Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Not quite love poem

It's been over a month... and I'm surprised I haven't posted in such a while. It is as though the urge has disappeared and I am just standing in front of a mirror, waiting for my reflection to say something. I don't know.

I started writing a poem... I called it my "not quite love poem"... But I haven't finished it yet. Usually, when I write poetry, it's a one shot game. I write it and that's it... or it gets deserted like nasty leftovers, that make your mouth taste like rotten eggs. But... alas, this is a poem that I want to finish eventually, because it is a perpetual feeling... :x

So, I'll post it, and you can give me feedback.

-----

They say that it is better to have loved and lost
than to have never loved at all
and it makes me wonder
how hard a person must fall
to scramble up their brains
how many butterflies they need to consume
to feel the nervous fluttering in their veins
how many metaphors need to be dropped
in order to feel true love again and again
but...
not everyone follows the rules of the game
when it comes to love
there are no rules
sometimes cupid is a damned tool
and people live in cruel fairy tales
beastly, sleepy, dwarfed, and caged
stuck in this 'i wanna be loved' stage
but...
those of us who aren't
are considered broken
for being one of the girls or one of the guys
and somehow, somehow
I'm supposed to feel hollow inside
fill up this hole, with kodak moments of
regrets and sorrows
fill it up with love
but I can't
I won't
In fact, in this instant, I believe that
ignorance is bliss
I mean, what is love?
An elusive word that can never be defined
except if you are part of the 'in group'
you're crippled if you can't be loved
because, you know, everyone wonders,
why no one else loved you yet?
So, I'm sick of hearing that quote
In fact,
I have no problem with love,
it's people's conceptions that I have problems with.
I love my spinsterhood
I love my career
I love my research
I love being me
I love seclusion and loneliness
I love my friends and family
I love running
I love sports
I love a million other things
so give it up... because
I hate being labeled
insecure,
or being sold off like meat
So, screw it…
I don't believe it at all
Maybe, just maybe
if I am desperate enough
I can be like you...
I'll fall in love with my self
narcissistic personality disorder
chase after a leaf in the wind
fall down the rabbit hole
swim upstream and catch fish with my bare hands
You want me to fall in love
with an idolized dream
with a hyper reality
unraveling strings
tug on the loose end
set me free
because
it is not better to have loved and lost
because your love is as shapeless as gas
as twisted as history
and as addicting as heroine
and my love
well, my love
is to be restriction-less
bias-less
self-sustaining
unconditional
unmonopolized
my love, my love
is free.

Saturday, April 4, 2009

Some poetry performances

Morning,
so... i have a couple of video's on youtube of my feature... but the audio quality sucks a bit... but anyway... I wanted to share...
to see all my video's go to
www.youtube.com/whitefawn87

This is just one... enjoy :)

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

supReem FEATURE!! THIS FRIDAY!!! the 27th!

Asalamu alaikum//// PEACE!!!! \\//
So.... this friday is my step into the world... both career wise and artistically...
I'm taking my comprehensive exams at 9am... and basically if I pass them... I can graduate... and trust me... It's a HARD exam... students who've been studying harder and longer than me... well were forced to retake it later... :( but hopefully inshaAllah (by the will of God) I'll pass.. :) and then I can write my Masters essay and (well if that goes well) I can REALLY graduate...
Anyway...
I'd really like it if you (yes anyone who reads this!!!) could come to my feature at the echo verse poetry series.
It's at 1515 Broadway, Detroit MI... same place where we had the MY Expressions... This friday night (the 27th) at 9pm.
It's a $10 cover...
It is an amazing poetry open mic series... that has my 100% support.. They do all KINDS of poetry at the echo verse poetry series. I'm gonna say though... sometimes, it's better to leave the little ones at home though. It's all about self-expression!
Also, I have been blessed to be this friday's featured poet... so... be there!

If you can come! bring a friend!!! and even better... BRING SOME POETRY!! for the open mic...
I can't remember if there's a slam this week as well... but if there is... participate! get some experience!!! you just need a 3 minute long piece and some will power and you can do it!!!

