where are women really safe?
how is it that society-collect FAILS
as humanity stumbles yet again.. and again?
our lady-folk are not safe..


Amaya-bai* finds little comfort but in sibilant-twin
as no eye of sun nor ginoo laid eye on this binukot

Olga is the silent-saint; believes in charity at home
yet chaos ensues too easily - she is wronged and just gets.. lost in the system

Zandile fetches precious amanzi in her sun-soaked calabash
her vigilant-sister falls.. roving guerrilla-men from the river's edge

Michelle, la petite belle, survives the daily-grind via low-coin
tubes to Champs-Élysées as assistante-de-pharmacie

Aadita,  from the outset at 15, dons a veil hiding ****** acid-burns
she has some relative-luck to escape sati later on

Amy with downtrod-heart, grabs the tram to downtown family
wearing dark glasses and gloves on rainy-day blues

Emiko graced (yet cursed) with beauty struggles with ancient-practice
despite the ban, silent-suffering lotus-gait in the tiny village

Aisha may be alive but not well from ethnic-marking tragedy
as irugu are outcast from all-too prevalent gishiri-cruelty




might as well take a trip to Vladivostok
or be dumped in a sarcophagus
beneath the Pyramids
safer there







S T - 27 sept 2013 - *freitag

I’m the girl with the loudest laugh in the crowd, who warms the bodies of those who surround with happiness; the girl who puts on a smile and lights up the room, the girl who is there for everyone in their times of lonesome tears and times of trouble.

Within my laughs are cries of pain; among my lips is a dreadful control, constantly attempting to stop the quivering muscles; inside the bright room, the shadows wrap around me in their soothing embrace, drawing me into their abyss yet again; I’m the girl who wants to be comforted, calmed, and loved.

Notice me, and what I entail. Listen to my words, and try to understand their meaning. Look into my eyes and hear their quiet whispers as they spill out the secrets of sable struggles, a seemly sacrificed soul, and a sensibly sobered sanity.

This illness crawls through my brain, embedding the virus deeper into me, and stripping away all remembrances of my wholesome well-being. My body shivers and shutters despite the piles of blankets on top of me, or the two jackets upon my back. This physical cold is nothing compared to the grim cold running through my veins. I’m dawned with illness as my muscles shake and strain from the trifling weight of my own sorrow.

With each brush stroke, more hair comes out. The dark, twined mane falls on the floor of my bathroom tub, haunting me with judgment. My nails are peeled, the bags under my eyes darkened, the shine from my hair gone; all to feel normal. I stare at my reflection in the mirror, why am I doing this to myself?

___________
eating disorders, bulimia, depression, lost, lonely, depressed, struggles, pain, coping, mia, ana, life

Scrape flakes off the surface
Doesn't matter one whit, or two
No need to hide any unbidden thoughts
The mirror cannot see the back of your mind.*

1.
Come along and take my hand
Fear not the things which tempt you
Come a long way, why dither now?
Lest you lose your taste buds for good.

Let the tale unfold itself for you
And allow fate to break old sequence
So afraid to step outta that mould
To unravel said threads for a while...

2.
Must make you fully understand
Manic moon is on the searing wax again
Making fools slip on magic treachery
Is perdition really all that awaits?

So, please...lie on your side in the mirror
Look at the shapes I want to hold
Touch the petals I ache to crush
You're letting it go.. yes, getting so bold.

Pushing up against you, under your bra
Do you know no-one can see? Look at me.
Try and relax, come on.. please let go
Stop looking around, there's nobody there!

I watch your eyes as I do that thing
That which I tried before but failed
You were in tune with the moment
But found your hand a tad lively.

You let me do some things I want to do
Let my fingers drift around, over mound
I lift you over me, ever-so-slow
Your eyes rail at me, but make no sound.

3.
You kiss the dip below my busy-Apple
Make me collect your embraces in a deep frenzy
Lucid enough to realise, sad to say
That you sometimes end as abrupt as you please.

You tell me things, how I love lappin 'em all up
Your words enter and sit on a shelf in my mind
As on a throne, they beckon to parts of me
And play jolly games of hide-and-seek.

Yet I feel your agitation gripping at your insides
I try again to make you float away with me
But all around, even with eyes pressed shut
Whose critical faces do you see peering at you?

4.
No, the looking glass reflects not the truth
Like a fish pulled backwards, desire drowns thus
Rudely suffocated by refined conflicts
Usurped by typical ideals set impossibly high.

