"khalifa" poems
Grand edifices, seem pretty nice
Hoarding up money, such a heist
Pockets full, everything to boast
All that luxury, all that toast
Curtains of wealth, over those eyes
Trapped in such a state of vice
Stockpiles of silver and gold
Deal, a sign, everything sold
Wealth in reality, zero a price
Counting em, this year x thrice
Pretending to be above n bold
The stiff heart you couldn't mould
Crawling over body, ants and lice
Scorpions too, it's nothing nice
Shivering with fear and cold
The pain, agony, all foretold
In the grave, horrendous mice
Game's over for the rolling dice
No one to tell, weren't you told
To that paper now grab a hold
May it be Burj khalifa, all those malls
The huge tall towers, everything falls
Sabotag shall suffer those proud walls
(Awaits!)
The vast stage, superior than all halls
Oct 4, 2017
Oct 4, 2017 at 2:04 PM UTC
Black & Yellow
– for Wiz Khalifa ✌
*“Stay high like I’m supposed to do, that crown
underneath them clouds, can’t get close to you.”*
On the first day, he was pushed.
Robust in stance, the other forced,
this boy down the marble stairs
of the Catholic church, the school
renovated the Summer before
Khalifa began his studies,
in junior high.
The ballet was his passion,
Latin was the language that so
fluently was spoken from
his lips. The Professor smiled,
another victory accomplished.
Khalifa’s mom was so proud of
her blue eyed boy.
Rapped in a ball, he waited
for all students & halls to clear.
Rolled over, picked himself up
took to the washroom, knowing
he needed to be presentable
for his mom stood at the school gate,
brimming with pride.
All of his dreams, mystical.
Don Quixote & The Nutcracker,
fluid streams of poetry;
Elliot, Poe, Wilde. The love
letters of Ludwig van Beethoven.
Born to dance all Principal roles,
a lovers’ prose.
By four, he was ready to
leave school. Tentatively walking,
no predators in sight, out
the main door. Leaving behind
a haunting first day. Listening to
Tchaikovsky; his release, his home,
his saving grace.
© Sia Jane
Mar 14, 2015
Mar 14, 2015 at 10:38 PM UTC
Rollin B's in the Mazda, blazin
The constant high is what we're cravin
Wiz Khalifa, Lil Wayne, and Drake spitting the supa hot
Fire, lite up that ***
The smell, getting riper
Peter piper
Pack that pipe, er
Spark up, we faded
This **** is not overrated
Lite it up, we floatin
Carefree, no gloatin
Normal, what I am now
Later.... wow.
And I'm lit.
Dec 2, 2012
Dec 2, 2012 at 10:41 PM UTC
He drinks until he's throwing up,
When he's with the Taylor Gang
I read until my eyes are closed
When I'm at the library
Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 10:00 PM UTC
This is what I gotta say
Song about this rose
Thought it was dream
Dope in brain
Medicate the soul
I'm not wiz Khalifa
I have to say
i like like to get medicated
Somewhere in my soul
Let me paint a picture
She was that girl
You seen from far away
Gone at the frat castle
A diamond you could say
All blue drapped all over her
All over her
All over her
Picture perfect body
Reminds me,the work of
Michelangelo
I'm finna take a look
Take a look real quick
Sky blue eyes
Takes me to the sea
Don't hide a disguise
everything you want to be
Just Everything you see
Blue over the shoulder
Down to her waist
Wrap it up a lil bit
It's in the eye of the beholder
She was that girl
You seen from far away
Gone at imaginary palace
A diamond you could say
All blue drapped all over her
All over her
All over her
Picture perfect body
Reminds me,the work of
Lets go with monet
She know I ain't got no money
Treats me like gold
Met her with my buddy
Sailing uncontrolled
Lost in my way
You could say I was hungry
May 17, 2013
May 17, 2013 at 10:07 PM UTC
#20 | 31 Poems for August 2016
I began writing this at exactly 03:58 a.m. on a Sunday morning while listening to Charles de Gaulle to JFK by Bas.
Lately I write my most honest pieces during the early hours of Sunday mornings while everyone is still fast asleep.
Wonder what the view is like from Charles de Gaulle to JFK, 30 000 feet in the air.