I really would love to see you all there, inshaAllah (God willing).
asalamu alaikum \\// PEACE
-reem or... this friday supReem

Thursday, September 25, 2008

gang banging hijabi??

hey,
yesterday I had this conversation... literally... and it just cracked me up... only because sometimes people have no clue... but anyway... I tried to throw it into a poem...

I was asked yesterday if
I was part of the bloods or crips
in class cuz i had a bandanna on, i gripped
tightly to my desk, and felt my mind flip
over, mentally preparing myself for the conversation ahead
neither... I pointed at it and said
'it's black.. is that supposed to stand for something?'
the questioner looked at me funny and laughed
and said 'you aren't black'
skeptically my hand moved away from my head
I eyed him with curiosity, strangling the dead cat
he returned that look filled with question, stare off combat
I mean, how do you respond to with 'you aren't black'
'no shit sherlock, it doesn't take a genius to deduce that'
Instead I shook my head, side to side... and just cracked up
I pointed at my head again and said 'it's a hijab'

Thursday, September 11, 2008

September 11th 7 years later

Okay, so this piece is about 9/11, obviously 7 years later. But the point of this poem is that people focus on the past, and disregard the present. And when they focus on the past it's all talk rather than action. If people focused on 9/11 the day it happened, rather than sat there accusing people (i.e. muslims/arabs/indopaks) then a lot more could have been done for the security of this nation, but instead we (as in America, because yes I still consider myself American even though i've been ostracize on the basis of my religious beliefs) pointed fingers and played the guessing game about who was the next probable terrorists, ruining people's lives rather than helping those live's that already needed help in the states. So, this is a plea, stop focusing on the past, stop being all talk, and truly try and make a difference in the community you live in. And yes, the means stepping out of your little suburban lifestyle and giving back to the greater community, your metro area. So, all those people who live in the suburbs of metro-detroit, your parent's make money from working in detroit, and yet you turn your back on the city that has given you so much: your nice big house, your car, your tuition, your friends, your lavish lifestyle. The least you could do is address the issues that concerns detroiters the most, currently it's foreclosure! So, all those Palestinian children you were thinking about, think about them in Detroit not even 20 miles away from you. Anyway, so this poem is to remind us (me first and foremost) that injustice wasn't 9/11 or the isreali palestinian conflict or the iraqi war, no it's INACTIVITY, SILENCE, DENIAL, SELFISHNESS, NOT HOLDING YOURSELF RESPONSIBLE!

On a side note, did you know if your house gets foreclosed, if your homeless, or get evicted you lose your ability to vote, you're stripped of your citizenship, you lose your American identity in a way.... Hold that thought.
http://www.michiganmessenger.com/

-----

September 11th 7 years later

She sat in the 3rd row, 7th seat in her 10th grade class room

One September morning. She waited as the principal relayed the school news

Instead of hearing about pep rallies, competitions, and student groups

She listened to him talk about crashes, death, towers, deployment of troops

She watched as the TV was rolled in

Cringed at the sight in front of her, goose bumps erupting on her skin

Tears blurred her vision, a dam had broke

She turned to her best friend, who gave her a fearful look

She eyed her English teacher who stood domineering at the front of the class

Who’s eyes stared back at her, cutting, accusing like she caused the crash

From that moment on she knew her future would change

Sighing in surrender, hands extended in front of her, ready to give in, her life would never be the same

Between those 7 years till this very day

She waged verbal war against ignorance, battled psychological demons,

She the knight, ignorance the slay

Her words served on a tray indiscriminately to anyone who would take

Her knowledge and put it to their lips, tasting a drop of wisdom, everything at stake

Her hands were callused from holding wooden signs

Marching through the years, protesting to end the open-ended wars and fights

Her shin-splintered legs carried her through 7 years of time

She spent 7 years in worn out shoes, soles giving out, covered in the grime

She spent 7 years ignoring harassment, ignoring hate crimes

She spent 7 years fighting accusations hurled about her kind

She spent 7 years deconstructing every hurtful lie

She spent 7 years building relationships greater than the infamous twin towers

More complex, more architecturally defined, bringing hope to the hopeless and courage to cowards

