solange say self care be a safe space.
a place to love.
to not deal.
months into therapy and i have not begun to heal.
the doctor say i got PTSD.
recommends skills for coping that i done heard before like
post it's of encouragement decorating my vanity
traumatic memories written pretty and rhythmic in a journal
stress wrapped beneath my prayer dress as i kneel in sujood
disorder made neat with Google calendar routines
or
something like that.
solange say self care be your house.
the comfort of hiding.
the keeping your mental safe.
see
i ain't slept in days.
because at some point the journey to bed transcended a frame of time.
became star gazing up at the texture of my ceiling.
became laps around the park at 3 am
became me welcoming lovers into my space to ferry me to my dreams.
solange say self care be your partner.
be eclipsing in the warmth of your love.
staying protected inside of complacency.
i welcomed him. them. the toxicity
my flesh still crawls at the shadow sensation of arms encasing my frame
coiling around me like snakes.
i have yet to understand love but i have grown accustomed to the volition of being ******.
or so i tell myself.
solange say self care be a mission.
a journey in itself.
to find rest in oneself.
i may not know nothing about no logical course of action or emotion
but some nights i find myself blazing down highland as if it was aṣ-Ṣirāṭ al-mustaqīm
and i get so frightened to my core of the honking horns and leering strangemen that i **** near prostrate myself on the street and make dua for protection and guidance.
say self care-
self care is...
self care be-
self care be tidying the mess that is i.
braiding my hair just for a ***** to pull on it.
wearing a pretty dress just for somebody to make me feel ***** in it.
coloring just to break the crayons in stupor.
making tea just for it to line my throat as bile.
laying down to sleep just to be awake for hours.
self care be a fight.
be a rush of anxiety imposing upon my nights
self care be a dream
a sweaty nightmare of ****** pressed against my back and weight dropping upon my shoulders.
self care be a struggle
self care be a disorder
self care be disorder
self care be me smiling in the mirror and saying mashallah i'm here ain't it?
it's ok to take this **** day by day.

An airplane crashes into an uncharted island and hundreds of people die in the burning debris, and somewhere a group of boys and girls are taking selfies as they stand next to a burning office building.

Thousands of teenagers sit on the couch and eat ice cream until the buttons on their pants explode off.

Kids light themselves on fires as if they were monks from the Tiananmen Square, trying to gain acceptance, their dreams of stardom translated through a series of YouTube comments.

We can't afford books for college because the tuition is ridiculous, but these glossy tabloid magazines are only a few bucks; pick one to set the course of your life.

Middle-aged people spend their lives indoors, away from the thirsty, hungry, withering children, and check how many likes did their photos receive on their smartphones.

Pornographic images in front of our tired faces, our eyes locked to the screen and we do not blink as our memories become embedded with objectification.

So we don't look up and see the chaos transpiring.

Cat memes and colorful gifs hold our attention while our parents slave away at their boomerang-shaped desks, trapped in clustered cubicles.

I saw a post on Facebook of a girl who was sexually assaulted at a house party and now her name was being hashtagged and kids were posing in photographs, laying on the floor, legs and arms sprawled out, left and right, trying to mimic the injustice.

We swipe right to find our future hookups, but what if our future husbands and wives were on the left?  

Society spends millions of dollars on drinks to numb our conscience, until our brain cells are wretched like the homeless guy on the street corner drinking liquor from a coffee mug.

Israel and Palestine battle each other day after day while our generation gossips about Solange Knowles beating up Jay-Z with her patent leather purse as if that news conquers every other bit of information out there.

The world will always be corrupt, but it suffers more from the apathy that belongs to us.

Nice to meet you, Dr Solange,

Life has thousands of facets and affects people in different days. Writers, especially poets,  see life  more transcendentally than prose-writers as poetry, like music, speaks beyond the bounds of words and often seeks to express the inexpressive, the mysterious and the fathomlessness of feelings and emotions.

At the pinnacle, the true poet is almost a mystic.

  I am a learner and still don't qualify as a 'poet'.  

