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Hakiim Dec 2021
There came a time when I realized the river flowed outwards
The west became Sahara and east Bombay.
The golden chops grinned in greed.
My lips were full in windy cold winter,
and you became hoarding supply-less supply.
Hakiim May 2021
what’s the law of flight
when do we walk on the sky
when does a feather bloom like cupid wing
bow in hand trying to set a good impression
only to face moons alone at night

i thought i shot for me but i guess i shot for them
who will strike me with their arrow
when does a bow become a boomerang
is the ocean really a river
am i only a bridge
Hakiim Feb 2021
meet me on common ground,
with a feather & tool of shade in hand
while the birds sync in parallel mind.

let the universe whisper
sweet nothings between our skin.
let the brown flesh merge
like water and land.

may our bodies be a field
of poppies as we dream of once again...
Hakiim Dec 2020
now
i feel like a pine tree
jazz dancing in my roots
body of bark
branches of composite
savor
leaves of creation

the wind blows like a hurricane
though im rooted in the ground
my conifer lie in silence awaiting...
Hakiim Nov 2020
it was on a windy day
the book dismembered on cobblestone
pages whipping in the sky
yet the sun shined bright
the chaos of the world and the chaos of the mind but yet finding calmness
Hakiim Oct 2020
they’re in a place of lost hopes,
silent drums on weekday vacation,
in rooms full to the brim,
oozing tar,
nightmares on sunny days.

palms mismatched like large and small.
we breathe on different intervals,
you have never seen yourself like me.
i don’t like what i see.
ever been with someone and you both knew you weren’t a match? there’s no toxicity, you just both know and it’s never spoken. not doves in love, but pigeons in partnership
Hakiim Oct 2020
Old age doesn’t turn a new body into an elder.
Only when you write on mirrors do you learn
your skin aint rough yet.

You made of glass and bone and I can see through tints.
Your flesh is baby soft,
and your mind lacks a room of study,
so when you are gifted new books,
you don’t know where to put them,
you don’t know how to read them,
you burn them.

Your mirror is still glass,
the aluminum silvering is still in a stone,
and the pen is somehow in my hand.
Have you ever had the experience of attempting to have a mature conversation with someone who  surprisingly hasn’t found that maturity yet; They lack the ability to see themselves so they project and it ends up being your  unwilling responsibility to  metaphorically hold up the mirror?
Hakiim Apr 2020
warm wind tunnels full of water lilies,
filling my cottage with fumes of nature,
fresh baked goods prepared in my kitchen,
the hum of inaudible voices echo through thick log walls,
silence fills this place as my phone dings in the far corner,
the smell of flowers and warm cookies fills the house,

gripping onto wood and string,
pressing and strumming as the peaceful vibrations fill the house,
I sea the occasional passing car as it shakes the entire house,
distant sirens exit and enter my ears,

I fill at home in this stillness,
another ding comes from my phone in the corner,
I walk into my kitchen and pour a cup of tea,
raw honey,

the table is stacked with board games,
the game system sits in the corner,
another ding,
succulents fill the shelves,

it is peaceful, hear...
i was very selective with my wording in this in order to fully express the feeling and my experience social distancing.I tried to experiment with saying more than one thing at once
Hakiim Jan 2018
I'm afraid to love what would never return blessed favor
for my heart is brittle and bare
stripped to rickety existence
Hakiim Nov 2019
what is solitude?
a cocoon of iridescent
paintings of oil on bulletproof walls
mama’s warm embrace in fetal form

a prison of darkness
where no one knows your face
where reflections are only imagined
where hands are far from reach
and reality is...

a place where beauty is created
creation is sentence
and sentence is desolation

childbed
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