"sami" poems
Ngiyakuthanda. Ukuba nginepeni nephepha ngabe ngihlezi phansi ngidansisa ipeni ngaphandle komculo ngikubhalela lenkondlo yothando!
Kondlo lena akuyona inkondlo.
Lena into ephuma kimi uqobo.
Ngoba inkondlo ikhuluma ngamaphupho necabango engasoze yafezeka nothando oluhambiselana nemigomo nemibandela.
Manje mina angiluphuphi uthando lwami ngawe ngiyalwazi lukhona. Angicabangi ukuthi ngyakuthanda kodwa ngyazi ngyakuthanda ingakoke ngi
Ngeke ngiqambe amanga kuwe ngithi ngeke ngiphile ngaphandle kwakho, ngingaphile, ukuthi nje impilo ingaphileka kangcono nginawe.
Ngeke ngikuqambele amanga ngithi ayikho enye into engiyicabangayo ngaphandle kwakho ekubeni kukuningi okunye engikucabangayo, ukuthi nje imicabango enawe iyintokozo nenjabulo kimina.
Ngeke ngiqambe amanga ngithi akulaleki ngicabanga wena, ukuthi nje ngilala kangcono ngicabanga wena. Ngeke ngiqamba amanga ngithi, ngendlela engikuthanda ngayo ngingatshela umhlaba wonke ngoba angeke ngikwenze lokho, kodwa umhlaba ozozibonela wona ukuthi ngiyakuthanda.
Ngalokho futhi ngizishaya isifuba. Empelini mina engizama ukukusho ukuthi ngyakuthanda.
Uyihlolo nonyoko bazala ingelosi sekusele nje ungivezele lezimpiko ozifihlile.
Sthandwa sami ngiyakuthanda, angizenzisi, kodwa kusuka ngaphakathi kimi.
Ngaso sonke isikhathi wakhumbula la mazwi ami, ngiyakuthanda.
Oct 3, 2017
Oct 3, 2017 at 2:16 AM UTC
This is a thoroughly post-modern phenomenon.
[Breathe, don't be nervous. It's fine. Wallah, you're not doing anything wrong.]
Digitally arranged meetings with ostensible strangers yet with more familiarity than our ancestors could imagine.
An arranged meeting,
a warm greeting,
a sensing,
a feeling.
“Are you Sami?”
“I am,” as I posture for a hug.
[She’s actually more beautiful than I expected. Her ample curls smell like conditioner and sunshine.]
“So you’re Kuwaiti?"
"Yea, I moved here when I was 18, to Kansas of all places."
"To be honest, I had to look up the emoji flag from your profile. My Muslim WhatsApp group helped me out.”
“Oh, okay. So you’re Muslim?”
“Yea, I was raised Muslim; my mom married a Kuwaiti in the 80s, blah blah blah.”
“What? Your mom lived in Kuwait?”
“Yea, kinda crazy, I know, but it’s a small world.”
[Small worlds make the gaps between souls smaller.
Who knew such a small place could leave such a big impact on so many lives?
Certainly neither of us.
Serendipity?
Allah y3alam.]
“Why do lesbians discriminate against bisexuals? You’d think of all people, they wouldn’t be so judgmental.”
“You’d think, but you’d be wrong. It’s like we have a plague.” Her voice goes on, but my mind drifts off.
[Tortoise-shell glasses, beautiful lashes, manicured eyebrows that frame flickering dark eyes, encased in a forest of curls, legging laced thighs, oh my. ::Deepsigh. Pay attention to what she’s saying! Oh my, she’s my type. This is bad. No, no, hamdilah, this is good.]
“Do you want another round?” the bar keep’s inquiry snaps me back to reality. I interrupt to suggest a change of location. [Perhaps something less commercial, less public, less straight, more private, and more intimate.]
“It’s only a short walk.”
“Yea, let’s do it.”
[By short walk, I mean three doors down from the bar. The perks of suggesting the venue.]
“Shoes off?”
“Yea, it’s habit, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course not.”
She sits, crosses her long legs, and gives me this look. My heart flutters; I remember my manners:
“Can I make you a drink? What’s your poison? Gin or *****
I mix our drinks and think:
[She must like me.
This is good.
I’m glad we did this digital dance to find romance.
What a treasure, finding this post-modern habibi.
Alhamdulilah,
Lucky me.]
Sep 11, 2017
Sep 11, 2017 at 1:36 PM UTC
i sat there mystified,
my eyes lost in hers.
i searched fruitlessly for something witty to say,
trying to coax out a smile, a laugh.
as her quiet discontentment radiated outward,
i yearned to pick the right words,
some way to calm the storm brewing.
my thoughts flickered to earlier that day:
her eyes, deep, sparkling jewels.
her hair framing every stunning feature of her face.
her laugh, a luxurious liqueur,
and i longed to drink and drink and drink.
all i wished to do, was to bring her to that place again,
to bring her joy; to make her happy.