But anyway, you and I still got bad blood between us like sickle-cell anaemia.
Reminiscing back when I used to be close friends with a girl named Amelia.
Guess we drifted apart as soon as I moved back to Pretoria, maybe the distance dismantled our friendship.
I’ve decided to do this all alone and if anyone’s coming along then let them come along.
I wish I could drift way with the scent of this cup of coffee but a few minutes from now it’ll be colder than your shoulder.
Always wondered if you’d head to Cape Town to go study at that school of brand leadership we always talked about.
But you chose to stay at the Pretoria campus because of certain unforeseen circumstances.
In 2014 I got accepted but unfortunately the tuition was too high like Wiz Khalifa and my mother couldn’t afford it.
That’s why I may have the perception that dreams delayed will always feel like dreams denied.
I’ve been praying for three whole years for a miracle, adjusted my faith and became more spiritual but still nothing has changed.
Guess I’m just young and unlucky; my hands are freezing and my heart is bleeding.
Navigated through space and time just to find the time to give you space.
Words unspoken make way for a silent devotion, this whole thing hurts but I try my best not to let my emotions show.
Wonder what happened, we suddenly stopped talking several months ago.
Maybe you have changed, I just hope that you’ve changed for the better.
I am slowly falling apart and all I can think about is gathering the pieces of my broken heart together.
Maybe you have changed for the better, I guess no one works that hard to stay the same.
My hands are freezing and my heart is bleeding, this whole thing hurts but I try my best not to let my emotions show.
Aug 20, 2016
Aug 20, 2016 at 10:02 AM UTC
Every morning I
jump out of an airplane with
out a parachute:
Swallows Starlings and
Ancient Sparrows caress Me
through Mt. Everest,
Humming Magpie’s hang
on to my fingertips past
Burj Khalifa in Dubai.
Plummeting over
the lark’s meadow the loon’s lake
and today seems small.
Fifteen-thousand feet
holds the rebirth of rubber
band resiliency,
Chant with my feathers
now bound to tumbling shoulder
blades like holy fowl.
Destiny a grail
all-embracing imminent
possibilities.
Morning endures as
I ascend our reflecting clouds
“Today is the day”.
Feb 17, 2018
Feb 17, 2018 at 10:22 PM UTC
Tried to focus
But you invaded my head
Memories flooding in my mind
So I wrote this poem instead
Because you are my love
And you deserve the best
Begging through forceful lunches and dinners
Longing for the back breaking beds
Sun pouring through dusty windows
Sneaking out when they never let
Elevated on high roof tops
You are more than what they said
Daily visits to the Lulu market
There wasn't a thing I didn't get
Warm nights at the Khalifa park
Watching the joyful kids scream
The illuminating soccer stadium
Glowing on the faces of a determined team
The sun blazing on my skin
The stray cats with pleading eyes
The dust dancing with the wind
Twisting and turning in the blue sky
Suitcases filled with memories
As I stepped onto the plane
Hoping for another visit
My precious Bahrain.
Dec 30, 2014
Dec 30, 2014 at 1:13 AM UTC
Dear Patti, we miss you
We miss you so much
That there is a gaping hole
Taller than the Burj Khalifa
Left by your absence
Not a soul can replace you
You were one of a kind
Dear Patti, we miss you
You were always there for us
Whether it be the immediate family
Whether it be close relatives
Whether it be friends
So much so
That your presence was taken for granted
Dear Patti, we miss you
From your words of wisdom
To your unconditional support
From your sheer optimism
To your never-say-die spirit
From your delicious meals
To your spooky tales
From your knowledge of various topics
Whether it be cricket
Whether it be politics
Whether it be trains
To your unwavering enthusiasm
Dear Patti, we miss you
I still remember the day
As though it were only yesterday
When my dear friend
Was hopelessly marooned in her hostel
During the peak of the Chennai floods
Along with her family
It was your unconditional love
That saved the day
And my friend and her family
Can never forget you
Not just because of your timely help
But also because, to you
They were also family
Dear Patti, we miss you
You left us so soon
That we had no time to say goodbye
But you should know this
You will always live in our hearts
As a grandmother
As a mother
As a wife
As a sister
As an aunt
As a dear friend
And finally
As a human being
A very beautiful human being
Nov 5, 2021
Nov 5, 2021 at 9:51 PM UTC
My romeo
You've been all I got
All ferocity I had
Phantasm all over my head
All I hear is your moan in my bed
A pure lust to be said
And a first blood to be shed
is it okay to be you modern mia khalifa?
