This poem is now a song on https://soundcloud.com/musicalroutes

Soft day in general
some went off to pray at the cathedral
In our way we gave thanks
Sunset end of day temple riverbank.

Your eyes shone full of life
Living the dream in the west
where you believed that you had a choice

Remembering
Savita
Oh
gentle vibes forever flowing wild.

So how many more must Ireland lose?
How many more before stopping the abuse?
Don’t follow blindly crazy preachers
Healthcare  basic feature.

Remembering Savita
Oh gentle vibes
Forever flowing wild.

Lack of true compassion must be a virus
Cults and politicians just desire us
But today the cure is here
Light will replace
Light will replace the fear
For every woman
Future generations.

when i got my first period,
i was thrilled.
marked with the crimson stroke of womanhood,
i was no longer a little girl.
i was no longer too young
to be a part of the whispered gossip filled conversations
of the women in my family.
my sister and i could share boxes of pads and tampons,
bottles of advil and naproxen.
i was no longer too young to go bra shopping,
too young to understand.
i could read Teen Vogue and relate to every word,
i was a woman.

no one told me that it was now okay.
it was now okay for men to comment
on my new chest.
it was now okay for boys to yell their
tube sock dreams of my wider hips.
no longer protected by the shield of childhood,
it was now okay.

while i experienced many new things
after that first visit from Aunt Flow,
i also began to feel things i had not felt before.
an unexplained, unwarranted hatred of
the body i lived in,
my burden of anxiety heightened
with raging hormones in my blood,
mood swings worsening the monster
living under my brain named depression.
red spots on my face that boys liked to make fun of
as if their faces were not acne warzones themselves.
another growth spurt, as if i was not already towering
above the other girls in my class.

“don’t let anyone see your pad when you go to the bathroom to change,”
my friend whispered to me at school,
“it’s inappropriate.”
“don’t say period in front of boys,
it’s gross.”
“don’t talk about puberty,
boys think it’s unattractive.”

suddenly i realized that my body
was not for myself
and it was my responsibility
to act like I didn’t feel like there were
earthquakes in my ******.
it was my responsibility to hide my new body,
because my education was not as important
as the pervy boys in my math class.
it was my responsibility to not bleed through
my new jeans,
and miss class because i’m crying in the
bathroom as i call my mother to bring me
a change of clothes.

because being a woman is unattractive,
but when she’s half naked on the cover of ******* we like it.
because spreading your legs open for a ******
is gross,
but when a man is in between them it’s hot.
because a woman’s body was never for women,
unless it’s ****** and crampy,
then we don’t want to hear about it.

i am here to say that Womanhood is for women.
i am here to say that young girls should take pride
in their new bodies.
your body is yours and no one else’s
and you should never feel ashamed of it.
you should never feel shame
when the crimson wave comes.

From deep within the light is born
From deep within comes a brand new dawn
Authentic and unpolluted by thought
Far away from the traditions that man has taught
When the whole world breathes in synchronization
To become one breath
Merged with all of creation
Illuminated like the evening star
Shining bright from afar
Darkness causes the light to exist
In balanced contrast are the keys on a piano played with great bliss
The ebony and ivory creates a melody
Your life song of harmony
Where Love is a top priority
Sprung forth from the Falun Gong philosophy

Kudos to Kaepernick.

I just cannot drown all my beliefs and ideas, even if it contradicts my flesh and soul. When I heard that not standing up to the tune; that has always succeeded on sweeping all of the messes underneath the sad reality, to be deemed as subversive, I know that Rosa would definitely clench onto the seat tighter than ever.

Kneel, my friend, kneel.

To drag our body out there, all over the precious hills and fields, while acting as if the scale has always been set fairly beneath you all this time, will hurt you more than myself. How can a mere matter of things decide our future, our destiny? We shall shape our fate, you shall shape your own fate, and to be judged on the perception biasedly built in the name of order for thousands of years, is a situation that should not be endured by anyone or anything in a tiny dot within this vast universe.

Kneel, my friend, kneel.

