Word of the day Poem 28:
Espy
In the distance
you hide
almost in plain sight
as if my third eye
were closed to the lie
Eye
can
see you
Catching glimpses
of your shadow dance
through the corner
Its clearer that way
You play a game with me
Claws retracting, reacting
catching bits of
cloth
but you never catch me
Catcher can't catch
Because I see you
Eye
see
you
But you can't
see me
----------
Word of the day Poem 29
Abstemious
Keep back from me
Hold me at arms length
just enough to touch
the tips of my curls
with the tips
of your needy
hungry
wanting
fingers
Stand away
Have a care as to how
you tease a creature
who regularly goes
without
Whose abstemious
behavior
could put
a nun
to shame
I am not sexless
but I am unsexed
not a woman
not a being
not a beating
libido
I am made
of water
fluid
flowing
and many want to
swim through me
but few can actually
handle
my waves
Stand to the side
and watch me
but keep your distance
from this soul
Because I know
and you know
that if I am without it
then I don't want it
but if I am teased and given
little
I will hunger, thirst
crave
and I'd rather forget
it was even
there.
-----------
Word of the Day Poem 30:
Oneiric
Close my eyes
to sway and swoon
laying together by
the light
of the moon
Sweet touch
Sweet kiss
Embrace I miss
To part from bliss
Just lost in this
oneiric thought
of your lips
Change me
like in
Metamorphosis
into this cocooned
love
knowing deep inside
that human words
will never be enough
So trap me
in sweet night
lullabies
and close
my eyes
Have the Sandman
take me by the hand
and show me to your side
in dreams
to play
to feel
to ride
half full
of anticipation
for the surprise inside
My imagination
can come up with
all kinds of things
so wrap me
around
your fingers
like our lovers
rings
and let me dream
dream
dream.
------------
Word of the day Poem 31:
Prestidigitation
Wrapped around your fingers
like the curls
that linger at the base
of my neck
you move me
deep inside
in the tiny pumping
chambers of my heart
you work me
prestidigitation
clearly
gliding from your veins
to mine
glittering
my eyes
blinding me to
the times
when things don't seem
worth fighting for
Loving someone
is a little bit
like tangoing
with magic tricks
slighting hands
rabbits and hats
long black wands
my heart
in your palm
to massage when the magic
is ready and warm.....
--------------
Word of the day Poem 32:
Aver
Twist me into
affirmation
proclaiming
that yes,
I am a rock
unturned
A declaration
of my
independence
from this world
Alone
but never forgotten
Aver
through solitude
grateful
for
sanity
through
the dismantling
of my land
I grow weary
of this place
Ill move on to greater stakes
Hold stronger
in your convictions.
---------------
Word of the day Poem 33:
Effulgence
From my heart to yours
Light the way
Brilliance
Illuminating
The sorrows
Away
Sway me in your direction
Fighting to stay awake
Deceptions is a tricky thing
Dims the room
Dims the soul
Takes control and leaves you breathless
Losing consciousness
Wrap me in your sunshine
Away from the lull of depressions
I am completely yours
I am completely yours.
----------
Word of the day Poem 34:
Salutary
It has left me
never there
doesn't care
to enter
this system
missing in action
and so i am left
defenseless
crippled by
the lacking
and if in the end
all that is left
of me
is the memory
of beauty
well, then
i'll live in the dreams
of the former
me
inviting
hallucinations
to proclaim my existence
keeping the
happiness of past tense
close to my fleeting sanity
as
salutary
visions of my youth
bring me home
to the Universe.
-----------------
Word of the day Poem 35:
Gravid
Gravid
feelings pull at
my insides
like the tiny
fingers of children
pulling at mothers
aprons
I feel you
Asleep
deep
inside
Waiting to start a riot
Your birth will be
a fire starting
turning the clay
of this earth
into fine grains
of sand
and demanding
attention
You will be great
my sleeping beauty
For inside of me
you write vivid dreams
of ancestry
of honesty
of homecoming
And I know
that birthing you
will ignite clear
clarion change
saving insanity
saving humanity
release gravity
into floating
lands
and we
will watch the rising
sun and moon and be
You tug at me
Asleep
Deep
Inside
And I can't wait
to look into your eyes
And tell you how much
I love the passion inside
of you
My Revolution
Child.
-----------
Word of the day 36:
Nimiety
Nimiety
in my heart
like a rush of blood
deep in the
canals of my
ears
too
damn
much
but never enough
for them
I am left
emotionless
on
GO
but never knowing
when I can turn
myself
back on
So I am off
on
GO
Auto.....matic
yes ma'am
yes sir
yes fam
yes
yes
Nimiety
winding freely
excess
like
overbearing
witness
to crimes
being committed
in my soul
no control
over what they
say
how they act
what reaction
to protract
Only GO
paused emotion
no solution
to the excess
Can't even run
away
Trapped
in the cycle
running
in circles
feeling psycho
walking
this
tight rope
Walking
this
tight rope
Lets hope
I don't
fall.
-----------
Word of the day Poem 37:
Ebullient for Miss May, rest her soul
Ebullient
in her step
she waltz through
rooms
classic
vibrant
a facing row of
shiny teeth
to share her joy
with you
I remember her
and the earthy
smell of her neck as she
came close
to hug me
console me
give me sugar free candies
that sat in a
crystal bowl
on her coffee table
A woman should be
like she was
in her womanhood
Confident, but never with ego
Beautiful, but never conceded
Giving, without expecting anything in return
Ebullient
in her step
entering
the pearly gates
now resting
in her place
with God.
------------
Word of the day Poem 38:
Clandestine
Wrap me in
secret
gauzed and cushioned
by the blow
a clandestine
attempt to steal me away
from this place
that is not my home
strangle the life
from me in my sleep
as i dream of
painless walking
consuming me
dissolved
back into the earth
from whence I came
kill this poison in me
for i am the poison
i am the deception
the lie
within the lie
the disease eating away at me
do it in the still
of the night
in the silence
of the sky
when no eyes
are gazing in my direction
be stealth
secret
slick
like the back of a whale
and let me slide away
falling
like
the last grain of sand
the last drop of water
dried and gone
filled to the brim
and then flashed away
Wrap me in secret
quiet and peaceful
take me in my slumber
for i can not bear the burn
i am not build for this
you may think
i am strong enough
but i am not
i am not
i am not
so free me
from this torture
this prison of
a body
wrapped in a pretty package
peel away the wrapping paper
and cover me
in dirt
6 feet under, beneath the water
where its safe and warm
but no body should remain
all i want left of me
is ash flying in the wind
i want to fly
weightless
free from this
so do it
do it for me
and be clandestine
so that no one may stop you.
---------------
Word of the day Poem 39:
Badinage
badinage
in my ear
sweet nothings
are all i hear
through the heat
and closeness
of your lips
through your
breathy words
and your kiss
just to close
my eyes and witness
the playful dance
of your finger tips
badinage
in my ear
sweet nothings
to bring me here
lull me to sleep
through the torment and pain
so that loving words
are all that
remain.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Word of the Day Poem 16-27
Word of the Day Poem 16:
Etiolate
Each time I see the
etiolated faces of reporters
and their
washed out bleached hair
lining black roots along their scalps
smiling while lying
through their teeth
about my people
and my land
and my neighborhood
and my life
i cringe at the thought
of turning an eye
an ear
a critical mind
to their words
and still
still
it amazes me
every
single
time
i wake
that nothing
has really changed
and hope, like love
like hate
like time
like mine
like them
like side
will always be
simply
a 4 letter word
and my passions
like my words
would be better heard
by my ancestors
who've been dust longer
than In God We Trust
has been on dollar bills
that pay for the destruction
of the country of my fathers blood
i know that optimism
is not enough
in a world where
etiolated thoughts brainwash
lost children
into thinking
that stunted growth
that being made pale and sickly
that settling
is better than
not living at all
but i'd rather be free in heaven
than be subjected to a cage
or a bleached out wall
of lies and blind following
so give me my space
to close my eyes
and day dream
of having my feet planted flat
on the earth that is mine
but was taken from me
rich in reds and browns and golds
to give me the courage
to be bold enough
to continue on.............
-------------
Word of the day Poem 17:
Invidious
Invidious
feelings turn in my gut
like tsunamis turning
grains of sand into
the skin of those running
for cover
I am no different
My feelings are human
like any other
And I
I try to suppress
the green burn
but its eyes are bright
powerful
burning holes
through the skin of my
eye lids
as i try to close
it out
try to
wish it away
Envy
washes over
me
in waves
like drowning
and i can't breathe
without taking in
gulping gallons of jealousy
I can't breathe
without becoming
overwhelmed
with feelings of need
I can't breathe
while the red of my dna
turns green
and captures all the good in me
Invidious am I
Even though I try
to be grateful for
the things I already have.
-----------------
Word of the Day Poem 18:
Ken
If I close my eyes
as tight as the slit
lips of fish
I can almost
witness the memory
of your smile
when I did something to make you happy
I live with the knowledge
that we worked so hard
against the tide of
each other
even though we were made
of the same calm waters
Your smile stays with me
even though I can hardly remember
the sound of your voice
The shade of your hair
as you aged now sits
upon my head turning
darker, as yours did
as you got older
and soon, sprinkles
of gray and white will dance
along these blackened curls
If I close my eyes
tight like vaults
holding jewels
I can smell the leather
of your jacket in the cold
of winter and the strong musky
sweetness of your cologne
I live in my understanding
of who you were before
I was born;
a dreamer wanting
to be loved and live
on the land of his birth
I remember you
and your strong hands
cupping my small round cheeks
as I cried
I remember you
and you calling me Amouni
when I was your little girl
and could do no wrong
I remember you
and our heated fights
wanting to leave and never
return
I remember you
as I close my eyes, holding on to
the vision of moments
shared, where we sat
on the board walk
by the water and spoke
as if we had all the time
in the world.
