We got out of the ****** motel early,
while we still could,
before the rental car got stolen
or our room underwent dynamic drive-by refurbishment.
There was supposed to be a
complimentary continental breakfast,
but the coffee machine was broken
and someone had already swiped all the donuts.

My only frame of reference for Inglewood was that it was Sam Jackson's character's home turf in 'Pulp Fiction',
leading me to suspect it
probably wasn't a nice area,
although the fat ****** smoking outside
when we'd checked in at 2am
had seemed very friendly.

You were right about LA, about
how there must be a sun, but you can't
really see it, you just
sort of assume it's up there somewhere
behind the fog huffing in off the Pacific
and the toxic breath rising from the
city's gridlocked mouth.

We made for Venice Beach, because you
don't fly all that way and then not go,
us figuring ourselves early enough
in the grey, jet-lagged damp, to
avoid the junkies, the winos and the crazies,
the symptoms of America driving itself mad with
unrealistic dreams.
But they were already there, muttering and
shivering on sand and cement, some
under rags or cardboard,
just waking up in
spite of themselves.

A woman with the hungriest face I ever saw
threw a cigarette lighter at me, then yelled,
shaking in her filthy clothes, that she wasn't giving it to me, *****, FYI,
FBI, CIA, JFK... then
started screaming about Kennedy and all those lying ***** up on the hill.

The ocean ******* away at the land behind us, like it was
whetting its appetite for the day when San Andreas splinters, and the waves finally get to
devour
California.

The hungry-faced woman was still shouting when
we walked away, through the graffiti and
gangs of *******-huge, hulking seagulls.
If I'd stopped and tried to talk to her, if I'd
gotten anywhere close enough, I was
afraid she'd tear a bite out of my face,
and I didn't know what shots I'd need if that happened, and we didn't have medical.
Which was a shame,
because I'd have liked to hear
what she had to say about Kennedy.

We walked to where you'd street-parked
the car which
still hadn't been stolen.
On the way, some guy, a stranger
coming the other way, called you
'Football Dude' and asked you
to catch his neighbour if she
jumped off her balcony, but
I think he was joking.

Oh, and the car was yellow.

y seguíamos con los ojos cerrados
sintiendo la fría brisa de diciembre
las luces a medianoche
recordándome que no estás aquí
que no estás acariciando mi cabello
y seguíamos faltándonos el respeto
por no estar juntos
por ser como somos y no permitirnos estar juntos

“es cuestión de ocasión”
dondequiera y como sea
no te dejaré ni por un segundo
pensar que la noche muere
que la luna brilla
y nosotros no estamos juntos
mirando las mismas estrellas
preguntándonos de dónde vino esto

estarás siempre
serás parte de mi
incluso estando lejos
estarás cerca de mí

I need there to be more to me.
Something that I can find in the clubs that have those beautiful galilees dancing into the mornings dew.
Those joints that say 420 isn’t a number but a religion.  (DUDE)
That bottle of jack, which I carry around at party’s that won’t leave me hitting on all of you and busting bridges left and right.
Her big brown eyes interchangeable with bright blue smiles.
Those awkward moments in each shape and form that they take.
Those ideas inside a wrapper that tell me it would feel much better if I break every bit of it.
That epic moment where my toes curl up beside yours after we have spoken our eternal vowels for that chance that even then, we will be together after you take that money off of my dresser drawer.
That I can find that good girl out there to do all those bad things I like.
That dream beyond a dream, that some loving caring, sweet women, who does not remind me of my mother, can make me laugh and wears glasses will let me *** all over them.
That imaginary disposition that tells me yesses really means no.
So I can hate myself every time you want me to be inside of you.
Those hope that my expectations will so far exceed yours.
That the bottle of Xanax’s and no dose won’t run out before the night is done.
And we wake up cold and naked with windows beaming from the flashing occurrence that daylight isn’t our enemy it is our friend.
That my ****** hunger will be enough sometime once I throw those 12 steps into it.
The hope that one-day out there I will be enough not for you but for me.
That I don’t wait for it to be a good day if you text me or not.
That moment that I will be at peace for me, not because of you.
That it doesn’t seem important for me to make you smile, laugh or cringe at my jokes.
But I say them not to be funny or win you over but for me.
And me alone.
I want it to be that day soon but I don’t work for it.
I sit on my computer screen day after day morning from night looking for videos and pictures that remind me of you.
And muddle it down in my little pink notebook with a bland ink pen.
But when I look at you and say I’m enough.
Not you.
That is my dream and will be my awakening.
I hope for that sometimes after the shame and the guilt of each utter more despicable relapse, I replicate just to look into the mirror and say when is enough going to be enough.
When will I find my *** of gold at the end of each rainbow?
I write this not for you but for me so that I can free me and hope that I am less of a painful break up to each and every one of you.
So that I can dream skip, leave and shout.
I want that to be true so bad.
But not enough, to do anything about it.
YET. But soooonnn.

With the distance you would think there'd be some type of resistance but in actuality the reality is I can't help but be persistent..
Am I existent?
I've relinquished my energy when we converse with verses the synergy creates natural remedies will you even remember me?
I'll be gone till December I know I said November but that's not the point. Do you mind if I smoke this joint so I can redirect this intellect we use to disconnect birthing a Cortex around this vortex.. am I important...