and makeout in the sofa
Till the endless night
and ends in a cuddles so tight
mellifluous sound from his mouth
when all I can do is to shout
a night to remember
till I spend my life with him forever
Sep 1, 2017
Sep 1, 2017 at 9:07 AM UTC
9:23 i threw a piece of cake at my dad
9:40 i am trying to climb up the wall to the beat of *** drop by wiz khalifa
9:52 my girlfriend is asleep so im just ************ to ****
9:54 i can't get off so i start singing *** drop by wiz khalifa very loudly
9:56 my dad yelled at me for singing
10:15 the whole kitchen is clean now and i run back upstairs
10:19 exchange with my mom goes really bad we are mad at each other now
10:21 slamming my door shut three times because the wall shook really hard the first time
10:45 and no one is awake and no one is talking to me and i am alone
3:45 i am watching intervention and sobbing because the alcoholic socialite is more beautiful than i will ever be
3:58 google search: ptsd flashback racing thoughts grounding skills creative
4:00 surprise surprise the internet has disappointed me i can't breathe
4:12 i'm writing a poem about bipolar disorder because at least maybe it'll get me some attention
Aug 4, 2015
Aug 4, 2015 at 4:12 AM UTC
"It's been a long day without you my friend,
and I'll tell you all about it when I see you again." - Wiz Khalifa, 'See You Again.'
I think of you every day. There hasn't been one day where you haven't stomped your combat boots around the darkness of my mind.
Yesterday was a bad day where everything especially reminded me of you; you, who shot himself in the head earlier this year. I woke up this morning frantically searching for my phone to go on Facebook in a panic because I had a very real-feeling dream where another friend killed herself, too. I wanted to hold her hand and kiss her sweet face. I wanted to ask her why she didn't tell me. I wouldn't have stopped her, I would've held her hand and jumped off that bridge with her.
I woke up feeling like my chest was collapsing and I found out that it wasn't true, but I am still without you and
I don't know what makes me sadder, the fact that I can't let you go, or the fact that I'm still ******* here. Even my body rebels against me, against my attempts to strip this universe of my existence.
I don’t know what makes me madder, people, or having to act like everything is okay.
I go through the motions, I follow routine, but there's nothing inside. (The lights are on, but nobody's home.)
You are a ghost, but you are the man that I love most. Try as I might, but I can't let you go. It's been 9 months, minus 2 days and I have missed you for every. single. moment.
It's not fair. 19.5 years is not long enough for a good person to live. What have you endured that has broken you? Are they like what has broken me? There's so many unanswered questions, you robbed those you left behind of their answers. There's so much of life you will never see. You'll never get that house with the white picket fence, no dogs or cats, no kisses or impromptu late night walks to nowhere, no wishes of 'goodnight's and 'good luck's (Hell, no one even got as far as the last chance for 'goodbye.'), but then again, neither will I.
You haunt me. I would ask--I would beg--if you could please visit me in my sleep, but I don't sleep so much anymore.
// (I don't believe in any biblical Heaven or Hell, but if there is somewhere good people go after they die, I hope it is each person's personalised halcyon. I hope you finally received the freedom, happiness, and love that you did not in this life. If you are short, I will see you soon, and I will bring all of the third.)
Nov 10, 2015
Nov 10, 2015 at 6:55 AM UTC
Her name is Anima
And she's not Maria Clara
Nor mia khalifa
She's a girl with class
She's so sensitive like glass
And when she reply my heart beat is in blast
I don't want to rush
But everytime she calls me baby everything is like flash
Hit me like bass
I know this feeling will not last
But this is not just a crush
Cupid's arrow is just so fast
I try to run
Thinking the moon is not for the sun
This is like a game of guns
My heart is the prize
And who lose she will lost her life
I don't wanna lose
But just staring at you
I'm overdosed
Mar 9, 2019
Mar 9, 2019 at 6:30 AM UTC
I can’t wish for the World to be a better place because my own world has shrunk to a micro system
One whose centre of gravity is me
My headaches are millions of gases wrapped around a ball of crystal to constitute my stars
My heartaches is a mighty globe called the sun
Trials and tribulations are daily feeds
How am I then supposed to emphasize with CNN
Forgive my selfishness but right now this World isn’t giving me anything
Instead it takes, takes, takes
My galaxy multiplies a million times over and no one bothers to understand
No one tried to understand,
Not the people who sing their love for me, not God
What should I do?
