"sandstorms" poems
Broke the straw across her back,
so she snapped, never turning back
Bruised her arm by joking accident
with all the malice of death’s intent.
No natural love or paternal instinct
to catch
the tears she’s choked
with your hands on her throat.
Touch her again and the demons will get you
tell her to end herself before you do;
and the death you deserve will befall you
slow, alone and barren.
Better to have left long ago or
confronted your own lineage-issued father and
let yourself be disowned
than be the ******* you are.
Leave her be
middle child,
second accident
of the disappointing gender.
How dare you lay a finger on an innocent child?
You’ll never be absolved in anyone’s eyes.
Raised by fools, you’ve ruined your gift.
The daughter you never wanted
may never say it,
but will grow up to spite you.
Suffer like she does.
She’s been soaking it up now
for a while
but the blood flow continues
from deep wells of wounds.
She can’t take this load anymore
the people she carries
don’t love her and she’s
parched but still going.
Surviving on a lump in her throat
as she’s dragged through sandstorms and beatings.
Feb 22, 2012
Feb 22, 2012 at 5:31 PM UTC
The sun rose on me
On the African Continent
On the north west territory
Where beauty meets torment
Dry unforgiving harsh land
Where the sun is King in its mighty light
Bathed by an ocean of shifting sand
Offering an infinite burning sight
Relentless wind, hot and strong
Constantly blowing with a hollow sound
Shaping the Desert's callous character
Invisible merciless powerful master
A Boundless sky, vast & deeply blue
Witness the retched souls & the subdued
Through thirsty lips whispering mercy too
Drinking from a tenacious source of fortitude
The horizon promises much hardship
Scorching heat & tests of faith
The element's forceful grip
til you face your very own wraith
Tarfaya & Smara, my waking world
Desolate wastelands where silence thrives
Sandstorms are born here to whirl & twirl
Existence suspended in time, engulfing all lives
I miss the stars filled sky, in the cold of night
Promises of Edens amongst enduring times
Justifying every pains to be worth a fight
Forging dreams in the night's paradigm
Jul 31, 2012
Jul 31, 2012 at 1:35 PM UTC
Looking back it's revolting to me
A marriage to hypocrisy
Quantum leaps forward
Like an angel's descent
Into darkness and madness
Wings are picked off for lent
The pride of the ages and mediocrity
Are the fruits of the pharaoh's' monopoly
Golden decor for tombs
Sandstorms and lost places
Swords of knowledge are found
But wisdom; no traces
Sold myself in to blind slavery
The chains that bind are just as free
Quantum leaps forward
Like a mortal's ascent
Above the pride of the ages
Till the pharaohs repent
May 31, 2012
May 31, 2012 at 9:24 PM UTC
one year, we will scramble the seasons
so a summer yolk bleeds gold
into our white winter pages
leaving our islands on a plane
we will watch the clouds pull a mottled curtain
between ourselves and our mothers
in a campervan, we will etch lines
into the pale stretch marks of America's belly,
litter mountains with conversation
we will build our own climate with our lover's arms
wind a thread through an atlas cross-stitched
with icicles and sandstorms
we will enter the new year with sepia forearms
a thousand rivers gushing through our heads
stomachs rounded, full of sun
Apr 3, 2012
Apr 3, 2012 at 6:39 AM UTC
Years and months of tidy weather.
A sunny and partly sandy time
Where did it all go? The breath?
There was no rain on my heart!
There was no greeny leaves on my garden
Like the desert with deserted heart
Then there was a rainy cyclone
It poured out with a thundering storm
The first day storm was cool and calm.
The second day was with heavy lightening
Why does it sound like thunder & blow like a lightening
There grew a little tiny seed inside the sand
The wet, rainy, eroded sand gave a little light of life.
The patchwork of the untamed desert;
The cyclone doesn't last long, knew the desert;
Could it be more alluring & enduring?
Do you say no to a thunder storm on a desert?
The desert cooled and calmed.
The rays of hopes & the pointy days with blacky clouds
Cloude move but not the rain;
Everyday it rained; somedays were sunny;
Desert knew the rain will stop one day.
But it started believing that the rain will last.
On a day when the rain went to the deepest of the sands.
How could there be water on a unwatered area?
Melted the poor sunny day light desert.
Then the subsequent day it stopped raining suddenly;
It was all sunny, dry and hot again.
But it was not like the time before the cyclone.
There was wet in the deep sand.
There was a leefy seed with blossomed flower;
All of them in despair, in confusion, terror.
It was a catastrophe for the desert's soul.