--------------
World of the Day Poem 19:
Albatross
You move through me
Webbed feet
clutching at my
heart strings
whipping me
around
like a rag doll
flipping
from a child's fingers
You move through me
Albatross feelings
guiding my hands
to remove
love from
my chest
for you
no more of a problem
than the desire
you lack
no more of a problem
You move through me
no longer
a burden
a feeling so distant
like the shadow
pain of a lost limb
gone forever
but never forgotten
You move through me
and I am no longer
chained to
the storm
you bring
for i am removed
and smiling
at the loss.
___________________
Word of the day Poem 20:
Coruscate
Eyes flutter
sharp
fast
rapid
like the shutter
of a camera
ready to set off
a flash
taking in
bright
rays
Lights
Action
Satisfaction
Like the memory
of laying in the grass
by your side
hoping to repeat
those thoughts
when I close
my eyes
Galaxies full
of dreams
and wishes
If we only knew
how many
millions of years ago
they burned out
and died
maybe we'd save our
breath and
glittering eyes
on prayer
Layer by layer
I wait for
sunshine
maybe my time
to burn that bright
will come
But until then
I'll bask in beautiful
deadly rays
and let sweaty dreams
catch me in
a wishing haze.
----------------------
Word of the day Poem 21:
Munificent
Wrapped around
my heart
your love
munificent
like the hand
of a kind
stranger
not of my womb
but of my motherly
affection
you are like
you are mine
and we know
this unspoken bond
will only get stronger
You asked me
once, twice
to be your mother
but I am more than that
and content
with waiting
until life
grows in me
________________
Word of the day Poem 22:
Odium
Odium
coarse
like brillo
eating at my
veins
injecting
itself
vile
like poison
hitting the bits and pieces
of my being
as i watch
the careless sheep
mill about
stupidly
absentmindedly
as if they
are the only
one's that matter
in this world
and i watch
seething
loathing
and hoping
they all wash away
in a storm
far away
from me.
--------------------------
Word of the day Poem:23
Exigency
Exigency plagues my heart
so deeply that
now my ears
are hushed
in a constant rush
like being
submerged
head first
into the salty sea
and all I see
is
RED
RED
RED
and wish for them
to bleed
and be dead
Tension rising
riding high
inside
like tsunami
tides
and my soul
can't take the
friction
squeezing the muscles
in my fists
because all I can do is
raise my tiny wrists
in pseudo protest
that doesn't do
a fucking thing
anyway
And today
like so many others
I watch them walk
sisters, fathers, mothers, brothers
oblivious
to the lies and hypocrisies
that seem so very clear to me
and I feel like I'm the only one
who truly
sees
and I fear going
completely insane
because the truth
is boiling my brain
and if i give in to the
rage inside
everyone one of them
better run and hide
because the fire
burning deep in me
will wash over them in threes
and I won't hold back from
this aerial attack
Now that silence is
falling deep deep inside
the hush
rush of blood
is all i hear at night
and I watch them still
as I hold my breath
I watch them still
wishing their death
because they've killed
everything and everyone
and taken my land
and I am left gutted
because of these sins of man
Left gutted with only
rage
hate
fire
and the need
to purge the earth of their disease
Exigency
be with me tonight
and hope to God
you're not in my sight.
------------------
Word of the day Poem 24:
Buss
My heart beats faster
heat increasing
breath caught in my throat
small beads of sweat forming
on the back of my neck
as you stand behind me
watching but never
touching
as i day dream
about your
lips touching mine
even in passing
an accidental
tap
a buss
like the slide
of our cheeks
against one another
in the embrace of our hugs
i wait
watch
think
so lost
in my mind
in my desire to
to lock lips
and arms and hands
with you.
--------------------
Word of the day Poem 25:
Pejorative
There is a special place for you
Hypocrite
Liar
Deceiver
Neither a
Heaven
nor
Hell
But a place where
you are fed back
a full spoon
of the bullshit
you fed others during your life
Amazes me how you walk through
the world, dismissing others at your will
knowing nothing of what situations hold
not caring
to know either
Special places for you
will hold you
pejoratively
like you hold your
victims
under your thumb
Don't want to contact those
who stand up to your
disgusting servings?
Fine
By
Me
---------------
Word of the day Poem 26:
Avoirdupois
Avoirdupois
feelings hit my heart
so heavy
sometimes
that my arteries throb
chilling my blood
to be slow like honey
caught in time
by chance and weight and mine own
raspy winding mind
I scratch at it
until the dermis of it's fleshy self
bleeds
until lines tracing back to
the beginning
I try so hard to be light
starving my insides
But there is nothing but
heavy, heady, heart ache
Too much to handle
when in this world
I'm expected to simply do
but to never exist
I am avoirdupois
as I am green inside
turning slowly into envy's eyes
since it seems there is no
way to be satisfied...
-------------
Word of the day Poem 27:
Venerate
For you
my love runs deep
like the veins
running deep below
the ocean floors
a love so
deep
respect flows free
from my finger
tips
to yours
you move me
deep in my soul
a ravenous
love like birthing
nations
through the
tiny walls of
my womb
For you
my love runs
through valleys
through waves
through desserts
through pain
For you
my sister
reverence is
synonymous
with my love
for you.
Etiolate
Each time I see the
etiolated faces of reporters
and their
washed out bleached hair
lining black roots along their scalps
smiling while lying
through their teeth
about my people
and my land
and my neighborhood
and my life
i cringe at the thought
of turning an eye
an ear
a critical mind
to their words
and still
still
it amazes me
every
single
time
i wake
that nothing
has really changed
and hope, like love
like hate
like time
like mine
like them
like side
will always be
simply
a 4 letter word
and my passions
like my words
would be better heard
by my ancestors
who've been dust longer
than In God We Trust
has been on dollar bills
that pay for the destruction
of the country of my fathers blood
i know that optimism
is not enough
in a world where
etiolated thoughts brainwash
lost children
into thinking
that stunted growth
that being made pale and sickly
that settling
is better than
not living at all
but i'd rather be free in heaven
than be subjected to a cage
or a bleached out wall
of lies and blind following
so give me my space
to close my eyes
and day dream
of having my feet planted flat
on the earth that is mine
but was taken from me
rich in reds and browns and golds
to give me the courage
to be bold enough
to continue on.............
-------------
Word of the day Poem 17:
Invidious
Invidious
feelings turn in my gut
like tsunamis turning
grains of sand into
the skin of those running
for cover
I am no different
My feelings are human
like any other
And I
I try to suppress
the green burn
but its eyes are bright
powerful
burning holes
through the skin of my
eye lids
as i try to close
it out
try to
wish it away
Envy
washes over
me
in waves
like drowning
and i can't breathe
without taking in
gulping gallons of jealousy
I can't breathe
without becoming
overwhelmed
with feelings of need
I can't breathe
while the red of my dna
turns green
and captures all the good in me
Invidious am I
Even though I try
to be grateful for
the things I already have.
-----------------
Word of the Day Poem 18:
Ken
If I close my eyes
as tight as the slit
lips of fish
I can almost
witness the memory
of your smile
when I did something to make you happy
I live with the knowledge
that we worked so hard
against the tide of
each other
even though we were made
of the same calm waters
Your smile stays with me
even though I can hardly remember
the sound of your voice
The shade of your hair
as you aged now sits
upon my head turning
darker, as yours did
as you got older
and soon, sprinkles
of gray and white will dance
along these blackened curls
If I close my eyes
tight like vaults
holding jewels
I can smell the leather
of your jacket in the cold
of winter and the strong musky
sweetness of your cologne
I live in my understanding
of who you were before
I was born;
a dreamer wanting
to be loved and live
on the land of his birth
I remember you
and your strong hands
cupping my small round cheeks
as I cried
I remember you
and you calling me Amouni
when I was your little girl
and could do no wrong
I remember you
and our heated fights
wanting to leave and never
return
I remember you
as I close my eyes, holding on to
the vision of moments
shared, where we sat
on the board walk
by the water and spoke
as if we had all the time
in the world.
--------------
World of the Day Poem 19:
Albatross
You move through me
Webbed feet
clutching at my
heart strings
whipping me
around
like a rag doll
flipping
from a child's fingers
You move through me
Albatross feelings
guiding my hands
to remove
love from
my chest
for you
no more of a problem
than the desire
you lack
no more of a problem
You move through me
no longer
a burden
a feeling so distant
like the shadow
pain of a lost limb
gone forever
but never forgotten
You move through me
and I am no longer
chained to
the storm
you bring
for i am removed
and smiling
at the loss.
___________________
Word of the day Poem 20:
Coruscate
Eyes flutter
sharp
fast
rapid
like the shutter
of a camera
ready to set off
a flash
taking in
bright
rays
Lights
Action
Satisfaction
Like the memory
of laying in the grass
by your side
hoping to repeat
those thoughts
when I close
my eyes
Galaxies full
of dreams
and wishes
If we only knew
how many
millions of years ago
they burned out
and died
maybe we'd save our
breath and
glittering eyes
on prayer
Layer by layer
I wait for
sunshine
maybe my time
to burn that bright
will come
But until then
I'll bask in beautiful
deadly rays
and let sweaty dreams
catch me in
a wishing haze.
