Spending every moment of the day with you
would be quite tiresome
exhausting my soul to the point of starvation

I am in need of a spiritual nourishment
a nourishment that strengthens me
feels as healthy as a vegan dhal on a Saturday afternoon

If you want to know someone
Deeply
Truly
Sincerely
Read their poetry

The Gate opened Truth
A herald of Unity
Eighteen Forty Four

Siempre regreso a la poesía
La lengua no me importa
Solamente la habilidad de expresarme
Honestamente, sin prejuicio
Mi amor por él es imposible describir
Mi mente siente locisíma

In the very beginning,
my heart was on show but it
was actually covered
by an unsanctified dust.

In the very beginning,
I wasn't "feeling it" much.
Your eyes beamed whenever you
saw me. I felt it. I trust.

In the very beginning,
we spoke Frank truths so
don't expect Amy Winehouse
type level dedicated.

In the very beginning,
the music you played made me
nostalgic of past lovers:
our hearts left syncopated.

In the very beginning,
I was so attached to me
I smelt the selfishness from
my natural pheromones.

In the very beginning,
you walked so far ahead that
I got frustrated. A way
to see and hear how I moaned.

In the very beginning,
I definitely didn't
feel your soul as I do now.
Every pure inch of you.

In the very beginning,
it was quite different to
the very now. I wish you
the very best. Life anew.

Do not forget how healing poetry is
a simple free verse of jumble and ramble
let it become your addiction
it is healthier than other tar-filled junk in your lungs.
Never underestimate the power sketching out words
as though your brain is a map
you want to travel around it
finding its cold and dark places
and basking in its glorious sunshine
when you feel light and content.
Whether handwritten or typewritten
the words flow from your lips
or your heart or the depth of your soul
with a yearning to be heard
shouting, increasing in volume
please hear me, and don't look back!
Even though your body is never illuminated inside
your brain is illumined with ideas,
bounties you never imagined you could muster up.
I don't know how I feel right now

Swearing is the coward's way out
To put into words
To eloquate
One's deepest fears and worries
The ones punishable by shame or rejection
Dejected

****

Some of our problems occurred on the streets
I'll call them street dramas
Your shouts, and my doubts
Homelessness it seems
This love was craving for some change in the streets
A love beggar I was evidently
You left me there once crying
Crying
In the streets
A not-so-subtle drug deal happening in the middle of the road
But an exchange of happiness for depression
What rate?
Some hundred notes per smile

Isn't it odd for you walking down those same streets?

"*******"
As he walks away
A tear-jerking movie shocker
Dramatic music watching your lonesome back strut off down the street

"*******"
I say this to myself in my own head when I truly hate my own mind
And now you've said it out loud to my face
I will never forget it coming from your normally sweet, tender lips

Ready
Obviously not
Can't even fathom this going any further
Don't you see?

Ritualistic
Obviously I'm not crazy but
Careless in how I speak to you: tactless
Dubious

Reality
Obviously this is my reality
Can you deal with it?
Doubt 24/7

Righteous
Obviously I am trying
Caring so much about you
Daring to, in this state of mind

With you
Most moments are characterised by enjoyment
Laughter
Beautiful stomach-aching laughter

With you
Every moment is savoured
I do not want to watch a screen
Watch me, I will gaze at you
A look in each other's eyes feels like fulfillment
A blessing
Your kind eyes say you feel it as much as me

With you
I want the moments to last, nearly forever
Time will pause, I am present and mindful
You inspire me like I knew you would
I want to know you
I want you to know me for every second that I am

With you
I only want to spend these moments with you
Now I know exactly how I feel about you
I want us to embrace

I lost the words that used to come to me like
An avalanche of ideas
Flowing, streaming, drowning my brain in words
Pouring into my mind, not tears
But like kettle-boiled water to make that morning coffee

It is frustrating how now the images
That once focused my mind like a camera lens
Are distorted polaroids
Of long forgotten friends
........

