Every person in this world has a name. Of course, the first thing in life that makes us all different is our name. Or names, perhaps. I know someone who has four names, Marie France Antoinette Anne. I’m friends with someone who has 3 names, Eivram Jan Heaven. Even though 3-4 names are probably hard to have, it’s kind of amazing because it adds a lot to your singularity. And the best example of them all are two names, my best friend’s name is Khelsy Gayle, my eldest sister’s: Christina Andrea, my other sister’s name is Francesca Julia and my name is Kelly Denise. And we all here, don’t even bother to deny it, has a nickname. My best friend’s name is Chellsie and everybody calls her Che. Both of my classmates are both Joshua, and they only have one name, so my teacher, in order for us to not be confused, decided to call the one who has a surname that starts with C, JC and the surname that starts with D, JD and until now we still call them by those names. And in some cases, we pick nicknames by different choices. My eldest sister’s nickname is Zoe and my other sister’s nickname is Franny because my mom loved JD Salinger so much that she named my sisters from her favourite fictional siblings. Maybe my mother wasn’t expecting me, so she didn’t name me from an iconic literary character, or a famous philosopher. Instead, she called me with a nickname that I will be known till the day that I die, it’s called ‘Keidy’. And, to be honest, I hate that nickname. But hey, I have no choice. Or we can all be known for the things that we did. Daenerys Targaryen has a lot of names, Mother of Dragons, Breaker of Chains, Protector of the realm and so on and so forth. Or you can be Arya Stark, who is  No One. An example of a name that people force to be known as but they will never achieve because she will always be Arya Stark of Winterfell.

You see, names are wonderful. It's a proof that everyone in this world, is different. And what a magical thing it is, living in the same world with different people who have different views. And to mention, same views. We all here share same views, and maybe, some of us here even share the same name.

But in every woman’s life, we share the same names. People call us with names that we don’t even have. Each of us have been called or will be called these names.


You will call us, doll. You told us we have so much cuteness in us and we are as beautiful as dolls, and we don’t have any problem with that. Little did we know that some of you don’t really admire our beauty but instead think of us as toys. Toys that you can control, toys that you think would do everything that you want. You will teach us what that we should do, you will teach us what to say and how we should act, you will teach us everything like you own us. And after we do everything that you told us to you will call us good girls.  Good girl,  continue following me.  Good girl,  get ready for more, like we are toys. But of course, you will not call us toys because girls and toys are the same for you, right?

We were taught to be clean, we were raised to be pure. That chastity is the most important thing that every woman should have. And for sure, you all want our purity, but when we disagree like we were taught to you will call us prudes. ***** for choosing who I open up to. ***** for not letting you inside my temple when I am the landlord making choices.  ***** for saying no, because your ego is far more important than my consent. And when we say yes, you will call us *****. Choosing what to do to your own body is a not a thing you should do. Expressing your sexuality is a sin to this world when you’re the one who does it. A woman’s pleasure, is not a real thing. Because we’re not allowed to have one, because we are known for giving one. We are known as ******, as women who are not clean and pure. Who spend their lives offering their bodies like they're the only thing that we can offer. You will shame us for being filthy and disgusting when you’re the reason why we are here in the first place. We are here to pleasure you, to give you what you want. But when we are the ones who would like to experience it, the world suddenly goes mad. We should not experience any pleasure but they can all the time. And when we finally speak for what’s right, our names will suddenly become *******. A ***** for speaking up, a ***** for doing the thing that I should have done ages ago, a ***** for fighting back. A ***** for being strong to be able to remove the tight grip of your hands to my mouth that has been keeping it shut, a ***** for removing the word ’silence’ in my vocabulary, a ***** for being brave to destroy the power that have kept me powerless for a long time.

Woman, I agree that we should be called names. We should be known as fire, a fire so powerful that can lit up the entire world, and burn you for playing with us the entire time. We are warriors fighting for the right thing, warriors that are strong enough to combat all the wrong doings. We are magic,we can do things that everyone never expected we could. Our mind, is the most beautiful place anyone will ever come across.
We are women, and that one word, is more than enough to make people know our value. Woman, the next time they will call you names you do not approve of, tell them. Woman, the next time they lecture you with the things you should do knowing you have your own decisions in life, **** them with your independence. Woman, make them tremble when they realise you are one. Woman, prove them all wrong. Woman, the next time they belittle you; do not let them.

I passed by ---but I saw you. I stopped and looked back
  ---right then and there, I knew you are special.
  You came to me and asked for my name.
I was coy, I was shy..I am fascinated by you.
Your green eyes is telling me of your stories.
Such gentleness, such calm, and chivalriouness,
I defenitely learned the very meaning of "Swept off my feet".

I can invent a thousand songs and ways to tell our story---believe me I can..
Stories of how we were good _TOGETHER.

I will sing of the flickering Shabbath light in the midst of melee and chaos..
of sea of endless discussions of some complicated logics
and jest with your friends
all the while chasing for my hand, held it a little while
and crochet you fingers to mine.
I then would tenderly gaze upon you while listening to the clatter and clang
of silverwares and silent stares.
  I will then transport us to my days, where all is sweet and innocent..
of another epoch of where the Mothers I held dear, and sisters, and no-blood brothers
would sing the same exact hymn,, held the same flame
of timeless prayers of Shema Israel,
  Yeshoua, and Avenou Shabbat Shamaim,..