Best wishes from Melb

Michael ****** Miranda and now Jake is mad
Diana's freakin' out because her grades are bad
Skylar's new boyfriend is twice her age
Popping pills is all the rage
Bradley and Calli have a thing going on
But she's in love with someone, that's so wrong!
Mary and Solange got in a fight at school
"Rielly and Lilli think they're soooo cool"
I've taken adderall every day this week
The feels I'm feeling feel so sweet
Is she a ******? Oh my god, who!?
So blurred the walls don't even know what to do
Walk down the street and hope the cops don't see
C'mon baby and party with me

30 | 31 Poems for August 2017

I need coffee and poetry and music by Solange, Emeli Sandé and Floetry.
I need love and freedom, I need to know that God is in my life even when there’s pain in my eyes.
Our love and chemistry was beautifully overwhelming but I never wanted you to say goodbye.
You left without any warning, you left and I need to know the reason why while I keep listening to Cranes in the Sky.
I tried to drink it away but every time I did, I woke up the next day feeling intensely inebriated.
I have cried myself to sleep on days when the world was dancing to the rhythm of my melancholic heartbeat.
I have fallen in love with my own solitude, but lately loneliness has taken over every single part of me.
You still have my heart beating in rhythms that are foreign to my existence.
I find it useless spending all this time apart while we keep admiring each other from a distance.
I have been waiting for you to help me get rid of this miserable and lonely life of mine.

1 | Heartbreak in Hatfield

You left me hanging like Da Vinci’s paintings on the walls of the Louvre.
But I could never manage to transform my heartbreak into a masterpiece.
I need good wine, good friends and music by Solange, Emeli Sandé and Floetry.
I need to know that love and freedom are in my life even when there’s pain and heartbreak in my eyes.
I took the bus from the CBD all the way to Hatfield just to free my mind and get some loving from you.
Let’s listen to our favourite songs while we reminisce about the love and happiness that we’ll never get back.
Happiness is an elusive feeling and I have been numb to it for some time now.
You know how depression, loneliness and heartbreak fit me well like a glove.
It has been a while since I’ve heard from you, too many days since February.
Too many days since I’ve been patiently waiting so I had to give up eventually.
I took the bus from the CBD all the way to Hatfield just to see you every Wednesday morning.
Every Wednesday morning, I was mourning the deaths of loved ones by celebrating the gift of life.
Too many days since February, I’ve been waiting for you to come and find me.
No amount of morphine could ever ease my pain, I am just trying to feel and find love again.
I took an Uber from the CBD all the way to Hatfield just to free my mind and get some loving from you.
Let’s listen to our favourite songs while we reminisce about the love and happiness that we’ll never get back.

A sickle moon and star so
far
Together a little token
precious symbols from the sky
Millions followers have spoken.
Love and Peace the goals
they are
Never more another war.

