Sunday, March 2, 2014

My History Is Your History


We often forget to remember that we're all human beings living on this planet Earth together; though distant and disconnected more often than not, yet we all share the same space and breathe the same air. One could argue we're spiritual beings who go through human experiences, and I would like to have a drink with that one, incoherent fantasies pushed to the side... If we're all together and some of us more than others, why is it that nothing changes even when injustice; that dusty-filled word, is still being stuttered, spitted and echoed with the coming and going of a new generation.

Are you familiar with the phrase: "Put yourself in their shoes"? something resembling that, is perhaps what your mother used to tell you as a kid, when you complained about the beans in your rice, or the tomatoes in your vegetables, or the fact that you were served with a plate of vegetables even though you're clearly not a fan of green, your mother would then say something along the line: "What about the poor children begging in the street, put yourself in their shoes; that is if they even have any" you'll look at her, then look at green and you'll stuff your mouth with those -awfully red circling things- that taste of constipation and guilt. 

Is it fair? A question that's torturing an empty cycle, we all find ourselves asking that using our inner voice, hoping that just by questioning we would have paid some kind of debt to spirituality, so that when the questioning is done, we could roll around, chasing indulgence through an endless cycle. 

What it must be like to knock down all the boundaries to reach all of those children and embrace them like they're our own? A baby born out of wedlock is preconceived by society as an outcast, unwanted and wrong that'll grow up to become a thief and so much worse,  revenging and "getting back" at the society that rejected it. That's what society wants from you; to reduce that child to an it wiping away the humanity born within him/her so that apathy will turn you away from them. 

What about the grand thieves that run the countries? Stealing every single day, dictating what we're shown in the media, how we should act, what we should talk about, re-writting history using their own false words and treating every citizen like they're born yesterday. What about our "supposed" leaders that couldn't even level up to mediocre, that are everyday criminals, that hide under an umbrella they call religion which isn't even wide enough to shade them all. 

When you read a story about a woman who was harassed, kidnaped, raped and then killed, identified a few days later with only her disfigured and dismembered body thrown somewhere, your guts are filled with rage and disgust, whilst attempting and before quite unlocking those "Whys?" you're presented with another story of different origin and similar unfortunate ending. 

What if it was your mother, sister, daughter or female cousin; what if it was them? Victim Blaming is a tendency; an anchor that is to be removed entirely, because its now attached to every one of those stories. Why do I even call that a "story"? when its clearly anything but. A natural human characteristic is to try and distant ourselves from horrible circumstances that others face and we don't, the same tendency that makes us shudder our shoulders when we see all the graphic photos of war to immediately click next distracting ourselves with whatever random the internet has to offer. 

Slut Shaming (a phrase I despise, always) is another form of Victim Blaming, only this once there is no victim, there is no human, there is merely a thing; an object that is to be ridiculed, exploited for reasons I don't nor wish to know.  The need to ask "What if it was your..." won't even apply here. An object is the lowest reduction a woman can face, belittling her, dehumanising her, I would even go as far as pulling the Slavery card to compare this to that. You can't make omelette without breaking the eggs, and I can't emphasis how racism and sexism are the worst form of evil and prejudice I have ever experienced and witnessed. 

Remaining hopeful in a world that might be plunged in darkness can seem like an impossible path to stick to, but that's the only way to do it. I am reminded with the pureness of the human soul every time I interact with children who keep on reminding me of how magical everything around me is. If you only look at it in a different way; from the eyes of a child, that sees beauty in everything, that everything is a first to them, there are no expectations or disappointments, there is merely existence; infinite beautiful existence. 

My history is your history, these words I'm writing now are the same ones you'll read later on. We're all connected in a way or another, the prejudice one person faces affects us all as people. One woman's misfortune is mine; even if the very same act didn't happen to me, as a spiritual being first and a woman second I placed myself in her shoes and I felt what she went through. That's the only way to help each others is to take the time to think and reflect upon the less fortunate of us, shortening the distance then erasing the space, and connecting, through our compassion that drives our courage to stand up for others, and say: 'I won't tolerate this any longer' and make a difference, that's all it takes, is for us to connect, relate to write history the real way. 

