#aeroplane
I love this feeling
But at the same time
It feels foreign
I question whether I belong
Whether I am deserving of it
I tell myself
The goal is to become seasoned
So that it all feels like every time
And that it becomes a habit
But I'm just sixteen
And I feel so awkward.
I smile so sweetly
Hoping it covers up my irregularities
Hoping I don't make it too awkward
Hoping I'm not as weird as I feel
I cringe at myself, honestly
Why do I stutter when I read
What has become of me?
Why am I so dumb, honestly?
Even the air hostess
Smiles at me knowingly
I'm just a dumb child
Travelling in Business class
With my parents' money
Even the steward was judging me
Why am I in Business
When they are in Economy
This feels so foreign
Because I don't belong here
I belong back there
With my mom and my brother
And I feel so ******* guilty
Before, I felt so excited
And now I just want to be with my family
But it's fine, it's just two and a half hours
Sleep still evades me.
May 20
May 20, 2026 at 11:51 AM UTC
Inside cockpit command control, a proud young captain sits fiddling with his tie. Out on the runway, a parade of boisterous holiday makers stream through a wall of steamy-sticky heat.
A scraping of cases amid jubilant faces, as they flock to their seats in frantic fashion. Offering warm greetings, the sun spreads its orange glow; kissing the face of many a passenger.
Raucous voices become feeble mutterings, drowned by roaring engines. Knuckles white as chalk from clenched fists: an anxiety that is to be short-lived.
We ascend to the clouds, above motorways and mountains; entering an endless wash of blue. Smiles chucked around like confetti bringing a sense of: new opportunity, hope and adventure. As we rise above.
Jul 10, 2021
Jul 10, 2021 at 1:29 PM UTC
From one country to another.
From one air to another.
From one heart to another.
I settle down from the sky to the ground.
I miss the people back home,
I miss the familiarity
I reminisces the beauty of the place
I called home.
It takes time to settle
my emotions
and life.
But then as I roam,
I fall in love with the intricacies.
I see the hidden beauty of the country.
As I meet people,
I start building homes in their heart.
And as I breathe the air,
I start to feel like this is home.
But as soon as I felt I was settling in,
when I was finally falling in love,
I have to leave.
I feel my deep intertwined roots in
people's hearts being pulled away.
I feel my heart breaking into pieces
as my hesitant hellos
become aching goodbyes.
My heart has become a hollow,
transitioning swiftly from emotional
to emotionless.
I feel alone once more,
as I depart from the ground back to the sky.
But I know, this cycle would repeat once more.
Jul 24, 2019
Jul 24, 2019 at 2:53 PM UTC
the calm synth exhales.
i close my eyes as the rumble of the wheels turn.
palms face up on my lap, i pray.
señor, cuídame en este viaje.
estás conmigo.
inhala; exhala.
my stomach dips with the beat,
the bass picks up & so do we,
right on cue in perfect harmony.
i’m not scared of flying.
i found a peace in that moment
where the song, the sky & my soul
snapped into sync so smoothly
that i sighed in serenity.
i’m not scared of flying,
but sometimes of where i’m going,
& of what lies ahead.
but let me have this moment,
where daniel & kali
soar through the clouds with me,
where everything seems to click.
let me breathe,
despite the lack of oxygen outside.
& save a seat for Him.
~ pilot of life, perfect attendant & guiding wind.
Jul 10, 2019
Jul 10, 2019 at 1:58 PM UTC
Every word we pen
is an extension of self.
For we are a looking glass
on the world around us.
Some times dark
others times woven in delight.
Never throw away your words,
just change them.
Do not scrunch the paper up,
mould it to a paper aeroplane
and watch where your words soar too..
Mar 21, 2019
Mar 21, 2019 at 9:06 AM UTC
and i put my phone in aeroplane mode
so i dont hear it when you dont call.
is that selfishness
or self protection.
Oct 16, 2018
Oct 16, 2018 at 3:07 AM UTC
Cloud Trick
I am writing on a plane:
An airbus A380 cruising
Through the emptied rooms of heaven -
The place seems larger,
Now there's no one living here.
The clouds below are thick
And suddenly I wonder:
Why is it, every time I fly,
I cannot see the land below?
Yet when I look up from the ground
I often see the aeroplanes,
Travelling through an open sky,
Angels encased in corporate livery.
Now, in my seat by the window,
Staring down,
I see little specks of light -
Perturbations in my visual senses -
Errors of the mind -
Highlighted on the canvas of the air -
And on these flickers of illusion I fixate.