May we have peace on earth.
Shell✨🐚

(C) April 14, 2021 Solange Loe-Sack-Sioe

****! there's no milk in the house.. never mind... the house has already stressed a want to deviate from the standard English cup-ah... it's not exactly unique... the English way of contaminating black tea with a squirt of cow *****... sorry... juice... there are plenty of stories surrounding this practice in Siberia... among... lactating women... if Siberia is on show... then the whole of Russia too... if i were ever to visit the United States... Tokyo conquers my imagination over New York... there's the Belgium of L.A.... i'm simply not that interested... oh the natural north American continent i'm very much interested in... but not so much with what has layered itself over it... i'd still rather see the Kamchatka peninsula... the volcano "avenue"... ****! there's no milk in the house... the household decided to switch to a green tea: a yerba māté (or... m'ah t'eh)... lime infusion for some... IM-BIR (ginger) infusion for others... no milk in the house... which implies that i'll have to buy a pint of milk on the sly... and glug it down... in between finishing off an ice-cream on a stick... raspberry: rhapsody ber-e! or bear: é (yes... no exclamation mark).. milk the hooves of my trot... the Sri Lankan rubber of my 23cm tires pumped up to 80+ Pascal(s)          (?)... if it's not a 35cl of whiskey is must be a pint of milk... goat milk is overrated... by all clinical standards of wholesale... it's nothing short of what's cow: long-life... excessive pasteurißed milksch... ah: some relief in german when scribbling in  Ęgliš - phonetically: with a "trick" of hiding the N: lost an IN(?) inquisitive tone: tier above... the monotone of narrative... oh... hiding one arm of the tetragrammaton is easy... sharp quest: q: ooh... oh! i seem to have forgotten what i wanted to scribble in the elder-tongue... maybe it might come back to me... after all... there's an undercurrent of: congregation but: the aliases are awry... we do not share the same etymological roots... der körper schlafen: solange der schatten: getanzt! jetzt! jetzt ich merken: von die
unmittelbarkeit of thought with short-term memory! this one time... the devil didn't come with either fire or with the perfumery stressing sulphur... at best he was gagging to add a zest of: zitrone-limette-orange... perhaps... just perhaps... der teufel vergessen (to forget is also a memory) zu bringen das feuer... aber! er tat bringen RAUCH und (the definite plural article for) SPIEGEL! i learned my lesson... upon each visit to Ypres.. seeing the graves of supposed ethnic brothers... the anglo-parade of "individualism"... and how the Detusche were... burried: en masse... no robin: now sparrow... designated their song over the seemingly marble stones of the named... but when it came to how the Germans were... folded... brick-on-brick... a haunting reminder... the sparrow / robin always deemed it necessary to... haunt a tree with a song... for the tree to escape the polyphony of the wind... we're talking a ****** riddling... empathy with the neighbours of Europe... push from Asia that wasn't the HOO'NS... the English had a Spanish torrent: back in the day... odd... how easily the English has capitulated having invited their former colonies to the sandpit... their native women have been barren: without a sense of agency...  they still capitulate... like... there's no like quiet like it... the Spanish armada failed like the Mongolian fleet failed when the invasion of Japan was being scrutinised... why wouldn't i somehow: pity the German soldiers of world war I... entombed in mass graves... sure as **** & the constipation that comes prior... i figured it out... just today... when men... single... and send their ******* dysfunctions: clean-cut-and-perfect... they take the shot of themselves... AFTER... they have *******... obviously it looks larger... with all the blood drained from the abilities of the scribbling hand.. they take the vanity shot after they have *******... nothing worth of note: prior...

(the devil forgot to bring the fire... but... he did bring smoke und mirrors!) i mentioned this somewhere... in: alt... etwas güt! (not... gat: not gut... my gut? good... softer... german-esque) Englisch ist ein späterzunge: it made sense... when there was an Empire.. but... now? ******* rhubarb... Rue-Barb... graffiti or no graffiti? that technical observation... no articles... included... when adjectives are being "stressed"? perhaps only in german... in all the german tongues: this over-stressing of the pronouns... of definite... indefinite articles... in the ****** tongue the pronoun I... makes are rare curtain drop... Freud was right about the vanities of men... Copernicus... Darwin... but he faltered... citing himself... some languages have pronoun exclusion parameters... you can't change a grammar... while nouns are asexual i English they are "sexed" up in other languages... but you'll find it rare: to spot the ****** use the pronoun: JA... i... ich... isch... whether speaking or writibg... in terms of language... England? *******... wenigsachsen! truly... *******... like i was addressed: silly ****... verpiss dich: wenigsachsen!

i had a "friend" once: a fwend... more like someone
i shared an occasional drink with:
then again... i did most of the drinking
while he staged most of the awkwardness when
i'd: from time to time... turn into a silent boor...
anyway... i was lazy and he was fat...
or i was fat and he was lazy...
                     by one stroke of the blue moon he
thought it was wise to lose some weight
by going to the gym...
never a good idea to shed off a dozen or two or
three pounds by going to the gym...
by all means: turn to the bicycle...
turn to swimming... turn to push-ups...
stomach crunches? eh... like Socrates remarked:
i like my stomach lamb-tender...
makes it easier to continue sparring the ol'
liver with a southpaw cider before noon...
but it was never a good idea to hit the gym, bro...
to shed some weight...
now... well... he's definitely slimmer...
a no-fat content milkshake sort of a shadow
that he now casts...
but... eh... gym bro... you won't find my lifting
weights... cardiovascular exercises since:
it's the closest you get to imitating ***...
plus... when you're the wolf with the three little
piglets on a red light at a traffic junction:
all hot & bothered: heaving and hyping up
the loss of breath...
ping... go the ******* of some traffic collision
of a woman... bad bragging rights...
hell: if no one's going to use me up
for some luvyy-dubby-teddy-bear-*******
i might as well: self-deprecate myself...
- you won't find me lifting weights because
this "friend": fwend of mine has exchanged
a weight problem for a... skin problem...
nothing dermatological you see...
it's the excess of it...
   if he only listened to me and shed the weight
via the cardiovascular "method"
his torso wouldn't be looking like a interspecies
mutation of how a dried prune turned into
a phallus and magically ****** an elephant's
******...
just saying... swim... press-up... cycle...
by all means...                 hell: even explore the mind
while taking to a marathon length walk...