----------------------
Word of the day Poem 21:
Munificent
Wrapped around
my heart
your love
munificent
like the hand
of a kind
stranger
not of my womb
but of my motherly
affection
you are like
you are mine
and we know
this unspoken bond
will only get stronger
You asked me
once, twice
to be your mother
but I am more than that
and content
with waiting
until life
grows in me
________________
Word of the day Poem 22:
Odium
Odium
coarse
like brillo
eating at my
veins
injecting
itself
vile
like poison
hitting the bits and pieces
of my being
as i watch
the careless sheep
mill about
stupidly
absentmindedly
as if they
are the only
one's that matter
in this world
and i watch
seething
loathing
and hoping
they all wash away
in a storm
far away
from me.
--------------------------
Word of the day Poem:23
Exigency
Exigency plagues my heart
so deeply that
now my ears
are hushed
in a constant rush
like being
submerged
head first
into the salty sea
and all I see
is
RED
RED
RED
and wish for them
to bleed
and be dead
Tension rising
riding high
inside
like tsunami
tides
and my soul
can't take the
friction
squeezing the muscles
in my fists
because all I can do is
raise my tiny wrists
in pseudo protest
that doesn't do
a fucking thing
anyway
And today
like so many others
I watch them walk
sisters, fathers, mothers, brothers
oblivious
to the lies and hypocrisies
that seem so very clear to me
and I feel like I'm the only one
who truly
sees
and I fear going
completely insane
because the truth
is boiling my brain
and if i give in to the
rage inside
everyone one of them
better run and hide
because the fire
burning deep in me
will wash over them in threes
and I won't hold back from
this aerial attack
Now that silence is
falling deep deep inside
the hush
rush of blood
is all i hear at night
and I watch them still
as I hold my breath
I watch them still
wishing their death
because they've killed
everything and everyone
and taken my land
and I am left gutted
because of these sins of man
Left gutted with only
rage
hate
fire
and the need
to purge the earth of their disease
Exigency
be with me tonight
and hope to God
you're not in my sight.
------------------
Word of the day Poem 24:
Buss
My heart beats faster
heat increasing
breath caught in my throat
small beads of sweat forming
on the back of my neck
as you stand behind me
watching but never
touching
as i day dream
about your
lips touching mine
even in passing
an accidental
tap
a buss
like the slide
of our cheeks
against one another
in the embrace of our hugs
i wait
watch
think
so lost
in my mind
in my desire to
to lock lips
and arms and hands
with you.
--------------------
Word of the day Poem 25:
Pejorative
There is a special place for you
Hypocrite
Liar
Deceiver
Neither a
Heaven
nor
Hell
But a place where
you are fed back
a full spoon
of the bullshit
you fed others during your life
Amazes me how you walk through
the world, dismissing others at your will
knowing nothing of what situations hold
not caring
to know either
Special places for you
will hold you
pejoratively
like you hold your
victims
under your thumb
Don't want to contact those
who stand up to your
disgusting servings?
Fine
By
Me
---------------
Word of the day Poem 26:
Avoirdupois
Avoirdupois
feelings hit my heart
so heavy
sometimes
that my arteries throb
chilling my blood
to be slow like honey
caught in time
by chance and weight and mine own
raspy winding mind
I scratch at it
until the dermis of it's fleshy self
bleeds
until lines tracing back to
the beginning
I try so hard to be light
starving my insides
But there is nothing but
heavy, heady, heart ache
Too much to handle
when in this world
I'm expected to simply do
but to never exist
I am avoirdupois
as I am green inside
turning slowly into envy's eyes
since it seems there is no
way to be satisfied...
-------------
Word of the day Poem 27:
Venerate
For you
my love runs deep
like the veins
running deep below
the ocean floors
a love so
deep
respect flows free
from my finger
tips
to yours
you move me
deep in my soul
a ravenous
love like birthing
nations
through the
tiny walls of
my womb
For you
my love runs
through valleys
through waves
through desserts
through pain
For you
my sister
reverence is
synonymous
with my love
for you.
Word of the Day Poem 11-15
Word of the day Poem 11:
Thaumaturgy
It could only be an act of magic
some small miracle;
the ability to love
and be loved
to give
and be given
such emotion so
unconditionally
even when to do so
breaks your spirit
breaks your mind
love isn't suppose to hurt
but it does
and so
it's miraculous
a part of thaumaturgy
that any of us bother
with such a risk.
------------
Word of the day Poem 12:
Propinquity
Certain words ignite
my memories like tiny
fireworks playing hopscotch
behind
my eyes
when i think of your warm
lips slowly moving
across the curve of my neck
when i think of your teeth
biting into my flesh
reminds me of the nearness
of our bodies when your hands
moved up my back
behind my shoulder blades
to pull me closer into you
i think back on the curves of your
hips fitting perfectly into
the curves of my mine
as we laid in bed late at night
wiggling nearer to one another
for warmth
for comfort
for love
for sex
reminds me of your voice
whispering dirty words
from behind
in my ear
as i slept
waking me to your passion
reminds me of the rock of your
body against mine
and if i close my eyes
i can still hear you
breathing heavily
my name
escaping from your lips
propinquity in your language
the knowledge that that is how
it would always be
even in distant memories.
------------
Word of the Day Poem 13:
Velleity
The is no act of
velleity in this heart of mine
No small act of desire
I come to it ramped
like run away fires
dancing from roof to roof
waiting for my time
to come
I can't hold still anymore
in this dying shell
kingdom come is call me home
a journey I'd rather not travel alone
This is no act of velleity
There is no calm desire in me.
-------
Word of the Day Poem 14:
Frisson for Palestine
I remember the first moments
Fleeting, heart racing, movements
In my soul, like flips fluttering frantic
A break dance romance
Erupting in me
When our eyes met
When your lips touched
When I looked into her soul and she looked into mine
Palestine.
Her smell lingers
in my memory
A sweet perfume wrapping me in the comfort of home
A complete feeling
Bring hand to earth
Earth to body
Body to soul
Soul to sky
Sky to God
God to me
Palestine
Wrapped in her salty lands
Laying in the warmth of her womb
I miss the brush of olive tree leaves along my fingers
Soft stones beneath my feet
Salaam on the lips of those I meet
Twisting wrists and hips to dance like the curves of a grape leaf
I remember her
Like the waves and rocks of the Dead Sea
Against my body
Like the warmth of my cousins hand in mine
Like the chestnut curls of my hair matching theirs
I remember
Catching my breath
Palestine
Family
Home.
--------------
Word of the day Poem 15:
Labile
Adaptation
shifting through identities
avoiding deformities
or at least trying to steer
clear of ignorance
through mental sustenance
I shift, changing swift
like tides change hands with
mermaid lovers
leaves floating along the surface
of its wet skin
kissing the depths
of me
through the whispers of
Yamaja
Feet moving
Like the fire in my soul
moves to the music in my blood
Like the labile unborn souls
snuggling with me in my dreams
through the cold of the night
as i wait for the right time
to unleash their glory
unto the earth
I shift, changing swift
hair, eyes, skin
the color of flags long buried
waiting for the winds to change direction
waiting for true revolution to
wake my senses
and show me the way home.
Thaumaturgy
It could only be an act of magic
some small miracle;
the ability to love
and be loved
to give
and be given
such emotion so
unconditionally
even when to do so
breaks your spirit
breaks your mind
love isn't suppose to hurt
but it does
and so
it's miraculous
a part of thaumaturgy
that any of us bother
with such a risk.
------------
Word of the day Poem 12:
Propinquity
Certain words ignite
my memories like tiny
fireworks playing hopscotch
behind
my eyes
when i think of your warm
lips slowly moving
across the curve of my neck
when i think of your teeth
biting into my flesh
reminds me of the nearness
of our bodies when your hands
moved up my back
behind my shoulder blades
to pull me closer into you
i think back on the curves of your
hips fitting perfectly into
the curves of my mine
as we laid in bed late at night
wiggling nearer to one another
for warmth
for comfort
for love
for sex
reminds me of your voice
whispering dirty words
from behind
in my ear
as i slept
waking me to your passion
reminds me of the rock of your
body against mine
and if i close my eyes
i can still hear you
breathing heavily
my name
escaping from your lips
propinquity in your language
the knowledge that that is how
it would always be
even in distant memories.
------------
Word of the Day Poem 13:
Velleity
The is no act of
velleity in this heart of mine
No small act of desire
I come to it ramped
like run away fires
dancing from roof to roof
waiting for my time
to come
I can't hold still anymore
in this dying shell
kingdom come is call me home
a journey I'd rather not travel alone
This is no act of velleity
There is no calm desire in me.
-------
Word of the Day Poem 14:
Frisson for Palestine
I remember the first moments
Fleeting, heart racing, movements
In my soul, like flips fluttering frantic
A break dance romance
Erupting in me
When our eyes met
When your lips touched
When I looked into her soul and she looked into mine
Palestine.