Monday, February 24, 2014

Naked

I am lonely and I'm filthy
I want to see you naked
Before the old rhythm stops me
I'd like to see you naked

I am tender and I'm filthy
I wrote you many poems
Your body, I crave, drunk as I taste
The inside of you is like the first day

I am shameless and I'm filthy
I gave your love away
I never wished to stay
I broke many promises
I shouldn't have made

I am lonely and I'm filthy
The quiet night creeps in
To my empty bed that still
Smell of your hair and my one regret

Saturday, February 22, 2014

Strawberries


I'm nearing graduation and six years of university had taught me a lot about myself, a lot more about people and a little bit about life. Its all a choice when it comes down to it. I used to be one of the people that never wanted to admit that they cared enough, I say "used to" because I truly hope I'm full on my way of ridding myself of that, to care is to put in an effort and I lacked that; why build a mud house near a waterside? it makes no sense to invest in wasted.

Let me take you on a journey with me.

I had a hard time connecting with kids at my school, when my mom dropped me off (a nicer term for abandoning me) for my first day in school, I cried and cried with all the rain of a four year old for my beloved mother to come and take me back, save me from all these humans sitting in their assigned chairs and desks, looking at an empty black board that resembled my drained soul by the end of first period.

A nice boy then gave me a share of his candy, needless to say I recovered quickly. But hey (my future babies) never accept candies from a stranger even if that stranger so happens to be an adorable boy with a gum stuck in his hair... I wonder where life took him now, I hope he's well.

Not all boys were as sweet though, there was this one boy, who used to pour juice over my head and he always smelled of pee pee... And yet, I hope he's well too with a nice smell upon his flesh.

Girls were a different story, they taught me how to be sneaky and introduced me to this invention of a "skirt" barbies were also a foreign term until I got into school. Damn these "perfect" polished dolls with their artificial standards that brainwashed young girls everywhere. I can write a thesis on them but I won't. I gave them all away, and I'm glad I did.

Throughout school I had friendships, a lot but only for the sake of having them, I didn't really know any of my friends, and I never bothered to. I shared many laughs with them, I cried with them, but ultimately I never learned their core.

I think thats what I dislike most, you can share many years with someone but never really learn about that someone, people are satisfied with hanging about and laughing around, and that's really great, but how about more? Only now, I'm asking for more.

My aunt -may she rest in eternal peace- was an important person to me, but only now I'm learning about her; her life stories, her experiences, and all the great love she left behind. Her spirit lives on every time a sadness takes over only to be overshadowed with pure bliss for all the memories that are filled with her very essences. I smile when her name is mentioned, I know she blessed me in ways beyond any comprehension or reasoning. She is home, always.

I have started a quest, and I've reached a milestone. I've learned a lot about myself, and I'd like to share what I've learned with you:

- The past can enslave you; let go of it, bad years are a lesson and a blessing in disguise

- Happiness is a choice, you welcome it when you choose to

- Love everyone your heart desires to love and show them. And if you can't show, doesn't mean you stop

- Forgive all those who wronged you. Forgiveness brings peace

- Appreciate your family and recognise the fingerprints they left. Don't try and erase it.

- My mum is whole (I love her always)

- Learn about everything and embrace your weirdness

- Never lose that shine in your eyes

- If you're misunderstood, its not your fault. People tend to have a preconceived idea of others

- Forgive and love regardless

- Smile smile smile

- Use your imagination, create a library inside your brain

- Pay attention to what moves in front of you, colours are interesting

- Hold a special place in your heart for everyone who departed from your life

- Write orgasmically

- Milk is soul enriching

- Hope always

- Be random and sing outside, why only birds do it?

- Attachment isn't love

- Help others and hold your family above all

** Ok so I have Oprah-ed my way into this post and out of it, if you're reading this I want you to know one thing; fart jokes always lights up the mood. No matter what. 

Tuesday, February 11, 2014

Gift Of Rain


"I can't be afraid to lose you when you were never mine" She spoke after a prolonged hesitation that had failed to prevent the heavy air of discomfort and unease from circling around them. He stared at her, completely mesmerised by her expression; her watery eyes that held the gift of rain, that innocent look she always has; unaware of what words to say that can be of use to her this time, he chose to retreat and remain silent; for his words though always powerful were often misleading in their nature. After a few moments had passed with both of them in opposite ends of a room, he walked towards her; in the way a drifter walks through a tunnel, and sat down beside her on the coach; "Uncover yourself to me" and -for the first time- there was nothing more he wished to say.