Every year she stood carrying a candle into the night

Standing strong in solidarity, unifying under the banner of peace, bringing forth a bit of light

She volunteered to teach those who couldn’t afford to learn

And planted seeds of faith, hope, optimism, in those who thought that life could never turn

Around. And although she was like an energizer bunny, eventually she’d crash and burn

7 years later after all the random checks, searches, keyed cars, slashed tires, she mourned

For the increased warfare, attacks, death, deception, and the futureless youth

She mourned for the insecurity of the masses, the voice of silence, the fear of speaking out the truth

She mourned for the relapse back into the dark ages

Where people blindly attacked, with swords, cannons, guns fueled by hatred

And on this September morning she let her tears fall

For fallen angels, fallen soldiers, falls from grace, fallen women, for it all

Her tears flooded her city, hurricane the world

But no one seem to notice the cries of this hiccupping girl

She stood remembering those who were buried in the earth

Buried with merit, buried forgotten, buried heroes, buried happiness and mirth

Jealous that they didn’t have to witness freedom become a curse,

Witness love become a curse, witness hope become a curse,

Witness hatred and ignorance plague the earth

She wiped away her tears, waiting for her sobs to subside

She walked up to the people gathered, her voice clear, her eyes wide

Reminding her people of these last 7 years, she said:

“I remember a time when water was less abundant that tears.

A time when songs of hope filled the air, rather than battle cry cheers

I remember a time when people were on the rise

Empowering themselves, rather than setting up their demise

And although I stand before, a sister of this era and time

Who stood with you frozen, motionless, seeing the surplus of crime

I also stand before you as a voice to remind

That there is still more pain in the world, it has not died

Under the collapse of the two towers, not buried, it still rampant and alive

There’s still homelessness, bigotry, racism, and lies

There’s still oppression, underpay and healthcare denial

There’s still hate, manipulation, stereotyping and racial profiles

So, I stand before as a witness of these crimes

That happened not only 7 years ago, but before then and till this day, this moment of time

And I ask you to remember all those you have denied

Because injustice is not just a past moment in our time

It is recurrent, current, happening in front of our eyes

So hold that thought closely, tightly to your mind

Because the only battle that should be fought is the one with your soul

By pretending injustice doesn’t happen, remaining aloof, untouched, cold

I ask of you to remember the stories of those left untold

Because injustice is everyday when you don’t hold

Yourself accountable”

She walked away from the stage, away from the crowd gathered

Prayed that change was near, that faith and hope wasn’t shattered

She closed her eyes one last time thinking this was it

Another anniversary of that infamous day, and maybe today would be the day that reality will hit.

----

Saturday, August 23, 2008

heart beat

So, I was sitting there at the echo verse where LaTerry Aaron (i think that was her name) was being featured, and everytime I heard her perform, she does her peices about spirituality, love, and faith. This morning... I woke up, and I started writing.
The amazing thing about faith is that, regardless of a person's faith, spirituality always seeps onto you, even for the moment. And i realized, even though for LaTerry, in her poetry, her faith seemed like a safe-haven, somewhere she can easily retreat to, for me, to find my faith it's always a battle. (see my older peice, called a love letter), it always happens that I write my 'spiritual poetry' when i'm feeling down. but as I was sitting there reflecting at the different expressions of faith (like J.Y.'s masterpiece), that's exactly how it'll be, different, accomodating to each different individual.
For me, I am in constant angst, you hear it alot in my poetry, things like 'i am frustration'... and well, me and my faith, well i know i love God, I know i love Islam, because it just seems so intune with everyone, regardless of the stereotypes put out by the media, for me, my faith will always be an internal struggle, a fight, and that's just who i am... and i guess this is a piece on what that struggle might look like.
---

