"wallah" poems - Hello Poetry

I last saw her in Santiago ******* drunkenly in a Sub urban taverna parading conceited pride in a twisted union with that ******** heinous maniacal harlequin each in vainglorious throes of their imagined septic mindfuck Debauch celebration of collaboration of succubus and incubus Some days she is saying Haloa in Hawaii adorned as Sainti Maria the ***** now as Madonna spewing words like a dove acting like a Nun in a Convent the fiendess with two faces hiding her ****** like the ace in lace the malignant serpent crawling in the duality of her neurosis I last saw her in Santiago In a sanctity of the poisoned insecures with exiguous minds consumed with flaming fears she begs acceptance for inclusion ******* for percieved reflected glory from her fathers' jailers The subjugated souls of chai wallah lives on in grandchildren So when Santi Maria flirts from honey to beehive Ready to ***** and part thighs and brain for minor pointing gun Feel sorry for a damaged child devoid of a prime core never made only obeisance to past rulers whose discarded cast-offs she wears Her poems enchants but its virulent tools she takes in her body I last saw her in Santiago A slaved two-faced pretender who sings like a nightingale In sub urban dives she postrates to friendly pats and gropes Melting creeps and hot tigers begging subs for a heady drink Brilliant yet blindsided to **** on knees as her children will too Copyright@LaurenceA20thSept2018Allrightsreserved.

0

Sep 21, 2018

Sep 21, 2018 at 9:03 PM UTC

yenson

I Call Her Santiago.....

I last saw her in Santiago ******* drunkenly in a Sub urban taverna parading conceited pride in a twisted union with that ******** heinous maniacal harlequin each in vainglorious throes of their imagined septic mindfuck Debauch celebration of collaboration of succubus and incubus Some days she is saying Haloa in Hawaii adorned as Sainti Maria the ***** now as Madonna spewing words like a dove acting like a Nun in a Convent the fiendess with two faces hiding her ****** like the ace in lace the malignant serpent crawling in the duality of her neurosis I last saw her in Santiago In a sanctity of the poisoned insecures with exiguous minds consumed with flaming fears she begs acceptance for inclusion ******* for percieved reflected glory from her fathers' jailers The subjugated souls of chai wallah lives on in grandchildren So when Santi Maria flirts from honey to beehive Ready to ***** and part thighs and brain for minor pointing gun Feel sorry for a damaged child devoid of a prime core never made only obeisance to past rulers whose discarded cast-offs she wears Her poems enchants but its virulent tools she takes in her body I last saw her in Santiago A slaved two-faced pretender who sings like a nightingale In sub urban dives she postrates to friendly pats and gropes Melting creeps and hot tigers begging subs for a heady drink Brilliant yet blindsided to **** on knees as her children will too Copyright@LaurenceA20thSept2018Allrightsreserved.

27

Exuberant he is! That’s a Yogi with character! Smiling, treat wallah. Pyramid quartz. Dangling sparkles. Sunlight reflects His teeth softly open to the world. Taste buds willing Simple yet refined Yogi Yum Yums Spreading the thunderous joy Of pure delight! He gives permission to say “GOD” He sits. When no one is around In the hall where Shiva dances to his music. Pulsing the instrument Harmonium glimmering with song. Goggles on, ready and shimmering He booms a great confidence, The resounding sound: SHRI RAM JAYA RAM JAYA JAYA RAM SHRI RAM JAYA RAM JAYA JAYA RAM!

0

May 5, 2015

May 5, 2015 at 3:51 PM UTC

pranamoonshine

Yogi Uday

Exuberant he is! That’s a Yogi with character! Smiling, treat wallah. Pyramid quartz. Dangling sparkles. Sunlight reflects His teeth softly open to the world. Taste buds willing Simple yet refined Yogi Yum Yums Spreading the thunderous joy Of pure delight! He gives permission to say “GOD” He sits. When no one is around In the hall where Shiva dances to his music. Pulsing the instrument Harmonium glimmering with song. Goggles on, ready and shimmering He booms a great confidence, The resounding sound: SHRI RAM JAYA RAM JAYA JAYA RAM SHRI RAM JAYA RAM JAYA JAYA RAM!