Of how Friday nights would pass by the door
And eavesdrop while we can laugh about The Dictator,
goose-pricked by Pia Jesu, or ransacked your refrigirator.
  Or sit by the talking box and be glued to it's endless chatter about
pots, frying pans, Birjaya University, or Emanuelle Stroobant.

I can paint our Saturday mornings with lazy hues and anchorings
thanks to Bernard Lewis, stumble upon,
our dears Kindle 4th and Kindle touch
with Jon Snow and Daenerys of houseTargaryen.

Zara will then invite us to her house of fashion
and oh! how I hate the prices and prefer to accompany you in
dockers or gaps and spencers. Same thing my love,
I have not coveted you for this, not at all.
I always, always love the sound of your voice
while you were explaining about the craftmanship and quality of tis and artistry in tat.

I will remind you,,.. of how we or rather ‘I’ banged the tables of Le Chateu?
and forks and knives flying to and pro?
  All because we agree and disagree about liberalism, Islam,
Catholic bishops, Religious Tolerance, and dogmas of Christendom.

Put on the cherry of the week in my O's ice cream.. SUNDAY.

We would stir and wake to the gentle nudging of the sunlight...
of mornings full of laughter and wonderful thoughts and prayers.
You would often ask me, why do I dance..
dance like a child or a crazy woman if you may..
In the middle of the streets as we thread the route to the Sunday market.
I dance because I am happy..because I don't care ,
Because I love to sway my hand and jump on my feet and hung at your neck..
and kiss you and tell you how even after eating to the nth time that same
Morrocan chicken stuff, I still love the taste of it. It's our SUNDAY RITUAL my darling!

QUE SERA SERA... you said…
We as opposed to time, is like a ticking bomb..                        
Reality is our friend, he would remind us by his tic, by his tac…tic..tac..tic..tac.
He would sing no matter how good we are together… Que sera sera..whatever will be, will be...
Oh how I hate the very sound of it…
I will fight it, claw at it, beg…admonish..placate..and scream!
I lived and breath by the PRESENT.
I wish you would stay.., I wish you would like me enough to love me forever.

I want to give everything without reservation, as love
Love is what I have, I am , and will be…
To offer and spread it upon your feet…
Behind my heart is a  prophecy..
We will build our long line of family dynasty.
Family that is gravitated towards God,
and molded into mine heart and your being.
A family where laughter is the main hearth of inspiration,
idealism, and warming love.
I want you to teach our kids to be good men and women,
I'm sure they would, as you are a good man.
So compact and resilient and gentle in nature...

You my darling is the person that I would love to get to grow old with...
The very person I have fallen inlove with and will always love.

YOU asked me to be BRAVE...
I said I am... as Always.

You fly...

I talked to the silver moon beyond the dark sky.
pour out my heart, wretched and wanting to die.

I roam the streets of where we've been ...
Drank a cup or two at Tea leaf and Coffee Bean.
I could not forget you and what could have been.
Sitting in that same chairs of what has been,
Mirage across my desert of sorrow would appear as if I am insane.
Somewhere across the Universe...of thousand stars and leagues.

QUO VADIS?
There my Lord... him at the end of the road.
A smiling and familiar face of a man.

My heart started to pound with every heart beat.
The steps I take are but a sing-song in my feet.
I will to run towards you,  but you do not believe it.
I am floating with each stride, an exhilarating excitement
towards whose smile I so love.

HEARTS on FIRE!
It is wonderful a feeling to be enveloped in your kisses
and be overwhelmed by your gaze – AGAIN.

strange
isn’t it

how
memories
pique our moods like
mountains

bursting
through the
stratosphere
only to be sent
plummeting to the
depths of an

abyss
darker
and
deeper
than Marianas Trench
at the flip of a

switch

subtle triggers
found in the way
someone laughs
or when a co-worker
grins
out of the corner of
his or her
mouth

i see you
in the characters of the
literature and
films we used to critique
over coffee
hiding in the vestiges
of Daenerys Targaryen
or
Mélanie Laurent

you are France
an entire country
unto yourself

the smell of the sea
clings to your skin cells
in ways i
only wish
i could

you are in every
solitary
letter of Helvetica
whispering
softly
of things that
were
of things that
are
and of some things that
have not yet come to pass

you float
in the carcinogenic smoke
of cigarettes
a silhouette
corporeal particles
i exorcise
with equal parts
relief
and
regret

every night that i
paint the town
in neon colors
of vibrant life
i write your name
when i
vandalize
and fantasize
that you are
somehow with me
maybe floating happily
in the molecules
of aerosol
spreading across the
concrete

you’re in every song
by Brand New
like the residue of
dew drying on
the leaves
in the
mid-morning
light
lingering
even as
the sun calls you

home
the way i lingered
on your doorstep
to make sure that
you made it safely
back inside your
home

i’ve come to find that
i am equal parts
melancholy
and
blithe
and
i think that i
can finally say
i’m getting better

but
to borrow
a page
from Vonnegut
i’d be lying if
i said i didn’t still
catch
myself feeling
sorry
about the things that
no longer
matter