Her smell lingers
in my memory
A sweet perfume wrapping me in the comfort of home
A complete feeling
Bring hand to earth
Earth to body
Body to soul
Soul to sky
Sky to God
God to me
Palestine
Wrapped in her salty lands
Laying in the warmth of her womb
I miss the brush of olive tree leaves along my fingers
Soft stones beneath my feet
Salaam on the lips of those I meet
Twisting wrists and hips to dance like the curves of a grape leaf
I remember her
Like the waves and rocks of the Dead Sea
Against my body
Like the warmth of my cousins hand in mine
Like the chestnut curls of my hair matching theirs
I remember
Catching my breath
Palestine
Family
Home.
--------------
Word of the day Poem 15:
Labile
Adaptation
shifting through identities
avoiding deformities
or at least trying to steer
clear of ignorance
through mental sustenance
I shift, changing swift
like tides change hands with
mermaid lovers
leaves floating along the surface
of its wet skin
kissing the depths
of me
through the whispers of
Yamaja
Feet moving
Like the fire in my soul
moves to the music in my blood
Like the labile unborn souls
snuggling with me in my dreams
through the cold of the night
as i wait for the right time
to unleash their glory
unto the earth
I shift, changing swift
hair, eyes, skin
the color of flags long buried
waiting for the winds to change direction
waiting for true revolution to
wake my senses
and show me the way home.
Word of the Day Poem 6-10
Word of the day Poem 6:
Pedestrian
slowly moving
through your
indecision
i move, wanting
to break the cycle
and you,
you continue to
kill me
sluggishly
deep
on the inside
instead of making it
fast
swift
dignified
respectful
instead,
it goes on and on
and
slowly
the clock ticks
it tocks
it rocks at my foundation
cellular piece
by
cellular piece
cracking at me
and
your lack
of imagination
baffles me still
as i watch you
chase your tail
from across the
street
your lack of imagination baffles me
so
pedestrian.
------------
Word of the day Poem 7:
Tetchy
on the way home
in this entrapment
of a metal box
your leg shakes
with nerves
with annoying
vibration
a reminder
that you sit
too close
and take up more space
than you should
next to me
and i
let it roll off my shoulders
try to let it go
not to be
tetchy
as many of my fellow riders can be
for no reason at all
other than sheer selfishness
you vibrate
you smell
you're rude and
cough without covering
your fucking mouth
and
you read the post
arms outstretched
legs wide opened
as if you hold large luggage
between your thighs
and i
think back on step 6
and say to God
to remove all character
defects from me
as i day dream about
snatching the paper
from your hands and
beating you with it.
-------------
Word of the day Poem 8:
Elucidate
I took a breath
sky clear, blue like the bottom of the ocean
near Cancun
the clouds dancing
and shaped like
the elephants from
dumbo
I inhale, avoiding
smokers who walk
like slow moving giants all about me
I always manage to get stuck
behind their smokey bodies
but this time
i maneuver
i dash
i avoid
to keep clear as i inhale
as i exhale
as i clear the air
to keep me from screaming
so that i can elucidate
manifest
make this situation clear
of everything and anything
that may be assumed
to keep the panic
clear from my voice
as i tell you news
that seems horrible to me
i took a breath
and surprisingly
i didn't crumple
into my tears and dissolve
instead
my chin lifted to the sky
and i
i knew that sometimes
even Queens
have really bad days.
--------------
Word of the day Poem 9: Florid
Shining bright
her golden brown arms and legs
wrapped around her own body
and on the floor
through the air
along my soul
contorting
flexing
her florid
dress
vibrant
like fire
like love
like passion
like blood
bright like the blush
of my cheek
as i watched her thrust
her hips in my direction
oceans of fluid motion waving along her
skin like dreams of
mothers womb, soft comfort
watching this woman warrior
this dancer
this lover of color
of movement
of life
move her soul
through dance
through fire
through me.
-----------
Word of the day Poem 10:
Veracity
The other day, I walked along
Mott street being struck by memories
like tiny wings of truth
brushing along my cheeks
Heavy bags full of pictures
and cardboard holders
made the blood in my hands rush
to surface as I waddled along
hoping my smallish hands wouldn't
give out
To my right, dark dead ducks
hang by their feet in a shop
my Aunt Vicky and i use to buy honey pork buns from,
by the dozen in my early teens
Down the block from that
was an ice cream shop I passed
the day of the black out years ago
when I taught a creative writing class
on 34th street and walked with several folks
down to Wendy's house in Chinatown in
the August heat
On another side street, after Baxter,
was a small massage parlor my ex and I went to
one Saturday afternoon and the next to it, the shop
where he bought red pills called "Tiger Penis"
which were supposed to be a natural sexual stimulant
but made him sleepy instead
One block down from there
a Catholic church that I shot footage in
over 10 years ago, making a film with CreateNow
called Snap Shots
The musical soundtrack, a song I wrote and played
on guitar, lost in memory
lost in old age
lost in my smiling teenage face
a distant and gone version of me
Across the street from the church
my final destination
to drop of those damned heavy pictures
Once I saw the place I thought I remembered
from a delivery, I realized I remembered it
because my ex and I had had duck there, years ago
when Saturdays were our days to be,
just be,
to bask in each others bodies
planting small kisses on each others faces
before a late breakfast
showers together
and
a ride downtown, away from the tourists and
annoying sidewalk blocking people,
to explore the city
to be
with each other
I stood in front of this place
the final destination
before my ride back to Queens
flooded by years of memories
some available, some lost along the way
hoping that years from now
the memories would continue to come
I stood remembering his smile, his smell
the cameras we used to shoot our movie
the massage oil
the smell of pork buns
the look of melting ice cream in a black out
my addiction to remembering
and the desire to always have it.
Pedestrian
slowly moving
through your
indecision
i move, wanting
to break the cycle
and you,
you continue to
kill me
sluggishly
deep
on the inside
instead of making it
fast
swift
dignified
respectful
instead,
it goes on and on
and
slowly
the clock ticks
it tocks
it rocks at my foundation
cellular piece
by
cellular piece
cracking at me
and
your lack
of imagination
baffles me still
as i watch you
chase your tail
from across the
street
your lack of imagination baffles me
so
pedestrian.
------------
Word of the day Poem 7:
Tetchy
on the way home
in this entrapment
of a metal box
your leg shakes
with nerves
with annoying
vibration
a reminder
that you sit
too close
and take up more space
than you should
next to me
and i
let it roll off my shoulders
try to let it go
not to be
tetchy
as many of my fellow riders can be
for no reason at all
other than sheer selfishness
you vibrate
you smell
you're rude and
cough without covering
your fucking mouth
and
you read the post
arms outstretched
legs wide opened
as if you hold large luggage
between your thighs
and i
think back on step 6
and say to God
to remove all character
defects from me
as i day dream about
snatching the paper
from your hands and
beating you with it.
-------------
Word of the day Poem 8:
Elucidate
I took a breath
sky clear, blue like the bottom of the ocean
near Cancun
the clouds dancing
and shaped like
the elephants from
dumbo
I inhale, avoiding
smokers who walk
like slow moving giants all about me
I always manage to get stuck
behind their smokey bodies
but this time
i maneuver
i dash
i avoid
to keep clear as i inhale
as i exhale
as i clear the air
to keep me from screaming
so that i can elucidate
manifest
make this situation clear
of everything and anything
that may be assumed
to keep the panic
clear from my voice
as i tell you news
that seems horrible to me
i took a breath
and surprisingly
i didn't crumple
into my tears and dissolve
instead
my chin lifted to the sky
and i
i knew that sometimes
even Queens
have really bad days.
--------------
Word of the day Poem 9: Florid
Shining bright
her golden brown arms and legs
wrapped around her own body
and on the floor
through the air
along my soul
contorting
flexing
her florid
dress
vibrant
like fire
like love
like passion
like blood
bright like the blush
of my cheek
as i watched her thrust
her hips in my direction
oceans of fluid motion waving along her
skin like dreams of
mothers womb, soft comfort
watching this woman warrior
this dancer
this lover of color
of movement
of life
move her soul
through dance
through fire
through me.
-----------
Word of the day Poem 10:
Veracity
The other day, I walked along
Mott street being struck by memories
like tiny wings of truth
brushing along my cheeks
Heavy bags full of pictures
and cardboard holders
made the blood in my hands rush
to surface as I waddled along
hoping my smallish hands wouldn't
give out
To my right, dark dead ducks
hang by their feet in a shop
my Aunt Vicky and i use to buy honey pork buns from,
by the dozen in my early teens
Down the block from that
was an ice cream shop I passed
the day of the black out years ago
when I taught a creative writing class
on 34th street and walked with several folks
down to Wendy's house in Chinatown in
the August heat
On another side street, after Baxter,
was a small massage parlor my ex and I went to
one Saturday afternoon and the next to it, the shop
where he bought red pills called "Tiger Penis"
which were supposed to be a natural sexual stimulant
but made him sleepy instead
One block down from there
a Catholic church that I shot footage in
over 10 years ago, making a film with CreateNow
called Snap Shots
The musical soundtrack, a song I wrote and played
on guitar, lost in memory
lost in old age
lost in my smiling teenage face
a distant and gone version of me
Across the street from the church
my final destination
to drop of those damned heavy pictures
Once I saw the place I thought I remembered
from a delivery, I realized I remembered it
because my ex and I had had duck there, years ago
when Saturdays were our days to be,
just be,
to bask in each others bodies
planting small kisses on each others faces
before a late breakfast
showers together
and
a ride downtown, away from the tourists and
annoying sidewalk blocking people,
to explore the city
to be
with each other
I stood in front of this place
the final destination
before my ride back to Queens
flooded by years of memories
some available, some lost along the way
hoping that years from now
the memories would continue to come
I stood remembering his smile, his smell
the cameras we used to shoot our movie
the massage oil
the smell of pork buns
the look of melting ice cream in a black out
my addiction to remembering
and the desire to always have it.
