The world was made to break you
But you don't have to agree
Do not side with those against your truth
It is not you against me
It is us against the world
The two of us to defy the odds
For many years, I was alone
I alone, to pay the cost
Prove to me that love is real
I hold scars only you can sooth
My greatest pain comes from inside
Now I know what to ask from you
Sing me compliments and affirmations
To replace the screams of hatred
Hold me tight yet oh so gently
The gesture has been long belated
Stand with me with our heads held high
For you and I will rewrite the world
Finally standing on the same page
Restarting the memoir of this girl
Allaround me, an endless realm
In you I see me.
Reminiscences. Art. Love
Between those two pages
of an abandoned book,
over my messed up table.
a moment is kept,
pious and complete.
A memoir of
younghood and innocence,
and emotions of being worthy,
It is safe within those pages.
A long journey
Since then, but
all passed, in a moment.
while we stayed awake.
May be some day,
it would be opened
to see and cherish.
what we had,
and what could be hold.
all those who want to try
to write a
6 word memoir.
Example: Life is short. Make it fair.
Be that one bright shining star.
Friends. Family. The candles of life.
Be that crow in the seagulls.
I was doing this for class not to long ago and just wanted to see what my fellow poets could come up with.
Set me free
Let me be
Can’t you see
Everything you’ve done to me
Your words cut through
Making me so blue
Remembering every hit
And all of the words you’d spit
Your anger exploded
Your heart imploded
Throwing a fist
I felt I barely missed
It started with the wall
When things began to fall
Then it moved to your head
While you were crying in bed
The world’s spinning
Set me free
Let me be
After all the things you’ve done to me?
How you could even expect it not to be
Our love affair was not fair
More like a war
And oh it tore
Through my heart
You ripped apart
But love still swarmed
Because I believed you were still warm
Little did I know
It was just another show
A bit from my memoir I had to right for school.
I find myself stopping in a crowd of people and time slows still. Their laughter, their unpredictable movements, the fights and the resolutions and the bonding of brothers--all quiet. I am left in the fabric of things to wonder at the tapestry we call a culture.
How am I to know what is proper when all have their own true mothertongue? Who can teach me what to say when all I know is jumbled and disheveled based on who I've been and what I know?
I leave behind a southern legacy of liturgy and doctrine that outlines exactly what is human and exactly what is not. I step into a society that constantly years to fill a void--please Lord, find us someone who knows the Truth.
Their apathy and nonchalance is false; bravado is left wanting. I know they they all cry out for connection and seek it in flesh rather than spirit. I am caught in the midst of the pursuit of happiness and the quest for morality. I know not what brings joy to humanity, I hike towards that river and hope it is not run dry like all others.
In the study of psychology, I have found so many places where words fall short and the great carnal animal within all of us takes precedence, demands attention, seeking comfort in a world that often overlooks those that need it the most.
Love is a fragile, timid thing that is most often hard to find and difficult to voice. Instead, we lash out in aggression to hide that inner child that needs a tried and true comfort of a known embrace. We seek forgiveness and express it in anger, manipulation, meeting our needs however possible because this is America, after all.
This is all we want in our sequestered human heart, the beginning of redemption.
Oh the sadness Is fading away to happier days
to now I remember you
my Sweetheart those lovely days wrapped
Oh the sadness fading away so fast any sorrow soon now
It's only happy times I remember now of the
times we first stepped out together
Sadness Is long gone now and I think of
I remember those times
we made love for sadness as finally left me
Sadness Helen has passed yous think of better days a head
I SEE the streets
Reviving in Mohamed V avenue
and I SEE..You..reluctant pigeons
picking, beaking bread crumbs off the grass and palm trees are witnesses that I meant no harm
I SEE You my lonely friend; Pigeon
Sunbathing next to a dry, abundant fountain of nothingness
You speeding engines, cars and buses
You occupied and empty benches
You loners and lovers. Friends and couples
And I SEE and I FEEL You prayers, rising in the sky
From the mosques, synagogues and churches
I SEE Medina walls and gates
defying time and watching over
The comers and goers
As a painting worthiness rise
I SEE and I HEAR West-African, Gnawa Sintir
And Gnawa cymbals -Krakebs- shrilled
A hypnotic tone; A spiritual ritualistic music
Which with each rhythmical hit on the drum
Comes out a heartbeat of life.
The wanderer's memoir 05: Reading The Madman
You asked me on dreams:
Wandering in the landscape of my sleep
Seeking for the meaning in oak trees
Leaves strummed a strangely soothing rustles
And twigs snapped at me, under my feet; My apologies
Too late. It fell in an irreversible, absolute silence.
A pure, verboten green lands
Hovering in the everlasting stillness
A book in my hands, folding time in an oblivious state
Under the gentleness of a shadowing tree
Holding me under its arborescent wings
Nature sheltered me in it's nest as towhee's offsprings
And The rays-the fine golden strings-
Perched on my genuineness as a kiss on my maskless face.
I kneeled for the shining blanket in the obscure mattress
Before it went away with the grass
Flickering between autumns and springs.
A beautiful scenery of pine trees forest that I replaced with oak trees.
Gibran Khalil Gibran - The Madman
....I need to write this down
I need a pen, no, I need a book
I don't need anything at all
I need to think
I made my life a poem, a novel
Or nothing at all; Impossible
I need to write
How to enjoy my life
Standing on a sharp edge of the knife
So I wrote;
I drew a straight chronoLINE
On its sides I drew buildings
A city in my psyche, prosper and grow
I wasn't much of a reader
So I read to write
So whenever I think, I think Gibran
On life, smiles and tears
Way over my league but I try
But, when I linger and cry
Poe's raven cawed 'Nevermore'
And when I am depressed
I feel..laying on Anne Sexton's grass of blades
But I..remember other's changing words like Daniel Moore's
Whenever I feel HAPPY
I become the king, the stone
Of R.L.Stevenson and Dickinson
So I read and write
Sweep and rinse; making sense??
When I wander I wander with Whiteman to be inspired
And inspire others with my writings
As I am inspired
I need to write Yeats
So whenever I write, while I am sleepy
I write my tender dreams