And for that, I cannot stand proudly and profess my love to you as of now, even though I will always wear my heart on my sleeve for you to see. To be cheated, to be manipulated, to be deemed as surplus, by those at the tip of the plateau, that cunningly asked us to forget all the tangles and wrangles for the love of this sacred land, while unashamedly distribute everything off the land, off the ocean amongst them, is the last thing that we should allow to happen. I am one of those people that are not able to put on the mask on top of our meant-to-be honest faces, to say hail to the thief is worse than the eternal grief. I have never dreamed of burying the hatchet with them, not even for a second and if I ever do it, I shall be condemned and dismissed for forgetting the roots, the fons et origo of mine. To love you does not mean to stand still to the soulless melodies, to love you does not mean to bow down to the meaningless piece of cloth that has overseen countless infiltration and bombing over the years.

Kneel, my friend, kneel.

To love you is to fight for the rights of many, by any means, even by not standing up. When black is no longer the symbol of miserable, filth and calamity, we shall then breath with ease, stand on our feet and fully embrace the real meaning behind all those majestic words.

Kudos to Kaepernick.

melanin molasses, the sweetest courtship attracts the ones who have never glittered
white bullets love to kiss black skin
black on black crucificton, a gospel orchestrated by the higher powers
****** puddles lay with the concrete during the darkest hours
night bullets play white doves during the matrimony of the bottom barrels life and its fast stint.
honeymoon candles lit by the masters matches, africans seek this artificial light in times where heavens white lights could greet them with a smile and roses that are wilted.

- t.m

Excuse me sir,
Please enlighten me
Why is it that when I don’t find your **** joke funny
It means I have a ‘bad sense of humor’
But you don’t have a bad sense of morality?
Excuse me sir,
Please educate me
Why is it that when a white man ***** an unconscious woman,
He only got three months in jail?
Because he was ‘a good athlete’
Excuse me sir,
Please ask me
Why I need my feminism
I need feminism,
because ‘boys will be boys’ is being used to justify ****
Because if I decide I want to wear short shorts,
Or heels,
Or even red lipstick-
I am ‘asking for it’
Because if I am tipsy or unconscious,
I am ‘asking’ for you to take over my body
‘Asking’ you to violate me in the worst way you could
Because **** is being justified.
Boys will not ‘be boys’
Boys will be held accountable for their actions-
Just like everyone else
So Excuse me sir,
Don’t tell me **** jokes,
Don’t tell me how Brock is a good athlete,
Don’t tell me that I was asking for it,
Don’t tell me that I should ‘consider myself lucky’,
Or that I should have enjoyed it
Don’t **** shame me,
Don’t tell me it’s not a big deal,
Don’t belittle ****.
It can happen to boys,
It can happen to girls,
And everyone in between
It can happen to you,
Or to someone you love
Excuse me sir,
Please
Don’t justify ****

Mickey,

I will not get guns for Scout and Finch to shoot
the blue jays, I will not raise them with guns, ever.
I want to read them Eddie’s messages to his Mum
Before ‘he’ came and killed him, them, killed us.
They should learn what the world felt next morning,
Let them weep, sob and finally feel love, for our world.

This is where I cannot compare myself to people,
I weep as I write to you, my bones weak, skin tearing,
The 20-year-old girl did not understand but agreed
With your Mum when you said “even rapists don’t
Deserve death penalty”, it took me three years to
Realize and not agree with your Mum’s Spanish TV.

I didn’t sleep yesterday night, I watched a film with A,
At night, I could hear the boys screaming from
Tents of their Afghan allies, the scream, pain and
Moaning an elite clout wanted every night.
I threw up dinner, they called it their ‘culture’, I-
Couldn’t look at those boys dancing with bells on feet.

There’s nowhere I feel safe with Finch and Scout,
When will ‘he’ feel love and not think to “fire who?”
I fail every day unable to scream, being a coward, but
I feel good, sense hope when I see HUMAN BEINGS,
I feel exactly what Kern felt when he saw Valentine
Walk safe from the ferry, I feel home, I feel safe.

Maybe that's what people call peace
Maybe that's what people call bliss
I need sleep, I want to sleep peacefully.