What if there is no land below?
Could it be that every flight we take,
Is a computer-generated fantasy?
An elaborate scheme dreamt up
By secret powers,
Who wish us to believe in forces
Beyond all reach of human mastery?
Maybe they catapult us
To this virtual place -
A hologram of God's old house,
Designed to bring the memory near:
The hope that humanity might have
A parent in the atmosphere.
Then,
Upon taking us up
To the promised land
They showcase the sacred vacancy
Of all our dreams of paradise.
Just as I begin to fall
Into the particulars
Of this miraculous conspiracy
I stop, and realise how poor I am -
I always buy the cheapest flight:
Always leaving early in the morning,
Just at the end of the night...
Do clouds form like dew
In the darkness?
As the Earth spins,
Are its hemispheres
Alternately cloaked in veils of white,
Like an eye that opens and closes
In both directions?
What I would give to witness that.
Jul 26, 2017
Jul 26, 2017 at 1:40 PM UTC
One is the glider,
And one is the gust,
And the cliff is the question:
Trust land or trust ******
It depends on the wind,
And the wings,
And the rider:
Not their skill;
But their union -
One was built for the other.
But if the plane was built wrong -
Built wrong for the breeze -
(For the breeze it was built for!)
Then here's our message for the air:
For the love of your nature,
Give the glider to the sea!
Let canvas rip on water's flame,
And writhing currents cut
And fracture frame.
For you were conjured to fly higher;
And the pilot isn't fooled;
The pilot's watching other lovers
As they escape into the sun!
Grateful to be in flight,
But always with an eye
To greater, warmer height...
We know it's hard to let them fall,
For an airman dropped amongst the waves
Is left to die or swim to shore,
And if they make it to the beach,
You know the tattered remnants
Of their aircraft's waiting there,
Waiting to be built renewed
Built stronger on a memory
Of the time they flew on you
But let them fall
You must or you die
For the waters are coming
And also:
Death can fly.
Jun 22, 2017
Jun 22, 2017 at 1:58 PM UTC
Hope's expectation is
Carried by the wind,
A turbulent sky's ocean,
&
A heaven of jetted wings.
© Qwey.ku
Aug 14, 2016
Aug 14, 2016 at 2:28 AM UTC
She is the plane you are crashing.
The rusting, dusty ex-service plane
that you took on and rebuilt.
Inch
by
inch
she improved.
You did not merely add a lick of paint, making her glow
whilst her engine only rotted further.
You dug deep to the root of the problem and
once you were done you flew her
up,
up,
up,
and higher.
She is the plane you are crashing
She is spiralling down whilst onlookers frown
and murmur and comment
on the bullet shaped holes in the fuselage.
Yet they did not look close enough and failed to see
the absence
of the most important component to a healthy, working plane.
Further inspection of the flaming cockpit reveals the
replaced buttons and stickers,
now covered in safety measures of no use.
If you press the wrong button
this creature will explode
around you and
for everybody to see.
They will point and they will laugh.
They will point the finger of blame.
Yet nobody thinks to question the absence of the most important component to a healthy, working plane.
Nobody thinks to question the absence of the pilot.
The pilot of the plane he was crashing.
Aug 25, 2015
Aug 25, 2015 at 10:10 PM UTC
Suspended for a time above the clouds
In my jet-bird – My, it's loud
Watching the world below, pass me by
While I am sitting here, way up in the sky
Cocooned in my well-appointed seat
I try very carefully to stretch my feet
Passing the time for 12 hours straight
When I get there, it's going to be late
Get on in the morning, get off when light's low
Get on in the sun, get off in the snow
What wonders I'll see when I roam Celtic lands
What wonders I'll bring back to South Africa's sands
Feb 22, 2015
Feb 22, 2015 at 5:22 AM UTC
People moving in
With their suitcases on board
Standing everywhere
Fumbling to their seats.
"MAY I SEE YOUR BOARDING PASS?"
Yes please.
Plane flies on the runaway
Diving into the clouds
Into a puff of wind
and smoke.
We fly.
I sat unmoved
For the rest of 16 hours.
I thought I had been fossilized.
Hardened.
But I saw it flying
Us flying to mi casa
Time is rolling backwards
My lips tugging backwards
No more jetlagging.
I held on to a light of a hope
with a lopsided grin.
Perhaps,
It's time to say hello
To the land long forgotten
The land with cozy saturday mornings
Where we have dinner at 7pm, not 9.
The land that I long to be in
Where I had been long gone
is 60 minutes apart.
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 4:26 PM UTC