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Poems

Notes

Quarter tonic
Sugar with sugar
Sweet tongue
Semolina Lena

Noncognizant strikes
Dodge brother, dodge
Relentless moving
Those dark eyes always worth it

What I would give
To make this right
To step out of character
Or am I in one now?

Tired of this
Fearing its endlessness
The closer I am to one
The farther I am from both

When the notes I hear
Or the words, dear
My world flips
But I’m quarter built

Flipping like it’s
Practice makes perfect
Play the notes, play
As close as I can get

Limits limit
But memories punish
Flabbergasted and expectant
What are you doing? Incredulous

I am flipping and practicing
Playing notes and replaying nostalgia
Giving love like watering the parched
Learning to strike the balance

Leave me be, demons
You turn sustenance into air
After I’ve fed my soul
I shall have my peace

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Poems

Untitled

Eyes first meeting
Enchanted voice
Beauty and chaos
Delightful layers
Just a hint of tired
Well-hidden under a smile
Reaching out to soothe
What doesn’t appear to need it.

Not aware of depths
Counting breaths
How deep could they go?
Vanishing colours

The clouds passed
Resuscitation
And the sunshine
Sun-shone those depths
Unbalanced chaotic
Hurt with every stroke

They remember without connecting
At a standstill
A story ends
Without an ending

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Poems

“To my friends…”

I know you, friend,
I recognize my self in you,
Your countenance a canvas of your heart,
Or a parchment with ink bright red,
I’ve never met you,
But I see the part of you,
That would stand shoulder-to-shoulder with me,
Respect, dignity, and solidarity our shared language,
You have my gratitude.

It is so difficult to find you,
A necessity,
If it was so easy,
Then they would find us,
With their language of conformity and violence,
Copy-cats of blind majority,
Bent on propagating and steering,
We recognize the steps of their dance,
From a mile away,
We try to steer clear,
But sometimes our shared language,
Calls on us to act.

To the scoundrels,
I know you,
I recognize my self in you,
But that was an old self,
I left it behind long ago,
A fossil,
I’ve never met you,
But I see the part of you,
That would hurt me,
For entertainment,
Or derived righteousness,
Humanity’s parroting scoundrel.

================

Author’s note: I dedicate this poem to Sarah Hegazi (Rest in Power), a queer feminist activist from Egypt who recently passed away while seeking asylum here, in Canada, and to all who are navigating and surviving cruelness and systemic injustice.

Screenshot_20200615-201622

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Poems

Depression

Unyielding,
Immoveable and dense,
Stuck in place,
A blank mind,
Submerged in quicksand.

 

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Poems

An Ode to Mangoes

Your fragrance,
Simultaneously bewildering,
And calming,
Sets into motion,
A desire for memories,
I follow my nose.

Ah, there you are,
A sight for sore eyes,
Pleasing curves,
Coloured softly and brightly,
Shades of green, red, yellow, and orange,
My entire being aches for you.

I move closer,
My heart beating faster,
My yearning for you,
And a past life,
Grows with every step,
I had forgotten,
My fondness,
for your plumpness.

I reach for you,
Feeling your soft skin,
Running my fingers,
Along your familiar shape,
One of you will not do,
I want all of you.

Come home with me,
I will bathe you,
Caressing you lovingly,
Before I devour you.

With every move of my hand,
You surrender,
Your wetness drips and splashes,
A heady sweetness,
From another world.

Your flesh in my mouth,
Intoxicating,
Ignites fireworks in my mind,
I struggle to consume,
Your every last drop,
Every last morsel,
I do not want to forget.

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Poems

A thoracic study

Dear reader,
I feel a lump,
Behind my sternum,
Lodged in place,
Neighbour to the heart.

We had talked about,
How we were different,
But the unspoken truth,
That our love for each other,
Was not strong enough,
To overcome those differences.
An untruthful truth.

Dear reader,
What is this lump I feel?
It will not leave me be,
Right between my lungs,
Tight.

Categories
Poems

Kindness and the Fool

The Fool is eternal,
Always there to greet you,
Under any circumstance,
With a cold grin,
That spreads from ear to ear.

The Fool comes to You,
Without a finger lifted,
The way you wish Kindness did,
But Kindness is no one’s weakness,
The exact opposite,
Of what the Fool consoles you:

“You’ve been hurt,”
The Fool cups your heart,
With a comforting hand,
Wicked with long sharp talons,
“Sharpen your words with my whetstone,
Brandish your daggers,
Red-hot your brand,
So as to leave them with a mark,
They shall soon not forget!
Ready your fiery whip,
If they show you kindness,
A sign of weakness,
An opportune instant,
To lash them across the cheek,
Leave them with a kiss,
A reminder of what is to come,
When they move against you.”

You look at Kindness,
Their back turned to you,
And so you lash your whip,
No obstacle to distract your aim,
A smile plays on your lips.

You’re winning,
Protected,
Dignity restored,
You were hurt,
Doesn’t Kindness understand?
That complete and utter fool.

You are legion,
Kindness has their back turned,
Not on You,
But on the Fool’s army.
What else would you call an army,
Of recruits who whip,
Lash and stab each other?
Unaware of any common cause,
Or of the mission?

Every now and then,
When there comes,
A synchronous lull,
Within their ranks,
Kindness sends some words,
For those who might know,
How to listen:

“I am Kindness,
I am a difficult choice,
As eternal as your Fool.

In my care,
A legion,
Moving in unison,
They do not gain dignity,
By taking it from another,
Their worth immeasurable.

Your whips, brands, daggers, and words,
Leave only marks quickly healed,
My followers are survivors,
Humanity’s caretakers and builders,
Veterans of Fools’ armies.

In spite of and despite,
They choose to be kind,
The deepest of gashes in their hearts,
Scarified,
But yours continue to bleed,
Comforting talons digging ever deeper,
Every time you look to the Fool.”