She understood
Twisting the rusty tap
Trickling water to sprinting flow
Woooosshhhhh
Gravity pulls the earth's hydration intently with purpose
The tub fills to the brim
You pour a coconut-smelling, cheap bodywash
Not even bath gel
It foams and bubbles
Shiny, sparkly, spherical
You're now eight again
Excited by novel luxuries

Room temperature vs the bath water
Your foot burns as you put it in
Acclimatise foot, acclimatise
And now the total dip
The complete embrace of hot water

"The longer I lay there in the clear hot water the purer I felt"
From the Bell Jar
I relate

My eyes were closed shut
As I awoke
I smoked a metaphorical ****
of a Spike Lee Joint

I interpreted the depths of meaning
Scary reality
The errors of humanity
In the form of a feature film

Portrayal after portrayal
Non-minstrel, realistic black lives
Race-relation vibes
A voice for the underrepresented

Lee makes you want to use your voice
For the betterment of the world
Development of how we want our history to unfurl
Black lives matter still

Ten
You and I had a start
And now a history  
Your irises reflect mine
Chocolate brown mystery
Soya chocolate milk
Don't be sad, promise
me you'll try not to be
Here you can find solace

Eleven
Uhhh

The widest smile
Architecting the happiest creases

Oval vision with the chocolate that is just about lighter than the deep black centre
Yes I have stared that deeply into his eyes

But there's a sadness
I want to solace

Time slows down.
My heart
in my mouth.
My stomach
a host to the biggest butterflies,
with enormous wings.
Flutter, flutter.
Painful and love sick,
not going to lie.

I can't tell you, though.

If I pour the entirety of self into a poem
Does it give the poem an ego?

If I pour nothing into it
Does it mean it's superficial?

Sometimes love forces us to create.
Other moments in love, we're obliged to live.
How much can you rely on fate?
Who does that leave you with?

I used to find my mind was a star
shooting poetic verse
at speeds that led it afar,
across the entire universe.

Today, I am uninspired to write a poem
What even is poetry
without love, I'm questioning why I'm

not as inspired as I used to be.
Now it's one, it used to be some.
Love is blind and now, I cannot see.

We are children of migrants
Sitting still on the shoulders of giants
Their sway, far movements, trials
Ancestry in homelands from distant miles
Holding onto their language and their culture
Losing parts but finding a juncture
Between the old and the new
Naturally forming dual identities too
My name has a meaning
Your lack of effort to pronounce it is demeaning
The more impersonal we become
We only leave but a crumb
A trace of our heritage
The consequence of parentage

This sapling is being propagated
Pulled out of the dried soil with its roots naked and visible
Held up in the light
Now it's becoming too tall for its small terracotta ***
It needs fresh soil
Nutrition to grow it taller
To make it stronger
To make its roots deeper
A never ending story of growth
Quite close to only the beginning

I'm walking snail-like and steadily
from rock to rock,
pebble to pebble,
aiming not to fall flat on my face

A friend holds out their vein-laden hand,
and another holds their their back strong
I grasp on tightly
pushing my palms into the muscles of their shoulders
and clenching the assertiveness out of each finger

Supportive, marble statue friends
I am as a test for them to help me waddle
across nature's obstacle course
to the beautiful, bountiful waterfall across the seemingly small stream

I can't tiptoe
I want to dip my toes in
I want to let go and just walk and flow and be free
something inside gives me a push
stop, don't walk
you may fall and cry
or ominously die

I arrive at the waterfall
climb
strengthen my limbs
I made it
I'm in

Wave frantically from across the rocks
from a seemingly gigantesque cave
take a snapshot of ten minutes' ****** effort
and calorific expenditure

This is worth it
this is nature calling
the soul is swimming within the earth's loving waters
bathing
savouring
happy

This is December,
Seeing one’s breath in the mist
In the midst of conversation.

Snow may blanket paths
covering crispy leaves, feet
Crunching on them with each step.  

A fire may seek
The roast of marshmallows
And the oven, an abundance of roast veg.

Hugged tight by coats and
Scarves, and loved ones
Whilst ink darkness blotches the sky by early evening.

This is December,
A frosty cold permeates the outside,
But a loving closeness permeates inside.

A blue bicycle along some leaves
bright and sunny coloured
crunching along the grey path, a duller
tone. It is autumn fall as life leaves.

It returns to us, however,
as nature's boomerang:
as the sky cries, as the wind sang.
What is love, if not a sudden onset fever?

Our vision becomes clouded
like the morning fog,
tears fall and rosy cheeks become crowded.

An incontrollable sobbing, at rock bottom
until we reach that point shrouded
beneath the soil, becoming one with autumn.

To be human means
to be hideously capable
to grow like nature
but to never stop.

The longing to receive feelings, the canvas craved
a mishmash of personality and purple anxiety.
Prime colours meeting new tones
smudged over palm and fingernails.

Back and forth from the murky water,
brushing intimate with the whiteness,
forging a new two-dimensional genesis.

The face became asymmetrical of
a female ethereal figure
surrounded by deep green, full-of-life leaves.
The purple surrounded her,
consuming her growth and trying to contain it.
It became the backdrop for her life.
This spiralling out-of-control thoughtlessness
this, in fact, deep rumination and self-destruction.