"I am alone, I was born to be alone. A refugee by choice, I don't wish to ever belong anywhere with anyone" She proceeded in a confident manner and an assertive voice he had heard little of in the past time they spend together, leaning forward with a smile, he was both intrigued and attracted to this newly discovered sense of identity she seemed to possess, aware of the sudden curiosity she aroused in him, determined for him to understand her, she continued ridding herself of all the hesitation that kept her captive for quite awhile.

"I've promised myself; and what a filthy word that 'promise' one is! To never allow a man's words to affect me in a hope to change me into something I'm not. I had met men who swore devotion above all, ask me now where are these men? In the time I most needed them I failed to find the comforting shoulder I sought to rest my troubles in. A game and nothing else, love is a losing game I was taught to play and quit before it turns a mess. Like my mother once said: 'Men don't like you, they like their reflections on you' The strongest woman I know, she carried the weight of a helpless man and made her only daughter see the truth behind all the fairytales she once dreamed.

I won't deny my father's love for my mother, but like every attachment it came with its preconditions, do you expect me to believe that two hearts are bound to intertwine together for eternity? The greatest gift a father is to give his daughter is to love her mother, and then what? I hadn't felt the warmth and affection in my home ever since I could remember, and I know it grew cold from all the years, so why would I, while knowing that choose to believe in a 'what is come to pass'? I refuse to embrace any feelings that will shatter my heart."

"You're speaking entirely of somebody else's experience, what about your own?!" His question interrupted her inner train of thoughts and recollections, if she hadn't looked at him to find him looking back, she would have assumed he had left awhile ago, "Why do you insist on resisting what you've never experienced for yourself?" his eyes gleamed with the passion of curiosity, she saw him look at her in a whole new way, yet couldn't help but think of how frighting it was to have him look at her that way.

"I can't acknowledge my feelings for anyone" she begun in a shaky voice, a contemplating tone; deliberating how much more she wanted to reveal, "Why not?" he interrupted her again, this time his face adopting a different expression; a frustrated or a rather sad look had crossed his eyes before he quickly regained his composure, "Why don't you want to admit to your feelings?" he spoke in a caring tone; almost apologising for allowing frustration a welcoming pass, she looked at him; shaking her head twice; in a way refusing her tears a welcoming pass, he gently placed his hand over her leg, reminding her of the safety that little move used to bring her.

"I can't acknowledge my feelings for someone because I'm terrified of how intense they might be. You came out of nowhere, I don't know how or when you managed to cross paths with me but you did, and ever since that day, I was never the same. I felt in a new way, you opened my eyes to seeing the world differently and yet I never asked for this. I don't want my space to be invaded with a thought of you. I don't want my mind to wander off only to come back with a memory of you. I don't want my heart throbbing with a mere mention of you. I don't want my hands to crave to touch you. I don't want my tongue to desire to taste you. I don't want to 'get to know you'. I don't want to keep thinking of you when I'm in the process of forgetting you. I don't want to love you. I don't want to want you in the way I do."

A heavy sigh followed the unspoken words, she just uttered; the ones she always dreamed of saying to him, he was staring at her, failing to hide a pale expression of shock, not knowing what to say or what to do, his hand still remained on her leg, with his eyes fixating upon hers, he inhaled a deep breath, moving his hand toward her knee and pressing lightly, she looked at him with a single tear escaping her eye, he brushed it off with his finger, with an expression of gratitude dominating his demeanour, he leaned forward with a smile; and like a drifter who just walked through a tunnel and came out of it; she finally recognised the gift of rain she always had, and he couldn't help but be thankful for he was the lucky man she chose to pour down on. 

