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Thandiwe Aug 2014
Days when shyness pinned us to our own demons.
Seeing our hope listed under the removals, since then a woman has stood the trial.
Grey days were when inferiority packaged our existence, having no alliances.
The wise and old, all races…somehow all dream of a free country…
One embracing our intelligence first, ignoring what’s deemed sultry.
Acknowledge our sweet injection of love into everything we touch.
Giving the unmaterialistic treasures and giving birth to God’s beauty.
Pieces of His Majesty shining in our off-springs.
Grant us…allow us to defeat the injustice and constant beatings.
Give us a chance to not see the green-eyed monster, looking back in our reflection.
Allow us to smile without having a flood of tears drowning our stint of joy.
Allow our voices to drown the critics.
Deafen the whistles gasping at sights of beautiful skin.
We love the sight of harmony.
The feeling of understanding.
So long we’ve waited for complete freedom for the world’s life-bearers.
Warm nurtures, replicas of angels...
Fear the power they possess,
Well mannered and hardly careless.
No perfection but a journey to wholeness.
Greatness is forever in us.
See our worth not from what pleasures you had in mind.
Rather polish our worth with genuine words while appreciating our presence.
Women are sprinkled with only what we know and understand.
Morals, values and good characters.
Lovers of love and abundant givers love.
Can we pretend that I'm amazing
instead of what we both know

I hurt us
for that I apologize, my love
will we be okay?

I miss everything about you
I can't believe you still want me
or if you really do?

can we pretend that I am perfect
instead of what we both know

I hurt you
I can't take that back
as much as I try
it will always be there

I miss everything about you
the little things mean the most
I can't believe you still want me
or if you really do?

can we pretend that I'm amazing
instead of what we both know

I hurt myself
for that, I am glad.
Apples can come in all shapes and sizes,
Two apples they are not the same,
See one and it's in your hand before it realizes,
Choosing the right one is part of the game,

They can look so sweet from where you sit,
But once you bite into that rotten part,
It changes your whole perception of it,
And can send and arrow through your heart,

To me I'm an apple not wholly bad,
To you the shiniest and most delectable you'd seen,
Sadly more bitter than you what thought you had,
But with time to ripen fit for my queen.

For apples to be we are both bruised,
We have been hurt and reduced,
Some visible, and some I denied the clues,
Yet together us perfectly flawed apples have fused,

Like a pair that only comes in a dual pack,
Still we cannot unfeel what we have felt,
Nor take back the damage i have dealt.
I vow to bring us back on track.

Let me be your sun,
Your source of growth,
Your only one,
So hear my oath.

I will be your love, your inspiration,
Like the apple of your first impression,
We will roll down hills and across nations,
For this is the long run and not a single session.

I see now that we could endure any weather
From stormy oceans to scorching heat
And one day i hope our seeds grow a tree together
That no other apple could possibly beat.
A something something that flowed through me one late night
Kudu R A Jun 2014
Life is rough, life is tough, but most of all life is sweet.
Life is complex but becomes simple only when you don’t compete.
Own a style, pick a course, and see it to the end.
And devotion will bring you success as excellence make you friend.

Don’t hide your potentials for fear of failure; please let them fly.
And on wings as eagle your spirit, in confidence will forever soar high.
Give no hid to critics, what they think or say, like lilies let them die.
Be ready to take corrections though; it’s sure worth the try.

This poem is to point out the greatness in you
keep your minds on the best and your hopes keep in view.
Remind you that success comes when you endure.
Let me know what you think, if you disagree or concur
I still feel this piece is incomplete but my mind can't really connect the missing piece... Feel free to comment and make your input... Thanks.
What shall I liken your power to Lord?, the strength of an ox?
NO! God thy power is like thy love.

Thy wisdom Father shall I compare it to the knowledge of man?
NO! Father thy wisdom is like thy love.

Thy glory Father shall I compare it to the light of the sun?
NO! Lord thy glory is like thy love.