Word of the Day Poem 1-5
Word of the Day Poem 1:
Osteopath
Consider structure
Bones touching bones
Condensation building in milky sticks of life
Deformities breaking down
Flexing muscle, flexing core
Treat me
Before crippled walking ends me
Practitioner of healing
Manipulate this shell
Into function
Bring me into myself
Consider structure
Bones grinding bones
Wearing down
Leaving piles of dust in my steps
Sending my essence to the wind
Osteopath
Heal me
-------------------
Word of the day poem 2:
Burnish
A knob
built of tiny brown particles
digs into the
dip of skin
between the bottom of
my back
and the top of
my behind
i shine it
unconsciously
as i sway
to and fro
contemplating
whether i should
stay or go
my shirt
has made an excellent
polisher
in the midst
indecisiveness.
-------------
Word of the day Poem 3:
Nocuous
Although I know
what you mean
when you mean
why you mean
to say the things
you say
i also know
that it cuts me
deep
like venom
like slicing
into skin
an accidental
reality
of your ego
sharp
cowardly
nocuous.
-----------------
Word of the day poem 4:
Sanguine
Basking in shades
the color of
arteries
your face glided
through emotions
in the shadows
of the night
sanguine
red with confidence
cigarette smoke unfurling
from your pale pink lips
curling around the ends
of the hairs on your chin
the memory of
beet juice dripping
from their brown and gray tips
at dinner
remembering that
optimism has never
been your strong suit.
-------------
Word of the day Poem 5:
Equine
Guiltless,
you shine
gallop
prancing
to and fro
through wilderness
through grass
through time
face bold
equine
fierce
you exist
to please
no one
but the
gods from which
you've descended
from.
Osteopath
Consider structure
Bones touching bones
Condensation building in milky sticks of life
Deformities breaking down
Flexing muscle, flexing core
Treat me
Before crippled walking ends me
Practitioner of healing
Manipulate this shell
Into function
Bring me into myself
Consider structure
Bones grinding bones
Wearing down
Leaving piles of dust in my steps
Sending my essence to the wind
Osteopath
Heal me
-------------------
Word of the day poem 2:
Burnish
A knob
built of tiny brown particles
digs into the
dip of skin
between the bottom of
my back
and the top of
my behind
i shine it
unconsciously
as i sway
to and fro
contemplating
whether i should
stay or go
my shirt
has made an excellent
polisher
in the midst
indecisiveness.
-------------
Word of the day Poem 3:
Nocuous
Although I know
what you mean
when you mean
why you mean
to say the things
you say
i also know
that it cuts me
deep
like venom
like slicing
into skin
an accidental
reality
of your ego
sharp
cowardly
nocuous.
-----------------
Word of the day poem 4:
Sanguine
Basking in shades
the color of
arteries
your face glided
through emotions
in the shadows
of the night
sanguine
red with confidence
cigarette smoke unfurling
from your pale pink lips
curling around the ends
of the hairs on your chin
the memory of
beet juice dripping
from their brown and gray tips
at dinner
remembering that
optimism has never
been your strong suit.
-------------
Word of the day Poem 5:
Equine
Guiltless,
you shine
gallop
prancing
to and fro
through wilderness
through grass
through time
face bold
equine
fierce
you exist
to please
no one
but the
gods from which
you've descended
from.
Fallen off, but Im back!
So it's been a long time. Too damn long. Since feb long! I suppose life got busy, got "in the way" of the writing, although I've continued writing through it all. I just haven't posted it on here. I'll be putting my word of the day poems on here as well, since they're on facebook and I'll go back to writing again daily, because, well, I miss it and because folks are interested. So here we go.
Monday, February 2, 2009
From my Broken Heart to yours: Ana Gaza, Inti Gaza
The first morning, I watched clutching my robe, my heart struggling to beat, hot tears stinging the backs of my eyes. I watched, paralyzed by the image of bombs dropping, of fathers running, carrying bloody children in their arms. I watched and felt so powerless.
It still amazes me, even though I know it's nothing new, that the media in the US can be so one-sided. It's appalling to me that they don't use their journalistic and investigative skills to look at the root cause. It is right for Israel to only "defend" itself? Why is it not okay for Palestinians to defend themselves? And why hasn't the Israel gov't said the truth about how many folks Hamas hasn't hurt with their retaliation?
I wonder and think back to riding the 18 bus from Ramallah to Jerusalem. Several times, I road back and forth between the West bank to Jerusalem. Being accosted by young soldiers with M-16's who were hot and bored and had itchy trigger fingers. I road in silence, trembling with the desire to say something of substance when they'd harass young mothers, other foreigners, teenagers who were equally bored or scared or frustrated with concrete walls and in guns in their faces.
Lets take a look at history and simplify it if we can. Lets say that you lived in a house a very very long time ago and it's been sold/given away and other generations have lived there. Other families doing just fine. And they know you're going through a hard time and are saying, "Okay, you're having a hard time, you can come and stay with us for a little while if you like," and their response is, "We're not going to stay for a little while, we're going to stay and you can go live in the dog house in the backyard and you can only go ten feet out on each side of the dog house and nothing more. And if you move, we'll shoot you." That's the situation in a nutshell. Of course there were Jews in the country already, but no one was trying to kick other folks out of their houses or off their lands.
I think back to my cousins and aunts and uncles not being able to leave the West Bank and see all the things I got to see in person. And being searched, having their bags looked in, having their trunks turned upside down, having their children scared.
I wanted to go to Gaza, but the farther south you go, the worse the soldiers are, the more security there is. No one rides the bus to the last stop I've heard. No one hardly dares unless they're with the news or an organization in their own car and even then, you need permission way in advance.
Human nature shows that when put between a rock and a hard place, you're going to want to fight back. You're going to push back against that rock because you're not going to sit there and get crushed. If someone, for example, from NY was only allowed to go from 14th street to 42nd street and only 125th when the Mayor felt like it and no where else and searched all the time, have your lights and water cut off periodically, be treated like an animal, you'd want to lash out too.
Palestinians and other Arabs alike didn't just start bombing and fighting out of no where. This didn't just HAPPEN because of boredom or evilness or Islam. This didn't just happen for no reason. Palestinians are fighting the way the Jews fought to stay alive during the holocaust. The Israels are treating Palestinians the same way they were treated. Just as a child abused might grow up and abuse their children.
So Israel can defend itself and Palestine can't? I don't condone either side. There shouldn't be any fighting. But there is. I just want folks to see why. Its not one-sided. Its not the mighty innocent Israel taking out those bad Palestinians. It's a genocide and a Palestinian Holocaust. Tell it like it is. For real and stop worrying about being PC. And why should Americans care? Because its our tax dollars that are paying for the weapons that Israel is using.
It still amazes me, even though I know it's nothing new, that the media in the US can be so one-sided. It's appalling to me that they don't use their journalistic and investigative skills to look at the root cause. It is right for Israel to only "defend" itself? Why is it not okay for Palestinians to defend themselves? And why hasn't the Israel gov't said the truth about how many folks Hamas hasn't hurt with their retaliation?
I wonder and think back to riding the 18 bus from Ramallah to Jerusalem. Several times, I road back and forth between the West bank to Jerusalem. Being accosted by young soldiers with M-16's who were hot and bored and had itchy trigger fingers. I road in silence, trembling with the desire to say something of substance when they'd harass young mothers, other foreigners, teenagers who were equally bored or scared or frustrated with concrete walls and in guns in their faces.
Lets take a look at history and simplify it if we can. Lets say that you lived in a house a very very long time ago and it's been sold/given away and other generations have lived there. Other families doing just fine. And they know you're going through a hard time and are saying, "Okay, you're having a hard time, you can come and stay with us for a little while if you like," and their response is, "We're not going to stay for a little while, we're going to stay and you can go live in the dog house in the backyard and you can only go ten feet out on each side of the dog house and nothing more. And if you move, we'll shoot you." That's the situation in a nutshell. Of course there were Jews in the country already, but no one was trying to kick other folks out of their houses or off their lands.
I think back to my cousins and aunts and uncles not being able to leave the West Bank and see all the things I got to see in person. And being searched, having their bags looked in, having their trunks turned upside down, having their children scared.
I wanted to go to Gaza, but the farther south you go, the worse the soldiers are, the more security there is. No one rides the bus to the last stop I've heard. No one hardly dares unless they're with the news or an organization in their own car and even then, you need permission way in advance.
Human nature shows that when put between a rock and a hard place, you're going to want to fight back. You're going to push back against that rock because you're not going to sit there and get crushed. If someone, for example, from NY was only allowed to go from 14th street to 42nd street and only 125th when the Mayor felt like it and no where else and searched all the time, have your lights and water cut off periodically, be treated like an animal, you'd want to lash out too.
Palestinians and other Arabs alike didn't just start bombing and fighting out of no where. This didn't just HAPPEN because of boredom or evilness or Islam. This didn't just happen for no reason. Palestinians are fighting the way the Jews fought to stay alive during the holocaust. The Israels are treating Palestinians the same way they were treated. Just as a child abused might grow up and abuse their children.
