Counting Days
-Miegrat Sammri


Lonely me, thence lonely world,
No fun, no work does it hold,
Sitting by the window and glancing at the bay,
I’m counting grains and counting days…

Slowly does it pass with no hobbies and no aim,
Life ain’t just a game, matter not what others say,
Looking at the calendar with nothing to do,
Just counting years and counting days…

Alone on the strand, a pioneer so gay,
Not caring what others hafta say,
Lying on the ground and watching the sky,
I’m counting stars and counting days…


A private island, a private yacht,
And a private company of myself,
By the ocean, staring at the watch,
I’m counting hours and counting days…

So messy has life become,
So unruly has dreams become,
Help myself, I may,
But by counting thoughts and counting days…?

Loads of work, but none to worry,
Wasted my leisure, felt no sorry.
No idea what my future holds,
But I am sure,
It’ll, as usual, pass by
Just counting rays and counting days…

music to me is like turning back the clock,
travelling to return to a life of agony and loss
i embrace the music and in turn the music takes control
i find myself in a different world
a world of pain
i could feel my soul become one with the music
as i unleashed my emotions into dance
i needed this as badly as i needed to breathe
my entire body moved with a purposeful clarity
my smile on display for all to see
but no one saw the tear i let roll down my cheeks

Minds - troubled,
needles in the brain - doubled,
thousand times - stumbled,

Words without meaning so misleading
consequences of seeing demons
and looking for reasons
to please legions
of unthankful spirits

Holocaustic thoughts belong in a box,
locked away;
Judgemental attitudes are supplemental
be careful because they're contagious;
An ill mind rages only to do what it's trained to.

****** first started with a disease,
it's called gossip.
But the world can't see that the things they breathe
out from their teeth goes into the atmospheric breeze
and it's not just carbon dioxide it's more like monoxide for the soul.

Destroyers of one another they are,
an alien race once said.
Rob from one another they do.
**** each other they do.
Help each other, what's the point?

KIlled one, helped another,
Do they only defend their brothers?
Got killed, tried to protect.
Now they end the same as them?
Only accept few, can't accept all.

Confused, what's on the news,
the soul of ****** going at it again.
If what's on the news is true
is there a God or a heaven?
7/11 robbed, twin towers bombed, only thing to do is revenge.

Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth
Spoof.
Two evils don't do a good
Goof.
Evil genius way too lenient.

They end with solutions that cause more problems,
in order to find more problems in the next 10 seconds
they all recon on the other being defeated
don't want to be judged yet they judge
Bring the Supreme Court judge let's prepare her sentence.
Remove her head,
Call us the Reverants.

Death.

Up at a time that I shouldn't be.

Thinking about things that I shouldn't be.

Sad about things I've been sad about for a couple years, I been low, I been down and out.

And it cost funerals of love, had so many doubts.

But I'm still here, moving forward on a different route.


I would give it all up, to make it all work.
I wish I could say, that they knew my worst.
End of the day, it's my gift, my curse.
At the end of the day, I know my worth.

Through everything,
I love you shawty.
You know you do me *****, shawty.
I need you to make me, happy.
Over you, there will be nobody.

Think about each other when we shouldn't be.
Missing all the past when I shouldn't be.
I be on the go.
You be on the go.
We go back and forth.
Different road
They don't know how it goes
But still I got my pride
Knowing I don't wanna be alone.
Certain times we disagree and you just let it all go.
But you're sitting right beside you though.

I'd kick it with my friend and I'd make it all worst.
But still I tried to hide it but show my worth.
Seems you putting my last, but many say first.
At the end of the day I know your worth.

Running in the streets when I shouldn't be.
Trying to make it off of writing poetry.
Loving all the things that I shouldn't be.
Knowing that it only should be you and me.
I was feeling blue.
Didn't have a clue.
Trying to figure out what to do.
And I'm losing you.
Soon I'll do a show and I'll glo'
With you in the crowd.
While I'm speaking loud.
And deep down, you are really proud.
Coming this spring, Ima fling
Ima Seek my dream.
And no matter what, Ima love you through everything.

i don't believe it
i cannot take it
you might mean it
but i'll just fake
you're so sincere
i'm so full of ****
thoughtful words i hear
and i still can't quit

In the gray light of this late autumn morning
a young mother with holiday bags on her arms
and another set underneath her eyes, carries on
– assuming with positive intent – the American
tradition of some overweight man crawling
through chimneys. Stepping out unscathed by soot.
Her son, barely three and giddy with trust, hungrily
eats this up like a peaceful Thanksgiving meal.
These lies that we carry cautiously like gifts
and pass onto our children like genes who
then pass them onto his or her friends always
(in the end) come back unpleasantly to hurt us.

On a cold autumn day, on the edge
of a railroad bridge, fifteen feet high,
a young bulky black kid contemplates
the impact, the end awaiting him

on the surface of a historically
winding boulevard. Below, service
men and women stand wet from rain,
stand huddled, foggy with confusion.

A paramedic, understanding
the surgeon’s warning, stands poised, close by,
blowing curls of smoke from her thin lips.
Had I the nerve, or just the access,

I would climb the slick, grassy hillside
that leads to the old rusted train tracks
and ask the young boy for his thick hands,
ask him what he thinks the moment was

like before L’Wren Scott held the rope
in her hands, the last breath in her lungs?
I’d ask him what he thinks it was like
before Don Cornelius planted

cold metal against his head and pulled
the trigger? Ask him what he thinks was
in the oven before Plath entered the kitchen?

You know, just to be heard one last time.