Saturday, February 1, 2014

Candles



The memories still smell of you; fresh with all the colours and many faces of you. My heart refuses to open up to someone new and my soul still moans for you, every night, I lie in this bed, reserving the right side for you, and all the words I choke with; I wrote them here for you:

You're clouding my mind
I no longer wish to hide
Like candles do in the dark
This vacant space awaits your light
If there's one thing I wish to have
Is for you to dream of me
Instead of her tonight 

Like the moon; you fascinate me, but I'm not ready for you... yet

Tuesday, January 21, 2014

I'm not deaf


-Street
her-ass-meant- 


It starts with random car horns and then honks, followed by cars pulling over and a somewhat terrifying fixated set of two if not four (if not more) eyes on me, an aggressive invitation to talk is to what comes next, and once its rejected by ignoring it ever happened, comes the showering of words/sounds that are a violation for me yet an equivalent to what compliments are for these men. Street Harassment you're up next!

I'm talking on my phone, completely oblivious to what's happening around me; considering the fact that it was almost a 100 degree and I always tend to be very cranky when it comes to hot climates (the irony that I live in one of the more heated climates is actually funnier now because its just sad) anyway talking to the person on the other side who could've been the devil in disguise for all I know (YES IT WAS VERY HOT) I walked a short distance, trying to locate the car to go back home, when I stopped for a minute and realised that a parade of eyes had followed me to where I now called a stop, as soon as these eyes became aware of my awareness of them, cue the flirtations techniques taken directly from the 'How the fuck to not ever get a woman handbook' Half of what was literally screamed at me I didn't even comprehend let alone respond to (which is something I would never do) the other half was too vulgar for my own innocent ears (innocent-ish?) and my frustrated mood to be disgusted with, so I basically did what I would normally do in the situation; walk away and pretend like nothing happened.

But something did happen... because this always happens.

Street harassment is now considered a norm; for me to walk outside my house to run an errand or simply indulge in the pleasure a solitary walk does for me, I expect that as soon as I step outside of my house I would hear a word or two from these lowlifes I've grown to loathe more and more each day. The very idea of this becoming a "norm" and for me to "expect" these things to happen because "that's just the way it goes around here" is not okay. See, I could've said something in the situation I've described before, but I didn't only out of fear of encouraging their comments even further, and I have been in a similar situation before which I'll get to in a minute, but let me just say that it was 2 o'clock in the afternoon, it wasn't midnight, I wasn't alone, the sun (THE FREAKING SUN) was shinning as bright and giving all its light to this beautiful life, and there were people (hint: other women) walking on the road, when these comments were made, every other woman walking or standing close by during that moment, including myself; turned a deaf ear, because that's just the norms around here.

I was walking (my life contains a few anecdotes that starts with those) down the street on my way back home from somewhere, when lo and behold I was facing a religious extremist right in front of me, I wasn't wearing any hijab and I won't even get to why not but let me just state that I strongly believe that once its on its never coming off, anyway so this man, who does not know me at all, first time encountering his pleasant demeanour and his mine, belligerently demands me to cover up; literally screaming at my face to cover my hair, now I'm sure (sure-ish?) that if I had met this man in any other different circumstance I would've totally walked away from him (because my mommy taught me not to talk to strangers) but he was screaming and I was there receiving his bitter end; explicitly asking me about my religion and how I'm doing it wrong, again I'm sure that if I had met this man in a different circumstance I would've most definitely walked away because my religion and relationship with God is a private matter between Him and I, but guess what? I wasn't in a different circumstance, I was there when all of these words were punching me in the face, and I refused to walk away like nothing happened so my idea of challenging this narrow-minded man was to tell him to cover up his head first before talking to me, which shut him up in confusion and gave me time to walk away feeling like a proper superwoman for not allowing him or his words to pull me low enough to talk back at him.

That's just it, isn't it? Its not so much what they're saying and that they want you to hear it because guess what ladies, these assholes are not even talking to you, they are talking at you, this is made perfectly clear once you ignore their "invitations" they get frustrated and start yapping about like idiots with their pointless purposeless words. I feel so annoyed when street harassment is made welcomed by ignorant men who won't even stand up because naturally a woman walking down the street on her own, is an invitation in itself; if she didn't want to hear anything she would have brought her brother or cousin or whomever as long as it rhymes with male, with her, I mean only then would she be respected and her personal space is as well, because that respect isn't so much directed at her but the male accompanying her and that same respect is only generated from fear. I mean bloody hell, I could walk to the store and bring my little nephew with me and he would be my protector if anything were to occur; do you see where I'm going with this? doesn't even matter how grown I am, as long as I'm female I have no fucking personal space once I leave my house! SCREW THIS SHIT.