The cyclone will never know what made this catastrophe;
For it never looked back at the desert's aftermath;
The desert got the new ray of acceptance;
It actually grew and groomed, made more of itself;
Spread more cacti, cactus & wildflowers;
It was dry on daylight & cool at night;
The stars & the sun grew brighter on the desert.
The desert started making more of sandstorms & laughed;
It was what it was & what it will be with or without the rain.
The desert know that now. It's a good thought;
The desert is overwhelmed with joy & happiness;
For it will find it's own companion one day who stays;
But the desert thought sometimes;
"one last time, will you rain again?"
Jul 15, 2018
Jul 15, 2018 at 8:05 AM UTC
*Blow, winds, blow
He wanders in and out of dream scapes,
Seeking refuge from the nameless ache,
The burn of a thousand cloudless days.
The tumbleweed of his joy blows in the dunes of neglect,
Vaguely rooted in the sands of discontent.
Blow, winds, blow!
Shift the sand beneath his feet,
Tumble him to the river of rejoice,
Where his seeds can bury deep
In the fertile soil of complete.*
Walk on, Lonely Pilgrim
Would that you would go a spell further,
Fight a round harder, walk a mile longer,
Perhaps you will see the clear waters,
The soaring vistas, the spring flowers.
Sandstorms blind your eyes and sting your throat,
Your music lost into the wind.
Walk on, lonely pilgrim,
Walk on, and meet me
In the green valley,
It's just 'round the bend.
I've a song to play for you!
Welcome Song for the Weary Traveler
With unsure steps, tread the ground,
Gaze out with open eyes.
Cast away all fear and doubt.
Let the music sing your soul!
This river will wash your bedrock,
Polish the rough stones of your longing,
Flow away your worried mind.
When this love-seed settles in the soil of your heart,
Your rose will bloom, in fertile field,
Where nightingale warbles its melodious tune.
Lay down your head upon alfalfa pillow,
Let the music take you high,
Where daffodil dreams and mystic streams
Sing you sweetest lullaby.
Now close your eyes and feel the pull
This song, the lodestone to your heart,
Drawing out your own sweet tune.
Hear gentle clouds that roll on by,
Smell sweet the scented breeze in sky,
Feel the love,
Let go,
Now fly
Lonely Pilgrim Dreams
The lonely pilgrim fell asleep on his pillow of dreams,
As minstrel sung songs that floated on air.
He struggled to wake from his trance like state,
As he found himself deep in the quagmire of regret,
Wondering how he had found himself
Wandering in green valleys,
How he had been so easily lulled to sleep.
He wondered, too, if dreams are ever real,
And what he would see at morning's light.
Minstrel sang on, into the night,
Singing all good things into his heart,
Breathing love into his pillow,
Playing for light,
Playing the tune of her heart strings that night.
She was not sure what song she sang anymore,
But wanted to sing,
And sing some more.
Nov 7, 2013
Nov 7, 2013 at 5:11 PM UTC
A yellow brick road glistens before me
A sign dubbed “Straight is the best way to go”
Even though an ominous aura flows
My inner voice screams
“Chaos will erupt if you walk further”
But my body moves independently
Down the sunny-patched pavement
The bright yellow shade grays
The unbowed path jerks far left
Away from the right destination
The map displays a straight yellow line
Heading directly to the city of great prospects
The mapped road looks as secure as the Great Wall
Running at ease without obstructions
Yet in reality
I ventured into the Desert of Disasters
The powdered sand deadening my progress
The volatile sandstorms
Stalls my venture
And conceals the route
Of the yellow brick road
Little water left
The path nowhere in sight
Only minuscule hope and perpetual effort
Can reveal the true path to salvation
Apr 20, 2013
Apr 20, 2013 at 8:40 AM UTC
"my day will be different today"
she declares, when she sees herself hidden in
in a passing spending and breaking broken
drive-by scribbled-pretend, urgent poem,
stumbled upon by a heavenly calculated accident
gladdened, saddened. now dressed to the nines,
that piece of me, wherever it be, the parade ground,
where the words and letters assemble,
where the firemen train,
adding logs, love, accursed ego,
to the hearth,
steady on burning, to practice putting out the
ohms and uh-uh's
of electrical resistance that
your response, a shiny knife of a self-reflecting observation
has...ho ** **
sparkling stabbing mirror
this one, a simple script, a written pyramid,
built by an Israelite, who by command, perforce
mustn't but does write prophecies
that may or may not come to being,
poem pyramids,
surely none will not survive Darius's desert sandstorms
ravaging kisses of time's forgetting
but your simple complementation
fits inside quite nicely, for its simplicity,
because it is a
provocation stabbing piercing a self-questioning, of
why to write I need pen paper and ink,
and don't forget those stupid teardrops in the clear vial
the Zola j'accuse
of every poet, even the gone-ones,
looking down
at highest bar in poetry!