p.s. for anyone who's a W. H. Auden admirer...
perhaps i was too... perhaps i still sort of...
well... it's not terrible important...
but you know how homosexuals can be
these scalding / scolding ******* behind each
other's backs... or at least that's the impression
i get having revisited a passage from
Harold Norse's autobiography...
i reread it to remind myself that...
                      i might leave traces of conversational
overtones... i might not rhyme:
or bother much with: tech-niq(ue) -
although: in (brackets) - surds...
                          you write them to differentiate
what would probably some out
to tek-nick: although the -nick would extend
into meek with an N -
but it's worthwhile to remember that...

i had another "friend": fwend... he complained
that i wrote in word salads...
last time i checked: he wasn't fond of a slice of cucumber:
either...
so much for friends: "fwends"...
i'm itching at 35 years old
and i'm itching for...
beside the prostitutes that give me
the most pristine smooches...
purpose... yes... that grand: "thing":
i simply don't have a noun for what's
already readily available...

chin low: forehead: high!
(kinn niedrig:
stirn hoch!)

                rotkehlchen und / oder spaatz
auf mein fahne!

i forgot to have friends...
i have my shadow to keep me company...
ich haven mein shatten zu
halten mein... kompaine...
    i die: Adolfo: KLAR
es ist nicht: Portugiesisch:
no leash? nein: leine: or geese..

                a cat might as-alles-goot...
fall asleep...
in an around a bookshelf of
unread Rousseau...
     **** the ego... **** the most ineffective crux...
the lost pagan: the hyper-inflated
intellectual Hebrew...

came the res cogitans... so too must have come
the res venus...
i find the lack of fear of deity suspicious
surrounding the Muslim bravado...
lasts for about one...
oink-oink-...
prickling at the mythological blonde:
by the time we're through:
there might be the rarity of the ginger
Pakistani...
or the bleached beauty of Afghanistan...
the mythological blonde escapade...

thank god i''m not reproducing...
now allowance of daughter by my side...
side to sire... what?
licking out some... sorry... you're not playing
jazz: some ******* ***-hole?!
i'm glad to not be in the race
of rats...
i'm bowing out: no one said it wouldn't
be painful... it will be...

i rather die the death of a wolf
with his teeth being pulled out...
than die the death of...
estranged relatives...
social cohesion race mingling *******...
it was so nice... so nice...
when black people ****** black people
before the blakc boy discovered the white
girl...
to hell with her... as Genghis Khan
sufficed to surmount...
if it didn't happen on the shore of the Danube...
then... it didn't happen: at all..

no... i'm just tired of how the English see
***... in Belgium you could buy a *****-mag
like you'd be watching a girl put on a full show
of cow-******* and a sack: without
the hurt feelings of a niqab:

well... i get the Muslims... somehow...
they're just about ripe in being synonymous
with... French footballers...
that's what happens when you don't
fear your deity:
you become... sort of... shrapnel...
tooth-itches:
not: teeth-itching... hell...
not (a) tooth-itch...
pseudo-grammatical post- Reconquista of Spain...
the ****-
-stanis still think of themselves as:
because of the Ummah: we... the Berbers of North:
Af- Af-... ath... aph... who knows?

the Muslims are... oblivious to having
a fear of their deity...
it's not like... i sacrifice my *******...
to ******* freely...
because... i don't exactly require:
a woman on a leash... a niqab might work...
but...
Muslims are yet to evolve to fear their deity...
after the fear comes
the secular apathy...
like the one staged by the Hebrews during
the holocaust...
a god: what god?
capitulating English folk...
because Birmingham sings aloud: loot!
hey presto... it feels like:
there's looting to behold...
between you an me...
i don't mind the future or:
copper-necks
and Brazilian mulattos...