I can’t even protest, can you hate God? Can you hate life?
I don’t even want answer to that question,
I want solutions
I don’t want to look at that brutal end as an exit,
I want to live life
I want to hear the first three bars of Wiz Khalifa’s maan and enjoy it like every other person my age
I think I don’t know what I want or how to get it,
I think poetry isn’t the consolation I expected,
I am more scared and depressed than I have ever been but…..
I know there is that little glimmer of hope
That miniature relief that lightens my micro system from time to time
I know it would rear its head pretty soon
If not today, then maybe tomorrow
I’d be patient and await its coming because I know deep down that no matter how or murky it get,
Once a while people would turn up
People who truly understand and care,
People who wouldn’t judge
People I’d like to start afresh with
Then a whole new galaxy would be born
And yes
It’d be beautiful just like me both inside and outside
:-*
Nov 24, 2014
Nov 24, 2014 at 3:28 AM UTC
Not much of a reader hey,
Haven’t even touched a book
Or felt shook
From a good old story,
Even the books that are so gory
Don’t even make you feel sorry,
Poor character
We all have a story within us
Maybe it starts off by
Going on the bus,
And having a big sigh....
Of relief
Oh but there’s Wiz Khalifa
And I gotta say hi
Gotta get an autograph
But than there’s life
Where we have to learn to exist
And not take the exit
Be a little gallant
We are a fan of people’s talent
look at spider man
Scared of 8 legged creatures
But when it turns into a person, we’re in love
aka Tom Holland
The adventure goes on in Canada,
Doing linear algebra, don’t think I’ll ever need that
the third law of motion to every reaction there’s always an equal &
Opposite reaction
Wow that was Newton
Every new day is a restart
Where new things get sparked
Be the firework & ignite the light
Woah did I just reference Katy Perry
Don’t be like Tom and Jerry
Instead maybe get a date in February
Watch the void of sunsets
And lets not have regrets this time
Here Have some key-lime pie
After all, we only live once
Do those stunts
Dunk that basketball
Lebron James will be proud
A new day gives you many chances to create new story pieces
So tell me what is your story?
Is it filled with glory? Captivate me
Because when you grow old
And see the last piece of your hair fall out There always comes an end
To a good old story
You were the life of the party
So rest in peace
As you are the story to my life
That I’ll never stop reading
Mar 11, 2019
Mar 11, 2019 at 6:00 AM UTC
I'm trying to learn that it's alright for people to find me
strange.
So often I am met with remarks of:
"I wish I could be as confident as you."
"I can't believe you're not scared to wear that."
"You didn't really say that to him...right?"
I don't feel confident.
I am scared.
I did say it.
I've regretted it since.
Oddities are a novelty until they surpass an acceptable monthly quota.
However,
I've found that habitual marijuana usage and
pretty white lines
can be a valid excuse for
strange behavior.
Each joint shared
Each liquor bottle opened
Increases the monthly quota by one.
You're allowed to be:
"Off."
"Eccentric."
"Weird."
If you're a substance abuser.
It's actually
expected
at times.
If I act too normal, I'll get
comments,
such as:
"Wow, I forgot you do drugs."
"Do you not need your meds anymore?"
"Have you thought your mania is just from all the ***
I didn't forget.
I do need them. I often don't take them.
And, sometimes.
But then I'll soberly proclaim to be the next Van Gogh and that my **** are nicer than
Mia Khalifa's.
(They're not.)
Regardless,
you can write off absurd behavior
if it occurs while
intoxicated.
I learned that younger
than I
should've.
It's harder to refute the confused glances
whispered jokes
when your head is
clear
but your
heart
is foggy.