did I really do that?
even for a brief moment,
a nanosecond,
me words
modify the entire continental shelf
that another writer occupies,
change its axis, the rate of spin,
the angle of another's
solitary human's day
nah
all i did was read (all) her poetry, imaging imaginng
a life so foreign, putting me inside of thee, and
let my stubs, the remains of worn fingers do the rest
so I guess it could be true
what you wrote,
but about me
"my day will be different today"
and why I practice this
wonderfully ridiculous
craft,
cause the pay is so
**** good
10:36am
Sep 30, 2017
Sep 30, 2017 at 10:56 AM UTC
My head spins
I can't sleep
The world whispers its memories of you
And in the bay's reflection the pain
Lurches like sandstorms.
Jul 4, 2011
Jul 4, 2011 at 6:23 AM UTC
Paint the madness of your life
Wild colors like the sky
Just before the sun sets
To say goodbye
Begin again
What's stopping you? Are you crazy?
Show me how crazy you can be
Paint the world with your crazy love
Every part of your human being
This is you
Embrace yourself with the brush of life
Colors fly from finger tips
Music notes waltz and sway
Through your teeth and out your lips
When you're awake
When you're asleep
Scream it out if you have to
Shout to the world with your
Greatest madness
I love you!
Inner demons creating miracles
Of unspeakable beauty
Forcing you to love even the darkest
Parts of yourself that you fear
Tame the beast
Ride the wolf inside of you
Paw prints of beauty and life
Leaving your tracks of love and light
Behind you
Glow with the power of a thousand sandstorms
Of crazy affection rising all around you
Turn the madness into the most beautiful portrait you know
The painted masterpiece of your soul
Spread your wings, let the Phoenix in you ascend
Feathers out arms wide spread ready set go!
What are you waiting for?
Paint the madness of your soul
You are a masterpiece to behold
Ride the wolf
Feel your heartbeat thunder
Like an earthquake through the floor
Penetrating love across the globe
Do not underestimate your power anymore
You are an eagle so let your voice soar
You are a dragon so let your fire burn forever more
You are a lion, you are
Any beast or creature you desire
Paint your madness like wild fire
Reach down into your core
And let your madness roar!
tHE tERRY tREE
Image | Prophetic Sketch 25 Lion of Judah Awakens With A Roar | Anne Cameron Cutri | Inspired by Spirit
May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 2:54 PM UTC
that year, we scrambled the seasons
so a summer yolk bled gold
into our white winter pages
leaving our islands on a plane
we watched the clouds pull a mottled curtain
between ourselves and our mothers
in a camper van, we etched lines
into the pale stretch marks of America's belly,
littered mountains with conversation
we built our own climate with our lover's arms
wound a thread through an atlas
cross-stitched
with icicles and sandstorms
we entered the new year with sepia forearms
a thousand rivers gushing through our heads
stomachs rounded, full of sun
Apr 3, 2012
Apr 3, 2012 at 11:39 AM UTC
He asks for the knife and I don’t want to spar so I tell him: we made a slide out of it. We made gravy out of it. We turned it into a homeless shelter for banana’s displaced by the sandstorms in your bedroom. It’s a new language. It’s something see through now, something you might hold to the light in a long car ride. It’s an excuse to not listen. It’s what’s left after you’ve eaten all the cheese and there’s still a thousand crackers on the plate. It’s one click away from getting it done. It’s stuck in an old contract it signed when it was young and desperate. It’s high fashion. It’s remembering you on fire with hope like every ******* dawn.
Jan 14, 2012
Jan 14, 2012 at 7:03 AM UTC
Want die more bring die goue
die nuwe , hitte , dag
en wind wat deur die takke skeur
die dood wat huil ;n kind wat lag
en twyfel sypel deur die huurglas
soos tik , of sandstorms
bring die tyd ook wroegings
van interne euforie
en donker oorskry die norms
geen meer swart en wit
geen meer ja , nee
reg, verkeerd
ek weet nie
ek weet nie meer nie
elke dag bring heldersiendheid
met eerste oogoplsag
maar elke more twyfel ek
terwyl Janus vir my lag...
terwyl 'n amper skynbare keuse
op 'n defnitiewe antwoord wag
Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 9:39 AM UTC
Abandoned dusty in the attic
A shadow flitters around the edge
Caressing the smoky veil of glass,
Searching to remember his first waking moment,
When he had become but a phantom
Of a man-
But alas, it had been always.