Sat painting for hours...

Paint all over hands, clothes, and sofa...

The backdrop of her life...

The backdrop of my life...

Despite letters appearing the same size on a screen
The size in terms of profundity of a word
Differs completely

A short word
It can carry so much more weight
Than a long word, metaphysically

Love for example
Its meaning infinite
As it binds peoples, universes

God for example
Obviously starkly contrasting for everyone
But its meaning inexplicable

True for example
What does one know
Truth is one, therefore complex

There's something in
you that I
want to know
better, something in
you that I
think you want
to too but
I'm unsure of
how you'd react
if you knew
I felt like
this about you.

There's something in
the way you
talk to me
look at me
ask for my
approval in things
that no one
else cares about
but I admit
I quite like
the way they
look at me,
your hazel eyes.

The invisibility is suffocating
It's a tight mask or a dark smog floating around
Forcibly bound and stuck to the ground
How can one be down to earth when the nettles are stinging?

Love was supposed to create visibility
To show everything
To stop the quiet speaking and let thoughts loudly sing
To make comfortable the feelings of vulnerability

The heart knows
And every time it remembers it falls into bits
Hitting the floor, experiencing the blows

I wanted to be your visible, I want to be a piece that fits
Nothing of your life shows
That I am in it, that I am in it...

Today,
and only today,
I've learnt to love the rain.

Sunshine,
was my best friend,
warming my skin and darkening its pigment.

The moon,
had its cratered imperfections,
but ultimately, was a guardian of safety as it lit up the night.

Rain,
my least favourite of them all,
made my clothes smell of damp and ruined my mood.

Now,
I appreciate that
it cleans
showers
beautifies
and adorns our world
it provides the air with a fresh smell
maintains the beautiful flowers
and the grass' greenness.

How could I have ever hated the rain?

So happy,
oh so happy am I,
to have learnt to love the rain.

Seven
There's a yearning for love
A soul's peace you cannot find
In your night escapades
If you talk to me, we'll explore your mind

Eight
You are a breath of fresh air
Oxygenated, pure, sweet-smelling
A bountiful positive force in my life
Highest vibration of energy dwelling,
And lingering in my head

Look how the trees
Are bullied by the wind
But they still stand tall and firm

It's fuzzy in my mind
I need you
My thoughts are racing
I need you
You are so kind
I need you
I miss embracing
I need you

Water trickles from my eyes
I need you
The water flows increasingly
I need you
I fail when I try
I need you
Thoughts start to firework unceasingly
I need you

Who do I need?
I need you
Is it me or you?
I need you
What we think we need
I need you
Who am I talking to?
I need you

My corpse-like body is heavy and hollow
I needed you
I still would if I were here to follow
Give me a hug, a kiss, a something true.

In moments of almost silence
the only certain sound is the buzzing of my fridge
and as the buzzing gets louder
and the flesh ***** so well-known for pumping me lifeblood
is draining life out of me

It's racing again

My eyes feel heavy
layers of light eyeshadow at the centres of my eyes
glittery and highlighting
highlighting that this whole thing is becoming society's cliche
in my head
it's all in my head

It's racing again

Until the calm comes
counting can't console me
and
nor can you
you're trying
I see you

it's racing again
it's just got to pass

pass

please pass

I'm stuck.
The tears I cry
don't turn into gold.

Kintsugi
I thought if I was broken
I would be replaced with gold.

Selfish earthly tears
state of emergency
more like sterling silver than nine carat gold.

Films romanticise tears
only on beautiful faces
Oscars and Golden Globes.

Hands are the body's warm greeting
they direct and show and tell
I watch his
as they turn the pages very well

I'm laying down
head on his lap
no sight of his head, nor his torso
I'm turned away and there's a ****** gap

Projecting unfocused black and white images
on the wall of my bedroom
a caress, murmuring, a conversation
and he'll be gone soon

His hands motion his emotions
the page-turning incessant
light from the projection and cheap scented candles
highlighting flesh, bone, and incandescence

I am a director of this seeming aesthetic film
the script is unfinished
without delving too deeply into this memorable moment
the self is being diminished

The women I know
and their nostalgia.

The traditional habits of immigrant women
culture gleaning from their pupils
a yearning to go home
language beckoning from their tongues
past their turmeric teeth

These are homemade women
I love and admire them
their history has made today stunning and golden
I am the admiring sunflower and they are the sun

Together let's warm up leftovers
and eat them for breakfast