"Let us know if [ ] scares you in the group chat;
you'll get used to her eventually."
"I hope we don't have to have this conversation again."
"She's hot, but she's kind of
crazy."
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
Jul 28, 2020
Jul 28, 2020 at 7:30 AM UTC
No dream is too big... No target is beyond reach... if you dreamed of changing the world and you find yourself too cornered, change someone's world and that will count... If you wanted to be a philanthropist, donate the little you have to whoever's in need and it will count...if you wanted to be the rose of kindness in the garden of humanity, blossom amongst your folks and it will count... If you wanted to be the greatest president, be a great boyfriend, father, uncle, aunt, mother, girlfriend and it will count... Having dreams and failing to score them should not break you, you won't be the first to never win the race you wanted, always be happy that you tried, appreciate the far that you could go...
If you cannot build the burg khalifa or the landmark plaza you always wanted, build what you can and plaza it, it sure will count for life was not supposed to be about the impression we leave in others, that was never the original plan, at some point this life is all about you and what you choose to do with it and how the end result makes you feel... As long as you feel complete, the rest doesn't really matter... No dream is too big, and not achieving a big dream you tried so hard to catch is part of the game, there is no victory without failure... Failure is success to those who put in their best and it did not just work out...
Mar 12, 2017
Mar 12, 2017 at 5:23 PM UTC
Celestial Sodomites, decant your debaucheries carefully. Here Dionysus lies -- 1969-1969. Summer sunshine sexcapades. I have been sent by the true Khalifa, supreme placeholder, perpetual nihil to sever defunct neurological pathways and lead to the pearly gates of emotional wounding. Please, open your hearts and pray with me.
Aug 2, 2017
Aug 2, 2017 at 6:56 AM UTC
the gloomy eye,
carved from
within the fog;
high-brow culture,
met with
stern-brow
concentration...
better the world
not know me,
and i,
not know the world...
for the lives worth
a tomorrow;
of today?
i am, standing still..
not, leisured,
to encompass
a copper craft
worth of a statue...
to take,
is not the same as
to grasp...
i pity
the muslims...
they have a library
with but one book...
the quran...
one book constitutes
a "library"...
and i am supposed
to fear, a man, with only
one book?!
i pity him...
because who wrote
the first surahs?!
Khadija!
surd the H, and twist the Jot
into a branching tree of Y -
kādíyā(h) -
i thought that muhammad was
illiterate?!
huh?!
was i wrong?
if ever shakespeare
were to be resurrected,
then came the play:
the merchant of mecca.
i am to fear a man with
a library containing but one book?!
**** should have learned
to throw dice or
play chess than
attempt to ever be pardoned with
an ability, to read.
but sure as ****
the illiterate prophet of islam
needed his first wife, khadija
to write the first surahs...
since she was literate
and he wasn't,
and he wasn't,
and he wasn't...
because the story tells us
that he wasn't...
believe the story of
"literacy" from an illiterate prophet...
only in arabia, with lawrence to boot...
i'm just gagging the laughter
in my grave, when the oil runs out.
look at my itchy fingers
pretending to wave:
itching a fizzling out
of vanity projects...
they built
the burj khalifa...
i grew a beard.
Mar 15, 2018
Mar 15, 2018 at 11:01 PM UTC
Blooming flowers in desert land
Stretching greenery in yellow sand
Camel, date and oil wells
It’s just a past that history tells
Today it marked proudly its name
On top of the world in progress and fame
Arts,science and modern education
Speedy growth in space mission
Different people from different region
Varied culture, diction and religion
Bedecking them on its forehead
Glittering all as bright as rubi red
Center of tourism and trade
Points of entertainment are great
Touching the sky , burj khalifa’s height
Simply amazing palm islands site
Law and orders, duties and rights
All are equal , no compromise
Integrity, vision and commitment
Strong Tools of a great government
Busy and lively roads
With safety and peace both
East and West mingle nicely
Smiley faces twinkle brightly
Eid, onam , Diwali and Christmas
Melody of festivities bring happiness
Carving globally its place
We salute Arab Emirates
“ Shabistan @
Feb 14, 2021
Feb 14, 2021 at 12:48 PM UTC