Silently knocking on the wall
Which holds him from the other side-
You saunter by and blink
And shun the one moment you could have seen
And he is forgotten from the ones who never knew him
And the fabric
Runs like soot over his world.
His eyes see but the ghost of the substantial,
His world imaginary staring through a window of glass
From which shines an impossible prism
Cutting a path through the smoky din
The dream-dust settles, making it but a circle
Glowing in the light
That he could live in another’s eyes.
That longing glare barely lights a beam
In the dusty sandstorms
That swirl unknowing in the upstairs abyss.
A cobweb of days long forgotten
Spells out a lost map of parts none traveled
And bone-dead
The shadow glimpses your heart and shudders.
Lost skies of fallen stars none found
The petty grains sifted through
As if you never thought to look
For the moon-bright glimmered tear
In the featureless field of silver what you only saw
Was you
And the night sky could weep no longer.
*In between the hope
And the reality
Falls the shadow-*
The mirror shatters.
Crushing glass slashing shards into the air
Shrieks erupt as the phantasm is
For the first time known,
The storm that had been hidden in that one-way mirror
Now unleashed, yet
You avert your eyes as if it was still a pane of glass.
May 7, 2013
May 7, 2013 at 10:11 PM UTC
I want to be loved.
But who would love me?
I'm not a rock
Or a goddess
Or seraphim or angel dust or light.
I can't lift drooping eyelids
Or cause sandstorms
All without a breath.
I have no interest
In picture frames,
Or watery exit gala moonlight.
I long to smoke with the devil
And teach the soulless to waltz.
I want to sing with daffodils
And tease their sweet bees.
I need to know what I'm creating,
And be exactly that.
Why is that so difficult?
Why,
Oh, why?
Am I not beautiful?
Don't I have eyelids?
A soul beats within me,
Tired and useless.
You're all I ask for,
My prayer in the cigarette prison cell.
But you need someone who won't love the thieves,
And chuckle at misery.
You need
A goddess.
Oh, me.
Feb 18, 2013
Feb 18, 2013 at 10:45 PM UTC
You are my Egypt. Warm dry sandy skin slipping through my fingers, blue rivers dipping and winding under your skin. A heart of paradise and honey, filled with the spirits of kings and gods. Every inch of you is a monument, a shrine to some old glorious memory, untouchable by the ravages of time or even made more beautiful and valuable. A constellation of red stars rise over your back and face, spiralling into green-brown oases, cool and soothing.
You’re blinding. You are the slim strength of an obelisk. You whisper stories like sandstorms that could wear down a mountain.
You have a face, a curse. You should be put in a museum. Just one touch.
Sep 17, 2011
Sep 17, 2011 at 12:10 AM UTC
~
for yasaman yohari
~
salute jahari,
jewel flowering faithful in our desert of the quiet misbegotten,
where more most eyes closed by sandstorms torrents of...
this child Jasmine girl, oh!
how I adore her happiest melodic smile,
eyes are opening, gleaming black dots so white bright,
explicitly explicably mystery perfect,
either could substitute for our shared sun master,
or our shy, face changing, hiding traveling moon
listen so carefully to the melodies
of a tired old man, why, no idea,
it has no literature, can paint no drawings,
yet somehow, his yasaman heart blossoms
pricked to revival, renewal, at your devotion,
deepest affection
so a bargain struck
***the old gent,
wise in the way of words,
gladly will tutor you in an
accented peculiar New York English,
if you can teach him how
a brother can - to- for-
a sister, a family,
love with joy brimful pure,
an added recompense,
I will take her Persian name as well***
Apr 29, 2017
Apr 29, 2017 at 8:47 AM UTC
The president has arrived,
the creator of our demise.
Signing deals in blood, no, in oil,
all while on enemy soil.
The desert sandstorms do not lie,
they tell us of our future.
A swirling whirlwind disaster,
that will be our future.
The burden of the beast,
is carried by the weak.
No one can escape,
even the simplest fate.
There is no knowing,
just how long we have.
But I can promise you,
we won't be judged on what we had.