And why Father do I compare theses things to thy love. . .
thy love . . . is infinite.
I was  burdened with writing a poem of praise to God as a being but I failed to find anything on this earth to compare to his greatness.
But then the epiphany struck me like lightning. I could use the fact that everything is in inadequate to God to describe his greatness.
دema flutter May 2014
We were on a road trip , on our way to meet the cousins of my father for the first time. I couldnt help but be curious about how they looked like. What they were like.  Year by year I'd discover more family members that I never knew about.

"Mom, they lived in Basrah?"

"Yes , they had."

"Huh..Basrah" I said sarcastically.

"Are they good people?" I asked.

"Yes they are, why wouldnt they be?" She said with a confused look in her eyes.

"When was the last time you saw them?" I asked, not ignoring her question quite much.

"Years ago." I was still confused because she did not number the years.

"How come I didnt meet them when i went to basrah with dad 2 years ago ?" I asked.

"Last time I had seen them myself was before we came to this country." She said.

"8 years." As I realized.

"I dont think so mom. People of iraq changed. A lot. From my latest visit." And perhaps the last visit it would be, I thought.

"Trust me on this dear." "Their father is as elegant and as royal as the head of ministry. He used to manage the biggest hotel in Iraq before he had retired." She said.

Suddenly the old images of iraq flashed in my head, and along came the current image of iraq, The comparison in my head between how great iraq used to be, how rich and beautiful the land Basrah was and how it is all gone. No admiration left, it's all an intricate matter.

The stories I hear about Iraq and the wars and the people of iraq, are close to infinity if you saw the destruction that occurred. The beautiful past, is all we have.

Sometimes, I feel like home doesnt even exist.
"Iraq". Those four letters , it's like thy dont mean anything to me anymore.
A home is a place that holds you, that keeps you warm. When did iraq ever hold me? Other than holding me backwards not forward. Other than leaving the poor cold and the rich hungry too. Where did all the blessings go? Where are the beautiful green lands? The River Tigris and Euphrates ? Helicobacter ?

It's hard to IMAGINE a country with such power, such good , such greatness , such grandeur,  magnificence, fall. But it's even harder, to WATCH it fall , and having nothing in your hands to do about it.

Such blessings, that got destroyed , on the hands of those who envied it once. The enemies destroyed the only thing that I had to believe was home.

"You know mom.. Sometimes I hate Iraq."
"Why?"
"Because it ruined our lives."

Silence filled the car for a couple of moments before anyone spoke. It was true, Iraq did  destroy us along. Iraq ruined our lives and everywhere we went our identiy was exposed but not lived by others. We once had a wealthy country, now the country is dying and the people are shattered. Mother knew it was true, even more than me, because i was just a child who couldnt remember and didnt live half the events mom had to go through. She witnessed it all.


"No one can hate their country dear, it is still your country."

It was true too, wherever I shall go, I will make my country proud, and not just a maybe, one day,Iraq will rise again, and I will have enough faith in my country that it will.
My country is not destroyed, my country lives peacefully in my heart. The people may ruin it, but it will always be as great as it used to be in my eyes.
Written today and posted today, from real life. P.s. I love my country no matter what.
Martin Narrod Apr 2014
Not an amulet, an off white vertebrae; bone.
Brass wire, a loop at one end.
It bends as to make sure this will fit.

A gauge that measures mesmerization,
And we both must get along, but
Not because we're not tough enough:
Most of us aren't soft right yet.

So many stiffs, folly after folly.
The whole carful of loose cadavers,
Dangling, their feet hang with wet snow
And carnage,

Not even musk deer pop up,
They've all gone. Roosting in a parabol,
With X's sprayed to their groins.
Burning pop couples

Doing it like laboratory mice. Capybaras
Hiss, my own burnt blood is also
Flocculating.

Turn the cup upside down and
See the fire's balmy lachrymal opaque
Moss while it does not drip.

This is the story of man you asked me about;
Devoid of a muzzle, fur onto his chest; coarse
Hair in a garland.

It is the God of a tool that buzzes into the night.
A plateau for this most sensible study.
We feel another coming.

And when you awoke, your larval tongue
My eye mush, a song of verse and melancholy.
This half list of greatness, a tally we both wish to see.
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