So Israel can defend itself and Palestine can't? I don't condone either side. There shouldn't be any fighting. But there is. I just want folks to see why. Its not one-sided. Its not the mighty innocent Israel taking out those bad Palestinians. It's a genocide and a Palestinian Holocaust. Tell it like it is. For real and stop worrying about being PC. And why should Americans care? Because its our tax dollars that are paying for the weapons that Israel is using.
Friday, November 7, 2008
The demon inside
A few weeks ago I watched an episode of True Blood, where one of the characters is dealing with Alcohol addictions. Instead of seeking out another unsuccessful meeting, she went to a woman who performed an exorcism because they both believed that her Alcohol addiction was a demon possessing her and making her do these things, making her act out, making her drink so much that she couldn't live or function and was ruining her. When she talked about her addiction, she talked about it referring to the demon making her do things.
Conceptually I understand that. I understand fully from what she meant. From personal experience and from watching others with an addiction. You are, for all intents and purposes, possessed by a demon/addiction/disease that you have no control over. Similar to my own battle with my Lupus. My control is very limited. There is only so much you can do. And so goes it with addiction.
Recently someone I love very much described it the same way. Described their battle with addiction like a demon. An evil gnawing demon, eating away at their insides. Making them do things they didn't really want to do or couldn't remember doing.
The more I go to the meetings with them, the more I see how in denial I've been about having a problem myself. The more I see just how important it will be to have an intervention for my mom. The more I see how very important it is to go to these meetings every damn day.
I keep hearing so many folks say that being an addict is a disease. I disease that tells you you DON'T have a disease. But it is one. It is a chemical imbalance in the brain and in the DNA that causes you to not be able to control or stop using. That is what it does.
Let's hope it doesn't eat away at the people I care about who are battling it. Lets hope it doesn't eat away at me as I battle it.
Conceptually I understand that. I understand fully from what she meant. From personal experience and from watching others with an addiction. You are, for all intents and purposes, possessed by a demon/addiction/disease that you have no control over. Similar to my own battle with my Lupus. My control is very limited. There is only so much you can do. And so goes it with addiction.
Recently someone I love very much described it the same way. Described their battle with addiction like a demon. An evil gnawing demon, eating away at their insides. Making them do things they didn't really want to do or couldn't remember doing.
The more I go to the meetings with them, the more I see how in denial I've been about having a problem myself. The more I see just how important it will be to have an intervention for my mom. The more I see how very important it is to go to these meetings every damn day.
I keep hearing so many folks say that being an addict is a disease. I disease that tells you you DON'T have a disease. But it is one. It is a chemical imbalance in the brain and in the DNA that causes you to not be able to control or stop using. That is what it does.
Let's hope it doesn't eat away at the people I care about who are battling it. Lets hope it doesn't eat away at me as I battle it.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
To be a mother and have a demanding career is Haram?
In Palestine, like many other countries in the Mid-East and Africa (or even folks from those countries who are in the US), the role of the Mother is very important. She takes care of everything her child(ren) need. In Palestine, most people are married by at least 21 or 22. And they stay married 95% of the time. Divorce doesn't happen here much. Not because of being forced to stay though.
As my cousin Shyma explained, there are people in place to help mediate at every juncture of the marriage. She's one of those people. She's not a therapist or a lawyer. She's a nurse. But because she's the head staff nurse at 2 large clinics and a hospital (she shares her time between them), she has a lot of interaction with the women who come. She doesn't do the medical stuff with them and their children. She talks to them about their lives, their problems. How to best work things out. That's how many people work things out here. And it works.
She has many young mothers come through (pediatrics is her specialty, but she works with the mothers as well as people too) to help them deal with being a mother because so many of them just got married or have been married for a while and now have a baby to take care of and although they have the help of their families, they don't feel like they are up to being mothers. Sound familiar? Only here, someone will help you. You won't be left high and dry to just work it out. And people helping you actually care. I guess that's the difference between social work in the US and social work here. The people have BEEN directly affected by the issue and so they know what it's like. As opposed to so many Social Workie folks in the US who have no idea what its like and start to not care.
The problem though with this now is that my cousin is being there for all these women and working a lot. She's at home still, doing things, but with very limited she. She also has a 2 1/2 year old and 4 year old. She's there for them as much as she can be. But she also wants to do her job. Her kids are at my aunts house, their grandmothers, after school when she's done teaching so it's no problem and then my cousin picks them up. She'll hang out here and then go home. She says her husband use to never help out, but now he helps a little bit. It would be one thing if she wasn't working full time AND helping her father with his driving school, but she is. In the US, it's "Normal" behavior if you're working a lot for whatever reason and someone else has to watch your kids, you do what you have to do and spend some time with them. Here that's no acceptable. My aunt says it's a sin. It's a sin to have a demanding career and kids and have to sacrifice some time? Hm. Perhaps, but it's reality. She's trying to save up to build a house. That's going to take work. She's going to have to sacrifice some time. And besides, that's what grandma's are for, right? I'm sure if it was up to my cousin, she would have waited a little while longer to get married. She's 26. She's been married 4 years. They don't really do birth control here. Of course she could get some since she's a nurse, but like the Catholics, it's grow and prosper here.
And don't get me wrong. She loves her kids and her husband. She was in love with him before they got married, so it wasn't like a random forced marriage. They went to college together. He graduated 2 years before her, but they kept in touch. He went to her dad and asked to marry her and they said to wait until she graduated and they did. She was grateful that her father did that. She probably would have never finished school if she got married at 19. She probably would have had more children and not following her dreams.
She feels the stress though,as any young mother would, to have her children and her job. To not get burnt out from doing both full time and trying to make a house. Of course it's harder when her husband wont cook or clean. It makes it harder. But hell, that's not new. That's been the role play for a long time all over the place. Of course in the US, if the dad sticks around, it can possibly be more of a partnership.
I told her to talk with him. She has. He's better than he used to be, she says.
I told her that sometimes with men that come from this kind of thinking, you have to trick them into doing more. She agreed. It just is the way it is. What can she do?
She said that things were nice, all lovey before they got married and when they first got married and then after a bit of time, she saw that he was different than she though and he saw that she was different than she thought. Sounds familiar, but for different reasons. In the US, folks say it's because "people change" after marriage in terms of what they want and commitment and all that. Clearly folks aren't spending enough time with each other, living with each other, knowing each other BEFORE they get married. But in my cousins instance, it's more like he thought she'd be a submissive yes sir wife who would above all put her family before her career and do everything for him on hands and knees...or something along those lines. And she thought he was the perfect guy, who would do romantic gestures all the time and help her, not treat her like a servant and then be a more active father once the kids came. They both had a fantasy that wasn't very close to reality and after 4 years of marriage, they are learning that they're going to have to really work with each other and be a partnership...even if it still won't be equal, it's better than it use to be. Hopefully it'll continue to get better for her.
Why is it a bad thing to have your career and your family? Sometimes it's gonna be hard. Sometimes you're going to spend more time at work, than with your kids. Any young adult trying make a better life for their family is going to go through this. She's not rich. She has to work for what she needs to do. If she wants to send her kids to college. If she wants to build a house (folks don't really buy houses here... they buy a plot of land and build a house on it...it's waaaaaaay less expensive to do all of that than it will ever be to buy a house in the US...crazy huh?)
Just wanted to write about that a bit.
I'm getting distracted, so I'll leave it that that.
As my cousin Shyma explained, there are people in place to help mediate at every juncture of the marriage. She's one of those people. She's not a therapist or a lawyer. She's a nurse. But because she's the head staff nurse at 2 large clinics and a hospital (she shares her time between them), she has a lot of interaction with the women who come. She doesn't do the medical stuff with them and their children. She talks to them about their lives, their problems. How to best work things out. That's how many people work things out here. And it works.
She has many young mothers come through (pediatrics is her specialty, but she works with the mothers as well as people too) to help them deal with being a mother because so many of them just got married or have been married for a while and now have a baby to take care of and although they have the help of their families, they don't feel like they are up to being mothers. Sound familiar? Only here, someone will help you. You won't be left high and dry to just work it out. And people helping you actually care. I guess that's the difference between social work in the US and social work here. The people have BEEN directly affected by the issue and so they know what it's like. As opposed to so many Social Workie folks in the US who have no idea what its like and start to not care.
The problem though with this now is that my cousin is being there for all these women and working a lot. She's at home still, doing things, but with very limited she. She also has a 2 1/2 year old and 4 year old. She's there for them as much as she can be. But she also wants to do her job. Her kids are at my aunts house, their grandmothers, after school when she's done teaching so it's no problem and then my cousin picks them up. She'll hang out here and then go home. She says her husband use to never help out, but now he helps a little bit. It would be one thing if she wasn't working full time AND helping her father with his driving school, but she is. In the US, it's "Normal" behavior if you're working a lot for whatever reason and someone else has to watch your kids, you do what you have to do and spend some time with them. Here that's no acceptable. My aunt says it's a sin. It's a sin to have a demanding career and kids and have to sacrifice some time? Hm. Perhaps, but it's reality. She's trying to save up to build a house. That's going to take work. She's going to have to sacrifice some time. And besides, that's what grandma's are for, right? I'm sure if it was up to my cousin, she would have waited a little while longer to get married. She's 26. She's been married 4 years. They don't really do birth control here. Of course she could get some since she's a nurse, but like the Catholics, it's grow and prosper here.