Women are objectified and that's nothing new, I don't even want to get into that (I think my feminist sisters would agree LOL) what bothers me is the very idea of street harassment; the linkage of these two words together, men (actually lets just call them lowlifes, cause a real man would never submit to such behaviour... and I don't even know what this real man is) so anyway, lowlifes think that they can do as they please, say as they please and nothing would happen because worst case scenario: the woman would walk away, best case scenario: the woman would strip naked; she's so flattered her ovaries couldn't handle it. I don't remember the time when street harassment had become this thing it is that I am now so frustrated with that I decided to write about it. Harassment is a violation in its own right, these lowlifes are aware that the woman walking in front of them doesn't want to be bothered with their bullshit, but they still insist on spreading their bullshit, because although the conscious mind is attracted to this woman and wants to grab her attention, the unconscious mind on the other hand is flexing the muscles while jerking off, pre-ejaculating all over the lost chivalry of mankind.

I was followed home one day by this man who wouldn't take NO for an answer, you can guess how the story started, I was walking (of course) back home and completely lost in my own inner dialogue and conversation, when all of a sudden I see a car pulling to the side of the road and a man walked out and the first thing he thought was clever enough to say to me was 'Why do you look so sad?' Oh, I wanted to tell him all about how I was so heartbroken over Mufasa's death and what a great father he would've been to Simba, and the fact that I was still humming the tune of the theme song and it made me feel like anything is possible, or how I wished that birth control was something people believed in more so the earth wouldn't overpopulate and reach its estimated 9 billion and how I find it scary that for every four deaths there are two lives introduced to this world yet I still found it magical... magically scary, or how I wished I could've bought that Game Of Thrones book instead of that McDonalds chicken burger I went for instead because I was so hungry and like Pooh Bear always says there's rumbly in my tumbly! or how I thought it fascinating that even a six months old baby knows how to lie; even though he or she doesn't actively make the choice to tell a lie instead of a truth but I still thought it fascinating that fake crying is something babies have got over me or why all of a sudden I was feeling so maternal... YET instead I retreated with a simple 'No, bye' and walked away even though he was still insisting, talking and asking questions and all I could think of was: great now I'll always associate Mufasa's death with this idiot in his green beetle-looking car.

I've lost track of my thoughts for a bit there; internal dialogues are weird.

Street harassment is a violation of women's rights, not only that but its a violation of decent human interactions, the way women ignore all of that isn't helping and then again responding to it wouldn't help either, so what is a woman to do, other than walk away and pretend like nothing had happened theres really not much I can do... Except maybe turn to the internet and write a post in order to rant my way out of frustration.

 hooray do I say? 

Sunday, January 12, 2014

Places

Her eyes told stories; her eyes told the different kind of stories; the ones that are filled and soaked in magic, with innocence wrapped all around it and yet beneath it all lies the pain and tragic. Her eyes belonged somewhere else; solely and distant. Her eyes were of one that craved a deeper understanding; were of one that craved a comfort outside of hiding.

I can still remember the first time I locked eyes on her, waited for her to see me the way I saw her, to offer me a chance to get to know her, her conversations brought me to her; brought me sober, I felt a heavy craving for her, to fill every moment of the night with every-whole of her, to mix myself with her, to kiss her and learn how my tongue fits her, to kiss her until my soul is brave enough to reach hers, to breathe the holly earth into her, to taste the rain in her, to learn the smile that made her eyes shine in the way they do, to learn about the places she always escaped to.

She was my desire; anew, she was a destiny; destined for me to take the next step towards the much bigger and greater me. I can't fathom the spell she has on me; even now as I write this letter, part of the many letters I wrote of her; hoping they might lead me to her, or bring her back to the place in the journey; that was her stop and start for me.

My mind looks for her; in peaceful places where its free to indulge in the thought of her; her face even though the features might have changed, the mental picture I have of her that night is forever engraved to my brain, her lips that awaken the sun everyday, her words gloved in whispers, her touch... after all, it only takes one soul to touch another; in parts unknown to discover more and more.

She wouldn't know all the different ways she made me feel, I can still breathe her scent in places and find myself tracing it to nowhere; alone.