Twisting in my arms, you try to wriggle out
Why, pray tell.. are you fighting me so?
Super-quick, you're on your feet. What the hell... ?
You can be so utterly fierce in your defense!

5.
I am so attracted to you; yet must I depart hence?
You thwart us at every perfect turn, slit us
You clog beautiful efforts at unity
Placing a huge drain on our collective energy.

So, while the mirror may appear a tranquil lake
No-one does see the turmoil swirling below, down
Hard to hide that inescapable spiral of reality
Cannot sustain that persistent eddy, 'tis all done.

Unbeknown to us both, playing at life thus
Nothing new to humanity, yet so petrified
While taking everything so serioso, we forget
Joke's on us: no-one gets out here alive, ******!



Yes, all that remains in the wake of dying embers
Would be those very flakes you tried to dismiss
See? Told you, no need. Came down all its own
And the mirror still cannot see the back of your mind.




S T - 23 sept 2013

I have learned, that with truest vision,
You see not the person, but God within Them.

We’re so certain, aren’t we?
When we’re just kids telling our
Friends our favorite color

We don’t care what they think.
Or if it’s theirs, too.

We are so certain
We smile in the morning and when
We fall asleep
Because we know that the day will be beautiful.
Everything is beautiful.

We are so certain, aren’t we?
When the dreams painted on our eyelids are nothing but fairytales and daylight
We are certain.

When did that change?

I don’t know my favorite color.
Neither do my friends,
Because they’re not my friends anymore.
They’re gone and I don’t wake up smiling.

I don’t know my favorite color.
When did that change?

paradise is the way
your eyelashes close together
like butterfly wings
as you whisper my name
through pillow lips,
your hand submerged in
my
mane.

staring through heat wave shimmer
baring to the sky
thoughts unseen


1.
watching
picking of peaches in drop-day sun
rows and rows of others
             neat aligning synchrony - laden baskets
like well-oiled piston-joints

2.
and when you think nobody looks
               a sudden-bite into fleshy-soft ardour
taste oh
         of swollen heaven-fruit
oh ******!
accordion-vision spilling of the unexpected
                               (drip.. drip.. splash.. sink.. )
onto the collar of your cotton-blouse
in slightly off-white splendour

arms thrown up in harvest-fervour
          a semi-circle of moist petal
winks at me
          from arm-pit labour
a deep flush on cheeks as your locket-eye feels a touch unready
finding my mild-gaze resting on your
rubiest-lips ever seen

3.
later
it is sure
a plumb-matching of that pretty furtive-stain
will be rather fetching
on your light-green peasant-frock

hark now!
the winds will howl in least protest
and
waves off southern-cliff coast
where hardy-souls dare go
will quite steadfast
roar..
in unison


oh, ice-rains may fall and squalls may blow
yet finest moment-dawning will be
much like..
picking at the ripe-time*




S T - 20 sept

speaking of drugs and soul mates,
somehow his dangly fingers found the inner stitches
of my pinkplated skinny jeans.
we fell into backseats and booths at bars that held
sushi and white powder lining caked sinks.
we giggled at how he said tomato, and i dissolved into
the sixth beer, the seventh, the eighth,
the lines between her lipstick.
we danced and screamed among stained floors, holding each other,
waiting until the moon lifted us.
he and i held hands as i ran between poles, pretending
i was the goddess of love, of lust, of night.
we made out and my head cracked upon glass,
his glasses slid upon pavement. he was nervous, i was laughing.
an american girl, his first time.
his fingers traced, cream upon coffee.
in the morning i found bruises upon my lips,
marks of eagerness, of mistakes.
we walked again, not hand in hand,
dreary and rainy, perfect London weather.
and i wondered if having tea
and crumpets would have
helped.

[ A beautiful poem from my Dad. Love is encouraging the ones you Love. :) ]

One Glorious Spring Day,
An Angel was sent;
Sorrow was turned to Joy
The moment our eyes met.

Never knew Love until that day,
Heaven nor earth could take that away.
A bond that will last eternity away.

One Glorious Spring Day,
Heaven at last;
Just a smile or one look in her eyes,
JESUS I see in an innocent child.

One Glorious Spring Day
In Heaven we will sing...
Glory and Praise to the One Living King

Yes, the King of kings JESUS CHRIST,
Who gave his Life for all
That we may live forever and ever

Clever you say...Not so...

HIS redeeming Blood...
         ...The only way.