100 years from now...
the details of a Hapsburg dynasty will be worth...
the face of F.D.R. on a dime...
equivalent or: there: about...

as is due: i must: applaud the victor:
i'll die towing the remains of the day:
a sunset come the tide toward
the Faroe Isles...
where i'll breath my last into
fathoming the wind...

dodo project: last introspection...
by no god or genes...
let these people have what they utmost
deserve...
the humidity is getting to me...

i'll just... sort of die... admiring the corpus
of either the Janissaries
or the Mamluks....

to heave as much as a woman;
to enter the confines of a storm:
i 'd sooner fathom
the depth of the angered sea...
than... quest...
for the benevolence of a woman...
i've teased the depths...
i've angered the tides...
i've become:
the anchoring of the shore!

tomorrow the world ends...
thank god i'm no safe-keeping of either
Shakespeare or the Quran...
why?
toward my own privacy...
i'm sure at least one *******...
will want be revived:
just one... that might want to keep me alive..
just one? timid bunch?

have it your way: camel-jockey...
have it your way,,,
like any new-found-riches of an Arab
undermining a Bangladeshi..
**** the Arabs...
leave 'em in their...
whatever an Arab "thinks":
most probably something less than a Pakistani thinks of...
ahem: 'em...

**** the H'arabs!
best begin a reworking of: no oil involved...
with the ****'ites...
Persian pirate... to hell with the poodle
masters of the parasitical Sunnis.

Stille
Einmal kurz durchatmen
Die einzige Leerstelle im Gehirn
Die ich mag
Schön, dass du da bist
Schön dich zu sehen
Hier bei mir

Viele Kleinigkeiten machen ein Leben aus
Wir sammeln sie
Geben weiter und nehmen mit
Tragen uns gegenseitig durch die Welt
Bis zum letzten "Aus"

Und doch zerbrechen wir uns den Kopf bei den großen Dingen
Zumindest wenn sie groß klingen
Lasst uns trauern
Zwischen gemeinsam und alleine
Lasst uns feiern, lasst uns essen
Am Ende muss man lernen
Immer weiter zu machen
Weiter zu leben

Schon wieder etwas verloren
Jemanden
Auf dem Weg gelassen
Schon fasst vergessen
Schon wieder etwas mehr allein
Aber nur scheinbar

Vieles geht im Alltag unter
Großer wie Kleines
Manche Dinge kommen wieder
Manche schleichend und leise
Manche plötzlich, schreiend, laut

Lasst uns einen Moment verweilen
Hier und jetzt
Zusammen schweigen
Tritt ein *******zurück
Und lausch
Betrachte das Ganze
Schau was du sehen kannst von hier

Genieß den Ausblick
Solange du magst
Und dann komm langsam zurück
Zurück zu mir

Krista makes me want to dance,
Rob paints words with circumstance,
Victoria smiles, the kindest eyes,
Melancholy knows that love is wise.

Bones is searching for a hopeful heart,
Emmanuel smiles, all humour's art,
Solange sees others first and pure,
Melissa's kindness will pearl endure.

So why is now the only time,
Surely things will always rhyme,
Is dawn a beginning or a sweet revenge,
A time of day to think of friends.

We walk alone, it's our sealed fate,
We search at night, we consummate,
Your naked body pressed to mine,
Love is our boast, your lips divine.

Geh!
Geh weiter
Such dir einen Anderen
Wen besseren
Einen der dich lieben kann
Mit Zukunft und so

Ich bin nichts für dich
Kann nicht da sein
Nicht wirklich
Viel zu taub
Schon zu lange leer

Hoffnungslos ists mit mir, hier
Der Stecker ist gezogen, der Stöpsel raus
Laufe nur noch weiter bis  mir das Licht ausgeht
Nur noch wandelnde Hülle
Warmes Fleisch, ja
Aber kein Nährboden
Zumindest solange ich noch atme

Romantisch geht hier gar nichts mehr
Alles tote Hose