Love,
Gaye
13th June 2016, 10:56 pm

War isn't that fusillade you hear in the distance
betwixt the government troops and the resistance
it's the civilians getting tattered in the crossfire
it isn't the wham of bombardment from airstrikes
by blaring Jet fighters across a shower of black in the sky
it isn't the badonkadonk of a Rocket launcher or Black Mamba
but natives being swept like Safari ants in chunky numbers
War isn't those mines planted in hitherto playing field
but the ignorant innocent children in search for a distraction killed
War isn't the televised scorched homes and gardens with corns
but the consequent drought, scarcity and "famined" and feeble as thorns
War isn't those vehicles and motors torched
it's the blameless owner who in tears the absurdity watched
War isn't that cacophony of politicians on stuffed tables
their speeches filled with hypocritical vocabulary are but fables
speak to the maimed and dead whose voices are never heard
it's those who want the anarchy to end, it's they that are tired
War isn't the nations battling or the parties in contention
it's those set, torn and cast apart...the ones we seldom mention
the parents and siblings forced to say goodbye
while their Breadwinner falls victim to conscription
despondent and despairing as they look on and cry
knowing their brother and Son's like those taken before bound to die
or those refugees wanting to return to their cradle
but having no home and nothing to return to but rubble
those forced to stay in the first world midst racist chants and hate
jeered by the "civilised" like they chose their skin-color and fate
War isn't the famous voices we hear and talk about on the media
but the ****** girls abducted, gagged, ***** and mutilated
War isn't the beautiful monster tanks wrecking
but the historical landmarks and fashioned roads
reduced to nothing, the lives within squashed under their loads
War isn't the glamorous documentary films censored and unreal
but the muffled deadbeat voices from heartbreaks that never heal
It's seeing one's whole life sublime in one moment of savagery
compelling the orphaned and widowed into manacles of *** slavery
for with the loss of their husbands and parents, neighbours, Uncles
comes the tight grasp of inhumane chains and anchors
in those places they are forced to seek refuge
places where they are treated worse when they attempt to refuse
War isn't just being apart from your people by a million a mile
War's learning to wear a weighted mask of a smile
while the heart, Soul, Mind and one's entirety's in Tears
War's knowing all one's "perspirational" toils were but wasted years
fearing to tell one's story because among the presented ears
one can no longer tell one that truly listens from one that just hears
..
whatever's in speech be it poetry or Documentary isn't War
War isn't words, war isn't testimonies, there's more
destruction to War than the eyes, heart can handle
not ever can War fit in the descriptions of words we bundle
War's something humanity never deserve
so unfair for we make war when most can hardly make love.

All we share in common is nothing
but at the moment nothing is enough
all we share are the insults you've thrown at me
which I feel are better than having bombs drop at me
all we can agree on are thousand disagreements
something much better than the war entanglements
the innocence of my blood that was almost shed
for my cradle wanted but to see me dead
all we hold in our hands is the street from where I beg
but isn't that prettier than a torn head or broken leg?
all we breathe in from the gutters is your oxygen
it's enough even if I am not forgiven
all we share is that crumb you dump in the pit
and your jeers, unsympathetic for my tears besides spit
all we share is the world you've grown up from
because chocking melancholy has
taken over my precious land
all our palms touch are the petals of red roses which
I pick up after your beautiful dinner
after it's trampled over by the carefully shaven heel of your lover
for it's after being trampled that its scent is sweeter
and which fragrance does spring in me hope
all we share in common is spring grass that's greener
for so it was in that field I last watched my best friend play
it was where his blood oozed as I did pray
  grass that burnt black as I called on
my little brother's heart not to stop
all we share in perfect common is prayer
you praying for my kind to leave
I for those left behind whilst they hopelessly grieve
wondering if I made it to the other side of the ocean
doubting whether Allah, Jesus
or whoever's creator's really watching
and if He's watching whether he's enjoying the tragic play
of reality,
all we share in common is the big beautiful sky
for while you look to it and wear that pretty smile
I smile too,only I recall the darkness left behind
the neighbour who took my bullet
the soldiers who arrived when it's too late
the lover who stepped on my land mine
one who promised they'd forever be mine
(how forever could be so short!)
the malnourished children and desperate parents
what's a happy blue sky to you only reminds me of their pine
so while you smile, I smile and at the same time I cry
I understand, all we share in common is nothing
but I'm glad I've learnt that sometimes in life
nothing could mean everything