heart beating, breath flowing.. here and now we are safe.”

Our lives are about meeting people;
Some of whom are similar to us,
And others who are different
In almost every way.

We fall in love
With parts of these people,
And we wish we'd forget
Some parts of others;

But each fragment
Of each person
Teaches us something about ourselves.

And slowly,
Subtly
And poignantly;
We begin to understand ourselves
Through others.

My blessings
Almost always
Come in the form
Of people,

And I'm in awe
Of all the blessings
I have yet to meet.

We took different paths and
I’m exhausted from trying to find
Some trace of you
In my thoughts
And in my dreams
But at least
I’m not running from myself
Anymore

Never forget
You are the masterpiece,
You are the golden frame that surrounds it,
You are the mansion that houses all art!
Your soul is the proprietor of all the magic and value in the world,
You own it and to dispense of it
Would be a crime of epic proportions.

Happiness
is the ability
to marvel
at human individuality,

but what most people
don't see
is that by trying
to be what we are not,

we are denying
someone that
happiness.

I want to say
I love you
I want to say
I hate you;
I want to say
I’m sorry
I want you
To apologise;
I want to explain
And I want
To remain silent;
I want to regret
And I want to
Believe
it all happens
For a reason;
I want to
Go back in time
And I look forward
To better days;
I want
A lot
And that’s
Okay.

I am forever perplexed
By the idea that
I have only ever
Seen myself in mirrors.

Do I perceive myself
As others do?
Or have I created
An illusion of myself
All these years?

And the show would be far more enjoyable
If we all realized we were the spectators
Not the lead role

In these walls of skin and bone
I house a sacred soul
An inquisitive mind
And noble conscience
I feed it daily with nurturing thoughts
I tend to its needs like a caring mother
I have built these walls on a strong foundation
But painted it in soft shades of self love

I have built a home that I love coming back to;
A shelter when storms are brewing
A place I never grow tired of
Yet A place that could still use touch ups every day

And after years of building and refining-
I think I’d like to welcome you in.

As I meditate in prayer
I realize heaven
Is the golden spaces
Between thoughts

When it rains
And I am happy
I know I am at peace.
When it rains
And I am not
I know storms are brewing within.
The inside and the outside
Are connected more
Often than we think.

Don’t forget
To tell stories-
You’ll live through the joy
Twice;
Once in the moment
And again when you share them;
Tell them just as they happened
So you can experience the raw happiness once again

Don’t forget to tell stories-
You’ll process the pain
Every time you work through
What you thought
you could never face again;
Tell them in whatever way
Feels most gentle to you,
And rest easy
knowing that you are now in control.

Tell the ones you keep floating on the surface
Always ready to be grabbed and told
And tell the ones you’ve been clasping
Deeply in your fists for years.

Tell them for yourself
Or for others to know
That they are not alone-
But whatever you do
Don’t forget to tell stories.

Men push yet
We rise
Men push and press yet
We rise
Men push, press, choke yet
We rise
Men push, press, choke, hold down yet
We rise
Men push, press, choke, hold down, tear yet
We rise
Men push, press, choke, hold down, tear, scrape yet
We rise
Men push, press, choke, hold down, tear, scrape, drag yet
We rise
Their hard clay armour will crack
Around our lush roots and
We will rise

Suddenly
With a look of confusion on my face
But no confusion in my heart
I realized I wanted to write again
Like a man emerging from a cloud of depression
I wanted to live again.
I realized I could write again
Like someone standing after years of paralysis,
I could move freely once more.
I had to write again
Like I had to breathe-
Words streamed out
As naturally as exhalations from my chest
And as urgently as water breaking river banks

And I knew it was because I had left you and found me.

Today I'll dare
To dream of better days;

Today I'll be bold enough
To believe the future is a better place;

Today I'll dare to believe
That the stranger in front of me,
Gleaming from ear to ear,
Is me in times to come.

Today I'll give them a smile
To show them how far they've come
And today they'll smile back
To remind me this isn't the end

I know my garden of peace
Will not grow overnight;
Like any fruit worth eating
I will wait for my manifestations
To blossom and ripen
Before I can live them.
But as of today
I vow to plant my seeds of intention,
Water them every day
And to remove any weeds of doubt
That may creep up on me.

Come rain or shine
I await all nourishment for my garden
With open arms

I’m confronted with the edge
Once again
For the umpteenth time
Since we last saw one another.  
The edge is so close;
The waves below
Offer to swallow me and my sadness.

Do I accept their offer,
And be granted immediate relief?
Or do I take a few steps back,
Carrying my load
Of iron and lead filled pain;
The same pain that will help me sink to the bottom of your depths.

My mind is telling me
That stepping over the edge
Will not end my pain
But will only make it worse,
But every fiber of my addiction to you
Beckons me forward

For a moment,
Instead of looking down
At you as my only option,
I look up to the sky I’d forgotten was above me
It’s vastness reminds me
That even though the idea of you was like the ocean,
The sky is even greater,
As it contains both you and me alike
And I let the tides beat ceaselessly along
Behind me

I’m craving
A hot summer day,
A scorching nape-of-the-neck
Kind of day,
Soothed by chlorine-blue waters.
An anxiously hot toes on pool tiles
Kind of day,
Where my inner child can play

My woman,
Take back your strength,
For it is not something
You have to discover,
But something
You have always been entitled to.

My woman,
You once housed all power,
So take back your strength.

Sometimes
All it takes
Is a ******* a plane
Sitting next to you,
Her notebook sprawled open
Her pen furiously spewing ink
Into the lifeform of a human face-
To realize that you’ve been missing the chaos of art all along

I’m terrified
Of loving more;
So I never
Take the tag
Off my relationships
In case
I have to return them.
As if love was a possession.