And don't get me wrong. She loves her kids and her husband. She was in love with him before they got married, so it wasn't like a random forced marriage. They went to college together. He graduated 2 years before her, but they kept in touch. He went to her dad and asked to marry her and they said to wait until she graduated and they did. She was grateful that her father did that. She probably would have never finished school if she got married at 19. She probably would have had more children and not following her dreams.
She feels the stress though,as any young mother would, to have her children and her job. To not get burnt out from doing both full time and trying to make a house. Of course it's harder when her husband wont cook or clean. It makes it harder. But hell, that's not new. That's been the role play for a long time all over the place. Of course in the US, if the dad sticks around, it can possibly be more of a partnership.
I told her to talk with him. She has. He's better than he used to be, she says.
I told her that sometimes with men that come from this kind of thinking, you have to trick them into doing more. She agreed. It just is the way it is. What can she do?
She said that things were nice, all lovey before they got married and when they first got married and then after a bit of time, she saw that he was different than she though and he saw that she was different than she thought. Sounds familiar, but for different reasons. In the US, folks say it's because "people change" after marriage in terms of what they want and commitment and all that. Clearly folks aren't spending enough time with each other, living with each other, knowing each other BEFORE they get married. But in my cousins instance, it's more like he thought she'd be a submissive yes sir wife who would above all put her family before her career and do everything for him on hands and knees...or something along those lines. And she thought he was the perfect guy, who would do romantic gestures all the time and help her, not treat her like a servant and then be a more active father once the kids came. They both had a fantasy that wasn't very close to reality and after 4 years of marriage, they are learning that they're going to have to really work with each other and be a partnership...even if it still won't be equal, it's better than it use to be. Hopefully it'll continue to get better for her.
Why is it a bad thing to have your career and your family? Sometimes it's gonna be hard. Sometimes you're going to spend more time at work, than with your kids. Any young adult trying make a better life for their family is going to go through this. She's not rich. She has to work for what she needs to do. If she wants to send her kids to college. If she wants to build a house (folks don't really buy houses here... they buy a plot of land and build a house on it...it's waaaaaaay less expensive to do all of that than it will ever be to buy a house in the US...crazy huh?)
Just wanted to write about that a bit.
I'm getting distracted, so I'll leave it that that.
Friday, October 24, 2008
Would it be easier to be a man? [and then some]
I meant to write about this a few days ago, but got busy with being in Palestine and writing about that journey. But all the while (for the last few days) I've been thinking about this:
Would it be easier to be a man here?
AND
Would it be easier if I more Arab looking and/or more Muslima looking?
I've been thinking a lot about this for several reasons.
I thought about being a man instead. Probably would be worse off. These days being a Palestinian man gets you just as much trouble as being a black man in America. Just like when my brother walks the street and is looked at like a black man and is harassed, so I would be too. I suppose in some ways, it's helped that I'm a "harmless" looking woman. Aside from my name, you can't tell where I come from or whats running through my blood.
Then again, maybe in being here, I'd be given more power. Treated differently if I were a man. If only I could dress up, play the part. But my body screams woman. I'm not opposed to dressing like a man.
Of course I could go on and on about sexism everywhere. About the power of women anywhere in the world, including in the US, in NY, in my neighborhood in Queens.
Walking through the streets of Ramallah, Palestine, I get a lot of looks. And I've been thinking about these looks. Part of it, I've been told is that the men like how I look. Okay, fine. There's that.
And then there's being a woman who walks with confidence. Its of course not like women walk around here like they don't have confidence, but they walk different. Maybe it's all the high heeled sandals. Who knows?
And THEN I think it's also it's because they can't tell what else I am. They can see that I'm something more than just Palestinian. Of course the folks in the country look all shades of the spectrum, but there's something about them that says, yeah, you're Palestinian. I've got that and then something else.
Maybe it's the hair. I know the only arabs I've seen with hair more so like mine are some Egyptians. It's of course my black side that makes my hair curlier and kinkier. My dad had looser, wavier curls. Mine are tighter.
So that's some of that.
Maybe I'll write more about this later.
Would it be easier to be a man here?
AND
Would it be easier if I more Arab looking and/or more Muslima looking?
I've been thinking a lot about this for several reasons.
I thought about being a man instead. Probably would be worse off. These days being a Palestinian man gets you just as much trouble as being a black man in America. Just like when my brother walks the street and is looked at like a black man and is harassed, so I would be too. I suppose in some ways, it's helped that I'm a "harmless" looking woman. Aside from my name, you can't tell where I come from or whats running through my blood.
Then again, maybe in being here, I'd be given more power. Treated differently if I were a man. If only I could dress up, play the part. But my body screams woman. I'm not opposed to dressing like a man.
Of course I could go on and on about sexism everywhere. About the power of women anywhere in the world, including in the US, in NY, in my neighborhood in Queens.
Walking through the streets of Ramallah, Palestine, I get a lot of looks. And I've been thinking about these looks. Part of it, I've been told is that the men like how I look. Okay, fine. There's that.
And then there's being a woman who walks with confidence. Its of course not like women walk around here like they don't have confidence, but they walk different. Maybe it's all the high heeled sandals. Who knows?
And THEN I think it's also it's because they can't tell what else I am. They can see that I'm something more than just Palestinian. Of course the folks in the country look all shades of the spectrum, but there's something about them that says, yeah, you're Palestinian. I've got that and then something else.
Maybe it's the hair. I know the only arabs I've seen with hair more so like mine are some Egyptians. It's of course my black side that makes my hair curlier and kinkier. My dad had looser, wavier curls. Mine are tighter.
So that's some of that.
Maybe I'll write more about this later.
Friday, October 17, 2008
Wednesday Oct 15th 7:20pm Adios Bar
A small journal entry I wrote the other night. Sort of Palestine related, BUT more about how I was feeling at the moment. So it's here instead of in the other blog.
I feel sick, like I have a cold. My head aches. My nose has been stuffy and runny. I can't really breathe. I'm having a good time, yes, BUT I'm feeling sick.
I'm at a place called Adios. Stone walls, soft candles, flowing alcohol and Spanish Music. Reminds me of Mexico. But this is not Mexico. This is Palestine.
This is a very relaxed Wednesday night in an Arab Community. Some Muslim. Some Christian. Some don't care. I needed some time away. To myself. The family worries. They don't want me out alone or with friends they don't know. Really? Hm.
They know me, but they don't really know me. My arabic isn't good enough for them to know my struggles. To know what I've done my entire life and what I've been through. They don't know me. And even when my Arabic gets better, they still won't.
The pain, torment, depression, addiction through out my life and in the family. How do I explain?
Abuse, self-destruction, complex sexuality. How? And why?
They knew where I was all this time. Why was it my job to seek them all out? Why was I the one who had to pursue them when they were the older aunts and uncles and family? They were the adults. It's their job to take care of me. Maybe that's why they want to do all these things for me.
Of course obligation in Arab and muslim culture make it so, but also guilt. They didn't know I had been sick this whole time. Or that I struggled to do schoo and worka t the same time. They still don't know the financial struggles I had and we had at home. Of course they didn't. How could they know? Was my uncle in NY going to tell them? Was my mom?
The more I think about it, the more my head feels the pressure. The more my head aches with this feeling of, "if I never wrote to them, would they have bpthered to look for me, to want me to be part of them?"
Maybe they did try and were unsuccessful. Maybe things were too busy and life was too hard. Maybe they forgot about me. Maybe. Maybe.
I sit in this place, watching Arabic music videos. The women who sing are clearly not Muslim Arabs. Or not very religious Muslims. All the songs ooz sexuality without showing too much skin or sexual contact between them and the men. It's sexual without being tasteless, like American videos. They all have very thin eyebrows. Very dark eye make up that brings out the color and almond shape of their eyes. Light skin. Long wavy or curled hair. Very beautiful. Syrian. Turkish. Lebonese. Egyptian. Not sure if any of them are Palestinian. Maybe there are and I don't know. Maybe I should do more research. My little cousin knows. She's about 12 or 13. Of course she knows all the Arab singers.
She thinks my life is like on TV because I'm in Amreeka. They thought NY was a different country from America. They think we're all like Bush. How can I blame them for thinking that? The US shows the world its ass. And we suffer for it.
I sit with my wine. Men come in here slowly but surely for beer. It's now 8pm. I write. Eat carrots with vinegar and nuts. Drink red wine. Maybe I look out of place here. The man who runs this place talked to me about the hotel for a while. The Grand Park is above Adios. I read about it in my travel book and decided to check it out. It's different from what the book says because they renovated the previous year. I was looking forward to the pool table, but it's gone. They're going for a more classy, membership based type feel. Thats what he says at least.
The man changed the music from Spanish to Russin. Now to John Lee Hooker.
I have this JL Hooker album at home.
All the men sit at the end of the bar. They drink tall glasses of beer, chain smoking their cigarettes, looking at me.
I wear my hair straight back out of my face in a bun. I've heard I look so different when my hair is straight back instead of curling all around my face. I wore my new green and silver coined earrings and necklace. I bought them in Jerusalem and the coins are older than my great grand father. Dark green scarf wrapped around my shoulders. A long sleeved black shirt I borrowed from my cousin. Olive green pants my aunt bought me. Black flip flops.