Jun 20, 2012
Jun 20, 2012 at 10:25 PM UTC
would that you would go a spell further,
fight a round harder, walk a mile longer,
perhaps you will see the clear waters,
the soaring vistas, the spring flowers
sandstorms blind your eyes and sting your throat,
your music lost into the wind
walk on, lonely pilgrim, walk on and meet me
in the green valley
its just 'round the bend
i've a song to play for you
Oct 17, 2011
Oct 17, 2011 at 5:02 PM UTC
winter holidays and you become snow
between glaciers and silver towers
among apes, wizards and goons
you become snow in the winter
as you turn into what you dread
as you turn into this being
a viking, werewolf, you name it
may the games begin, you may die
beneath the surface of your dreams
beneath red heavens and families
in times of hunger, you stay focussed
you become snow in the winter
as you turn into another, an: other
snow is flooding the news flash
sinners, brothers and sisters
burning sandstorms, playful twisters
elijah's path is covered with thorns
roses **** the innocent and they cry
wild roses turn into winter snow
raise your head, watchin' them grow
clocks, the same time, worldwide
remember the oaths of the old ones
remember them praying in the snow
...and turn into this being
Oct 14, 2020
Oct 14, 2020 at 9:44 AM UTC
the day you stopped feeling like yourself
transparent window panes became frosted
with the cool heat of his disinterest
the kaleidescope of your mind began to retrace itself
praying to find a moment where you could
still trick yourself into thinking
that this was something
real
and i am left here turning and screaming
and praying for a day where i can feel warmth
that doesn't come from five minutes in his presence
i dig my nails into my skin because the sharpness of the pain distracts from the sandstorms in my heart
dry and hot and nothing left to give
i look to the stars and try to pray for a future
where i'm not still thinking about the look on his face
when he turned away
and the softness of his voice when it speaks my name
Oct 18, 2016
Oct 18, 2016 at 9:29 AM UTC
A grain of sand in the desert of my life,
my mind stores you in dunes,
in overwhelming abundance.
I create winds, sandstorms, tornadoes
to shape you,
to move you,
still you settle the same,
with mathematical precision.
Governed by physical law,
governed by bleeding and raw,
governed,
I want you more,
I feel you slip from my grasp ,
shifting the sands of my mind,
I wait for a deluge, a torrent,
a hope to bring new life,
a new form,
an awakening...
a forgotten seed,
and
the
rain
would
find
you.
Jul 20, 2019
Jul 20, 2019 at 6:58 PM UTC
fluid cries erase the night
in a merciless drought
of blinding Gods
sporadic firefly lights engulf boisterous fights—
hooded vultures choke on trivial grains
kisses of amber tissue complement
contrite countenances
inconspicuous soles merge
with coarse protruding talons
while lithe specters fleet around
yet the
walk of humanity prevails no fall
Jul 8, 2017
Jul 8, 2017 at 12:43 AM UTC
you never believed in the concept of Nobody
until all you saw were dual suns rising and setting
East and West
only the cacti begging your pardon, please
and worms, called away by the birds
left with nothing but the last remark that remained
with a wave of your breath
your eyelids flecked with grey
keen eyes polluted by dust molecules
despite the quiet
you were far from comfortable, far from comfort
drink, fire, chance, and sandstorms
the weather seemed to be pleasant enough
you may think
this place
where only stranger travellers dared to venture
to your alarm, a barren wasteland at best
an imitation of your pleas for solitude
pairing magically with your astonishing disappearance
you'd think, a harmless enough tale this is
carried by the winds to the Away Beyond
beyond the people and the places
untouched since long ago
i could teach you a thing or two but
it would be nothing but white noise to the mind
evidently, forgetful of the danger
that crippling sudden fear that enevlops
a terrible, disastrous, lonely place
where you can't stop screaming
Do Something
but Nobody could not be disturbed
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 6:01 PM UTC
3600 seconds, golden rich kids among bottle
scavengers, everybody hustlin', revenge?
the lights of society don't shine bright on them
collected bottles for a meal, irrelevant sunsets
the beauty of life decreased, dependency diaries
let lights loosely shine on these teenage giants
memories are opening up like red clouds, floating
in a time lapse, they will remember, in pride
honor and dignity, the one who splits the ocean
creates a shelter for the brothers and sisters
reckoner: burnings sandstorms, playful twisters
the one who smoothens a path to golem land
honey, milk and fruits, get rid of urban metal
come to us, be with us and stay with us
infinite loopholes, adults, kids and groups
the holy swoosh of a curl, your healing, stay
as you are walking through the ocean
as your brothers and sisters are with you
whiteblue words, you catch sentences like air
as you become a part of golem land
of us
Sep 4, 2020
Sep 4, 2020 at 1:33 PM UTC