The city comes alive at 5:45 A.M.
Outside, Los Angeles
Makes her morning cup of coffee,
While I sit here,
Feeling so useless.
In a dark and silent house,
I greet the glimmer of dawn
With a false forced grin
And my eyes sunken in.
There's a whole world out there.
So much to do.
So much to see.
Infinite possibilities of what could be.
With a whole world of wonder
Just outside that door,
Why do I find myself thinking of you
And that smile that you wear
So casually like a plain white tee
Yet as elegantly as an expensive gown?
An infinite number of steps
Await me beyond this porch,
But is it worth it without you?
Is it pathetic to say
That I find it hard to take the first step
For we no longer walk same path?
No matter how hard I try
To shake the thought of having you
Out of my head
And losing you before I could show you
Just how I really feel.
I find myself trapped in a house
With no walls and no doors.
Inside of my mind.
Inside of my head.
For a few days you made my fantasy
Something real.
I miss you, I hate you.
I miss what never was.

Hot, salty tears, muddled,
with the bitter, icy spray,
enveloped by the Atlantic,
desposed by pedigree.

Peoples, of all lifetimes,
swiftly, abducted from their blood,
with lament, embraces ripped apart,
sin left disguised, ousted love.

Lumber structures, like cages,
repressing their last breaths,
left few ongoing in the waves,
desposed by traitorous men.

Forceful souls, whose tongue called out,
reshaped their gruesome plight,
to overthrow the tides and toils, who,
ousted them at the site.

Desde África, a Cuba,
y entonces a América,
los abogados se lucharon,
y tomaron un caso de libertad.

Para un barco se llama Amistad,
todos los malhechos son,
la gente Mende querían justicia,
y tomaron parte por el mundo.

I am lovely, O mortals! Like a dream carved in stone,
And my breast where poets are bruised to the bone
Formed to inspire each in their quintessence
A love as eternal and silent as essence.

I unite Ledaean pallor with a frozen heart,
I scorn movement for it displaces my art,
A riddling sphinx, on a throne in the sky;
Never do I laugh and never do I cry.

Poets, at the feet of my imperial pose,
Which I seem to adopt from statues grandiose,
Will consume their lives in studious indulgence;

For I have, to enthrall those docile paramours
Pure mirrors to enhance all beauties evermore:
My eyes, my large, wide eyes of eternal effulgence!

[IN]
Blowing up her phone for a chance to meet,
What I didn't know then; I was already beat,
Resending messages, no way I'll take defeat,
It wasn't an option, I was dying for the meat,
Spinning the wheel of fortune, I was dying for the greet,
Talking about tryna take you out in my 2seater,
Tell me where you wanna go, I’ll take you on my feet,
Said you like movies, well let'***** the theater,
Your *** is cold in that dress, I got leather heaters,
Lucky Charm on my chest & my ’01 beaters,
Movie was great but you're not sleepy,
So we hit a nearby bowling alley,
Played a few rounds & it went by speedy,
Don't forget I have to drive back to the valley,
Take your *** home, maybe you'll tell me to come in,
& that'll be the finale…

[&]
But no, you wanted more,
The nerve of some women,
I just wanted to score,
There was no way I’d go home empty-handed,
But she was really taking everything for granted,
So what's next? At my cousin's spot, we landed,
Already three in the morning, I might leave this broad stranded,
I'm getting played aren't I?
But then she complimented my eyes & my patchy beard,
I know it's all a disguise but I wasn't ready to disappear,
It was too late & she was grinding my gears,
Two dates & an after party, not even a kiss on the cheek,
& her smile was so fake, it made me so weak,
She was so fake & I was so weak…

[OUT]
We got inside in an instant, yeah I'm special treatment,
Found a few of her friends, I swear she's a demon,
It's like she knew all along that they would be present,
So she played the "I'm gonna sleep at my girl's" card,
& I'm thinking how pleasant,
I got ****** over in the blink of an eye, you'd think I learned my lesson,

I didn’t.

I paid for her hookah & her Monster too,
& she didn't look twice my way, I feel like a monster too,
I got fed up so I told her I was leaving, she gave me a handshake,
I couldn't believe it, for ****'s sake, I'm so heated,
All I could take home with me is an empty pocket & a heart on the verge of break,
I don't know how I slept through the night, woke up wishing she would've flaked,
But she didn't because she knew what she was doing,
This wasn't brand new, my confidence was ruined,
& to top it all off, she ignored my every call & text,
Probably went on to the next,
Did the same with him, now we're both in wrecks,
I feel you my G, I feel the regrets,
I was never enough but who am I kidding?
She was master of the bluff,
My homies asked how my weekend was, man that **** was rough,
Looking back at when times were so tough,
& I got every girl in the world I could imagine,
I guess it all worked out in the end,
******* JASMINE.

@moesdeph ~ http://moesdeph.tumblr.com
mmohamadali94@gmail.com

Copyright © 2015 Mohamad M. Ali. All rights reserved.

Si le sable tombait de sous mes pieds
comme j'etais courait vers tes bras,
je voudrais nage à travers la vaste mer
vagues me tirant vers le bas en l'obscurité.
j'etais dehors de toi
et pour tu, je chanterais
jusqu'à ce que ma gorge ne plus pourrait parler
et ma voix deviendrait le vent lamentations.

Before going to America, I had never experienced being in such a large cities such as LA or Denver. On the several occasions in which we were in Denver, I noticed a strange feeling of lifelessness, an air of unhappiness and a kind of mutual unimportance. It made me feel uncomfortable and I only became calm once again when we returned to the beautiful natural surroundings of Vail. Why was this the case? Why was the attitudes of people different when only driving an hour or two into the mountains?

I believe that being surrounded by the sky high concrete and metal buildings, people have become desensitized to their natural surroundings and so have also become un in-touch with their inner selves and well beings. How can someone really be in touch with themselves if they are unable to see the earth from which they came from, which is now covered in concrete? How can someone get in touch with themselves when they are unable to hear the call of a bird above the sound of cars, telling them to return to themselves?