My hands fliding over my notebook. My pen and paper the guide. Arabic tongue surrounded by African American blues. How poetic. How me. The manager tells me he feels connected to southern blues. He feels the words. The music. The message. Rhythm and guitar vibrating softly against the stone walls. The softness of the candles. The light from the television glowing on the faces of the men.
I continue to eat peanuts and carrots.
The men look down. They want to be up again. The manager asks me if I mind if we listen to Arabic music. I tell him I love Arabic music. One of the men hand him a cd. John Lee Hooker and his blues is paused.
The music starts.
A man sings about a woman named Leila. Drums and flute. Accordian and guitar. His voice vibrates, moves me. Is smooth like this wine. The music gives me chills. The hairs stand up on my arms and legs. I feel the need, desire to dance. But I am immoble. I feel bashful. The men here are much older. Different. The atmosphere isn't that of other bars whether in NY or Palestine. It is what it is.
They change the music again. A southern country blues. Black man singing. Music sounds from around Alabama or somewhere down there. A video that played 30 mins ago is playing again.
It's 8:35pm. Almost time to go. I ask for my check. The manager tells me to bring my friends here and we'll have a good time. Tells me if I want a membership, I can get one. I tell him sure, I'll tell people. I pay. I spend $20 on 3 glasses of wine and me time. I'm sated. I leave. Time to go back. I still feel sick. But I am having a good time. Yes, I am having a good time.
I feel sick, like I have a cold. My head aches. My nose has been stuffy and runny. I can't really breathe. I'm having a good time, yes, BUT I'm feeling sick.
I'm at a place called Adios. Stone walls, soft candles, flowing alcohol and Spanish Music. Reminds me of Mexico. But this is not Mexico. This is Palestine.
This is a very relaxed Wednesday night in an Arab Community. Some Muslim. Some Christian. Some don't care. I needed some time away. To myself. The family worries. They don't want me out alone or with friends they don't know. Really? Hm.
They know me, but they don't really know me. My arabic isn't good enough for them to know my struggles. To know what I've done my entire life and what I've been through. They don't know me. And even when my Arabic gets better, they still won't.
The pain, torment, depression, addiction through out my life and in the family. How do I explain?
Abuse, self-destruction, complex sexuality. How? And why?
They knew where I was all this time. Why was it my job to seek them all out? Why was I the one who had to pursue them when they were the older aunts and uncles and family? They were the adults. It's their job to take care of me. Maybe that's why they want to do all these things for me.
Of course obligation in Arab and muslim culture make it so, but also guilt. They didn't know I had been sick this whole time. Or that I struggled to do schoo and worka t the same time. They still don't know the financial struggles I had and we had at home. Of course they didn't. How could they know? Was my uncle in NY going to tell them? Was my mom?
The more I think about it, the more my head feels the pressure. The more my head aches with this feeling of, "if I never wrote to them, would they have bpthered to look for me, to want me to be part of them?"
Maybe they did try and were unsuccessful. Maybe things were too busy and life was too hard. Maybe they forgot about me. Maybe. Maybe.
I sit in this place, watching Arabic music videos. The women who sing are clearly not Muslim Arabs. Or not very religious Muslims. All the songs ooz sexuality without showing too much skin or sexual contact between them and the men. It's sexual without being tasteless, like American videos. They all have very thin eyebrows. Very dark eye make up that brings out the color and almond shape of their eyes. Light skin. Long wavy or curled hair. Very beautiful. Syrian. Turkish. Lebonese. Egyptian. Not sure if any of them are Palestinian. Maybe there are and I don't know. Maybe I should do more research. My little cousin knows. She's about 12 or 13. Of course she knows all the Arab singers.
She thinks my life is like on TV because I'm in Amreeka. They thought NY was a different country from America. They think we're all like Bush. How can I blame them for thinking that? The US shows the world its ass. And we suffer for it.
I sit with my wine. Men come in here slowly but surely for beer. It's now 8pm. I write. Eat carrots with vinegar and nuts. Drink red wine. Maybe I look out of place here. The man who runs this place talked to me about the hotel for a while. The Grand Park is above Adios. I read about it in my travel book and decided to check it out. It's different from what the book says because they renovated the previous year. I was looking forward to the pool table, but it's gone. They're going for a more classy, membership based type feel. Thats what he says at least.
The man changed the music from Spanish to Russin. Now to John Lee Hooker.
I have this JL Hooker album at home.
All the men sit at the end of the bar. They drink tall glasses of beer, chain smoking their cigarettes, looking at me.
I wear my hair straight back out of my face in a bun. I've heard I look so different when my hair is straight back instead of curling all around my face. I wore my new green and silver coined earrings and necklace. I bought them in Jerusalem and the coins are older than my great grand father. Dark green scarf wrapped around my shoulders. A long sleeved black shirt I borrowed from my cousin. Olive green pants my aunt bought me. Black flip flops.
My hands fliding over my notebook. My pen and paper the guide. Arabic tongue surrounded by African American blues. How poetic. How me. The manager tells me he feels connected to southern blues. He feels the words. The music. The message. Rhythm and guitar vibrating softly against the stone walls. The softness of the candles. The light from the television glowing on the faces of the men.
I continue to eat peanuts and carrots.
The men look down. They want to be up again. The manager asks me if I mind if we listen to Arabic music. I tell him I love Arabic music. One of the men hand him a cd. John Lee Hooker and his blues is paused.
The music starts.
A man sings about a woman named Leila. Drums and flute. Accordian and guitar. His voice vibrates, moves me. Is smooth like this wine. The music gives me chills. The hairs stand up on my arms and legs. I feel the need, desire to dance. But I am immoble. I feel bashful. The men here are much older. Different. The atmosphere isn't that of other bars whether in NY or Palestine. It is what it is.
They change the music again. A southern country blues. Black man singing. Music sounds from around Alabama or somewhere down there. A video that played 30 mins ago is playing again.
It's 8:35pm. Almost time to go. I ask for my check. The manager tells me to bring my friends here and we'll have a good time. Tells me if I want a membership, I can get one. I tell him sure, I'll tell people. I pay. I spend $20 on 3 glasses of wine and me time. I'm sated. I leave. Time to go back. I still feel sick. But I am having a good time. Yes, I am having a good time.
Hope you're reading my Palestine blog!
Hey folks. In case you didn't see the link on the Palestine blog, here it is again.
I will have some writing in here during my stay, BUT most of the writing will be in the palestine blog.
Take a look see. www.emanrimawiinpalestine.blogspot.com
Let me know what you think
I will have some writing in here during my stay, BUT most of the writing will be in the palestine blog.
Take a look see. www.emanrimawiinpalestine.blogspot.com
Let me know what you think
Friday, September 26, 2008
My Palestine Blog-- stay informed
Don't forget to read that too! :)
www.emanrimawiinpalestine.blogspot.com
I'm leaving next week, so you're going to want to be up on ALLLLLLLLL thing Pali that I'm doing :) Of course I'll still be writing on here, but this will be about all kinds of things.
ok. self-promoting done.... for now! :)
www.emanrimawiinpalestine.blogspot.com
I'm leaving next week, so you're going to want to be up on ALLLLLLLLL thing Pali that I'm doing :) Of course I'll still be writing on here, but this will be about all kinds of things.
ok. self-promoting done.... for now! :)
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Desires of the body. Desires of the mind
When we deprive ourselves of the things we want; the things we need, we start to lose it a little. Well, maybe not lose it in the sense of not being able to control yourself. Lose it in the sense of having heightened senses. Where touch, taste, smell, sound, sight.... it's all louder, all brighter, all the more intense to distract you with.
When we deprive ourselves, we become more out of tune with ourselves and can't see past the senses. So someone crossing their legs, the way lips move, the smell of skin, the rhythm of a voice. It's all too much to bare. All too much. All too intense.
Almost to where you live in your day dreams until someone finally grabs a hold of you and gives you what you desire. Or until you're finally able to get it.
Let's see which'll come first.
When we deprive ourselves, we become more out of tune with ourselves and can't see past the senses. So someone crossing their legs, the way lips move, the smell of skin, the rhythm of a voice. It's all too much to bare. All too much. All too intense.
Almost to where you live in your day dreams until someone finally grabs a hold of you and gives you what you desire. Or until you're finally able to get it.
Let's see which'll come first.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Fear: An illusion of the mind or a warning of what's to come
Why do we fear the things we fear? What happened in our past lives, in the womb, in our childhoods to make us afraid of the things we are afraid of? Why does the dark make us uneasy? Or crawlie things. Or is it something in our genetic make-up to make us fear things in general.
What is fear?
Fear is:
What is fear?
Fear is:
| 1. | a distressing emotion aroused by impending danger, evil, pain, etc., whether the threat is real or imagined; the feeling or condition of being afraid. |
| 2. | a specific instance of or propensity for such a feeling: an abnormal fear of heights. |
| 3. | concern or anxiety; solicitude: a fear for someone's safety. |
| 4. | reverential awe, esp. toward God. |
| 5. | that which causes a feeling of being afraid; that of which a person is afraid: Cancer is a common fear. I find now that I don't do what I did sometimes when I was a child. If I was afraid, my first instinct was maybe to duck and cover. I grew out of it and now when I'm afraid, I seek out that which scares me. I find that even though it makes me afraid, facing it is better than being a coward. I still have the fear of course, but I face it either way. Heart pounding sweaty palmed and all. Why not, right? Let's hope I can keep that up. |
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