27

Cities aren't cities, The people are the cities, she'd say, and I didn't understand what she meant until I realised That Hauz Khas was our first stroll ever, Khan Market- our best cup of coffee, Humayun Tomb- our first stolen kiss, Dilli Haat- our first quarrel, The Lodhi Gardens- our biggest quarrel! The Jama Masjid was where we'd always make up. Now I know which market sells her favourite bags, which gully keeps the anklets she loves most, which discrete stall in the by-lanes of Old Delhi is her best chaat-wallah ever, Every nook, I know by the fragrance of her memory, I try forget, I try erase, But oh, I remember, For she is my Delhi Delhi is her, only her, The city of first love, first dreams, a million rights, a devastating wrong, The city that now stings with the thorns That make my feet bleed when I try to enter, Even with my back turned, The city hurls Stones at my fragile heart and screams at me to never return. I'll never return.

0

Jun 3, 2016

Jun 3, 2016 at 2:12 PM UTC

ghazal-tansir

Erasure

Cities aren't cities, The people are the cities, she'd say, and I didn't understand what she meant until I realised That Hauz Khas was our first stroll ever, Khan Market- our best cup of coffee, Humayun Tomb- our first stolen kiss, Dilli Haat- our first quarrel, The Lodhi Gardens- our biggest quarrel! The Jama Masjid was where we'd always make up. Now I know which market sells her favourite bags, which gully keeps the anklets she loves most, which discrete stall in the by-lanes of Old Delhi is her best chaat-wallah ever, Every nook, I know by the fragrance of her memory, I try forget, I try erase, But oh, I remember, For she is my Delhi Delhi is her, only her, The city of first love, first dreams, a million rights, a devastating wrong, The city that now stings with the thorns That make my feet bleed when I try to enter, Even with my back turned, The city hurls Stones at my fragile heart and screams at me to never return. I'll never return.

28

What does a Prince have in common with some fake stooge pretending to be an Asian in Mumbai but for oxygen Prince doesn't need a Chia Wallah and they belong to differing caste stay below as you've always been you are not important

0

Apr 20, 2019

Apr 20, 2019 at 7:28 AM UTC

yenson

Rat in Bahrain

What does a Prince have in common with some fake stooge pretending to be an Asian in Mumbai but for oxygen Prince doesn't need a Chia Wallah and they belong to differing caste stay below as you've always been you are not important

8

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.]

0

Sep 11, 2017

Sep 11, 2017 at 1:36 PM UTC

SBA

Post-Modern Habibti

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.]

41

Khalil Dridi Chwaya sabr wallah ----------------------------- love of my life just a little patience wallah

0

Aug 20, 2016

Aug 20, 2016 at 10:37 PM UTC

EMK

Untitled

Khalil Dridi Chwaya sabr wallah ----------------------------- love of my life just a little patience wallah

5

Deep inside we dig Ah! A wallah! wallah! Different cultures Thoughts abound A simple sound reprises So now we meet again laughing Aloud...aloud I praise that moment When we shout out! Hey! I know you and you I Let's fancy a stroll or simply be simple Hugs are amazing! Just like love Manners and farting not so well And if you decipher them My love goes to you

0

Oct 6, 2015

Oct 6, 2015 at 6:56 PM UTC

john-p-green

thanks

Deep inside we dig Ah! A wallah! wallah! Different cultures Thoughts abound A simple sound reprises So now we meet again laughing Aloud...aloud I praise that moment When we shout out! Hey! I know you and you I Let's fancy a stroll or simply be simple Hugs are amazing! Just like love Manners and farting not so well And if you decipher them My love goes to you

14

i get ****** and read books on a mahogany windowsill - wallah! wa wa coo chi coo chi coo!

0

Apr 28, 2016

Apr 28, 2016 at 9:20 PM UTC

removed.polaroid-scrabble

chonmage

i get ****** and read books on a mahogany windowsill - wallah! wa wa coo chi coo chi coo!

6