May 9, 2010
May 9, 2010 at 9:49 PM UTC
In her bedroom she sits
Red knit cap upon her head
Windows serve no satisfaction
To her wish to play outside
Sickness envelops her bones
Her venom she can't see past
Seeking scabbed knees and mud on her shoes
Yet she sees tubes
Tufts of hair misplaced
Blonde curls to the ground
Holding on to hope
With a white flag in her other hand
Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 1:00 AM UTC
Usred noći nagon me probudi
Moram na WC na visokoj sam uzbudi
Svjetlo palit odlučio sam neću
No nasred hodnika suze mi poteću
Na kraju hodnika On tamo stoji
Zovem psa u pomoć on se ničega ne boji
Na poziv upomoć on se nije odozvao
Čak i i nakon obećanja keksa nije se pojavio
Sada ja i Slenderman smo ostali sami
Prokleti lik koji stanuje u tami
Zajebi ti ovo, pišat više nemoram
Sad svaki put iz sobe sjekiru furam
Pod plahte skrivao sam se uplačen
ovu avanturu ponovit ne želim
Opran paranojom sada ti kažem
Iz ove kuće se što prije selim
Feb 24, 2018
Feb 24, 2018 at 7:44 AM UTC
Ať už jsem, kdo jsem, co já vím,
Víš, že nikomu na světě
nepřála bych být tak sám
Přesto všichni jsme sami
a jsme tady spolu
A housle hrají nám
do rytmu kroků
A doprovázeny
vlastním bitím srdce
Zanikají tóny ve vlastní hloubce.
Dec 18, 2016
Dec 18, 2016 at 5:11 PM UTC
daleka su duboka mora u nama
o srčane obale udaraju talasi samoće
na hladnim se vetrovima njišemo
suvi su naši pogledi u tami
zimsko nas nebo posmatra
hodamo nemim ulicama noći
u nama ledeni bregovi plove
pričaš mi o snegovima koji su tvoje gradili
pričam ti o brodovima koje su moji potopili
u glasu su nam zarobljeni snovi nedosanjani
u grlu nam se guše reči nedovršene
neostvareni zagrljaji plaču između nas
u kasno svitanje rastaju se naši strahovi
među senkama spava tanani sudar usana
u novom jutru ostaju isti sami svetovi
tvoj
i
moj
Jan 2, 2019
Jan 2, 2019 at 10:50 AM UTC
Twelve moons of the twentieth order
Ignite a long awaited transition
Which allows a thickened slender
Of the existence of a compound creation.
Awarded by time, one of your selves
Has held the joy of recalling liberation
From the prison everyone deserves
For the grand initiation.
The significance is obscured in your smile
That has abandoned your wrinkling face,
Due to a foolish old juvenile,
Seeking silver in gold’s place.
Your meadow is flooded and filled with mire
Your wise fool has poisoned your feast
And a despairing sorrow is all he can perspire.
Nevertheless, cherish this day Sthandwa sami.
Feb 8, 2019
Feb 8, 2019 at 9:01 AM UTC
*supermarket conversation:
tarah: matt, you feeling o.k.?
matt (me): i've been fasting, low blood sugar level.
tarah: why?
matt (me): i don't know... i could blame it on easter.*
what are these addicts doing here?
am i selling ******* am i selling ******
what are these people doing here?
is my writing as addictive as to attract 20 or more
so people like it might be expecting a harry potter
instalment?
is that code for: also dr. seuess?
is my writing a bit like selling drugs?
dunno... ever heard the kresy accent
from sami swoi (1967)?
- or that note that greeks have about
the turks having "constantinople"...
i don't hear a lot of ******** about
lwów / l'viv: lion: lew (lev).
i could listen to a greek gay provocator
nagging about this sentiment ringing true
toward the passing of the next two centuries...
but this is an anglophone world
after all... who the **** gives a **** about
Lviv ever belonging to poland?
next time you hear an advert to
become a tourist in cuba... or costa rica...
so **** you! eat yer bananas!
get yer suntan... and shove your cultural darwinism
where the sun doth shine...
and then choke...
on edgy popcorn where 3 ***** croaked for a
forlorn sun
to exhibit the morn...
such suns are only worth the set,
or known egyptian ugly σεθ...
and nothing else...
but then again: working out and
the cult of the gym is as ugly as any other that
might provide us with arguments against
the gluttons;
where's the cue prompt at which i start laughing?
małgorzata kożuchowska, maybe, someday,
but obviously never. what? you were expecting
a daydream involving paris hilton?! eh?!
Mar 31, 2017
Mar 31, 2017 at 7:49 PM UTC