I don't know how to wrap my mind around this, let alone my words
I'm running head on into battle, without a shield, and a blunted sword
Hearing banshee shrieks erupt from my throat
as I face off my demons, in my imaginary world
internal warfare, mind versus soul
skipping over a tight rope walk between reality and the unseen
anonymously wanted, convicted by angels in my dreams
someone holds me in the palm of their hand
and places me on the life-sized rubber band
sling shotted, out of the realm, out of where i pretended to be
thinking that i am everything that i appear to be
but I realize that I'm restless, pained, and in fear
because everything i was taught in Sunday school, is starting to come clear
I walk like a kid, face painted at a carnival
holding cotton candy, as my sugary arsenal
stuck in a cookie monster complex,
that i'll always have easy access to the jar
by putting out a fierce image, scruffy, blue, scarred
scared, to hand over my heart's 4 chambers
for something beyond, what my eyes can see,
what my fingers can feel,
beyond taste and smell, and what my ears hear
and far beyond what my imagination is worth
because i took a silent oath before my birth
which implanted itself in my unbeating heart
made it's way through my nerve endings
pumped away through my arteries and veins, more beautiful that Mozart
i attempt to resist this, what i see as an invasion on my soul
something that is beyond my comprehension, far beyond my control
and although i started off militarily, fighting for control
I relinquish it, step aside, and take on the measly role of
patrolling my innermost thoughts, but never understanding their words
because speaking to myself, is like speaking English in Creole
I feel like a gypsy walking on hot coal
giving off the air of fascination, when my feet are burning at their soles
feeling like a doppelganger, fighting for the fleshy body, to inhabit. this soul
makes its way, past the fighting and screams of my mind
past the rivers and pastures of this life
past the crosses and nooses and the strife
past the doctors, nurses, and midwives
who attempt to salvage what is left of me
because my EKG reads, not one beep
my heart beat stilled waiting for the skin deep
exorcism of my doubts and creeps
and the resurrection of my faith from sleep
the water is thrown in my face,
an epiphany is at hand, about to take place
and my faith makes way to it's rightful place
back to my heart, which is connected to my nerves and veins
which wrap around my organs and brain
and I realize that my limbs no longer resist me
no longer fight me,
cuz the battle was fought clumsily
the flag of surrender was raised quickly
and I inhale everything much more sweetly
because my heart is beating involuntarily, voluntarily
with a purpose beyond me
my heart is beating
la i- llaha-illah-Allah
in unison with everything
because this is a test of alchemy
since my soul is merging with everything
my heart beats in unison
with the winds caress on the trees
the suns evaporation of tears
the clouds shading of fears
the birth, death and rebirth of nature's green
my heart beats
la i-llaha-illah-Allah
and i just gave up what i thought was everything
for what is truly everything
abandoned my pride,
laid my shield to the side
yielded, even though i fought it my whole life
my heart beats
la i-llaha-illah-Allah


----

for those who don't know what 'la illaha illah Allah' means, it means "there is no God but God"

Sunday, June 15, 2008

Suspended

So, I wrote this piece before I left for Syria, the day I found out my uncle passed away. I was soo frustrated that I started writing... But all my poetry turns political... :x Anyway. Read away:

Suspended

in time, in air, in fear

of everything for everyone, everywhere

Like i just backed up into a traffic jam

road blocked state of mind

stuck in a perpetual purgatory of hurt

Skidding, spiraling, sliding, slumping into an self-created inferno

Only to be burnt by lighting both sides of the candle

Lack of control, with no real handle on life

Bungee jumping into a symphony of self pity

Every smack against the dried ground like the beating of drums

Or is it my heart beating, thumping, pumping

Or did I rip out my mind

only to feel my vertebrae echo like the crack of a whip

As I continue to slip out of reality

And dip into a delusional fantasy

So that I don't have to deal with life

Because every morning is like a bolus shot

Of numbness crawling up my left arm

And my vicodin to ease the pain is the ninth stop at the coffee shop

Tuned back into being a machinated piece of the system

No thoughts, no words, no actions

Silence, the companion of static on this radio station

Of control.

Our emotions as fickle as channel surfing

We hear:

Suicide bomber click

Shop lifting click

Alligator bites click

Health care kills click

Play station upgrade click

Drive by click

Hunger strike click

Union fights click

Mother dies click

Guns sold click

Teenage rape click

Heroine addict click

Terrorist rampage click

Plastic surgery click

Child molested click

Prada the new click

Summer snow click

Cure to aids click

Britney fakes click

Obama's race click

Till the only constant to stick is the mind on autopilot

Because everyone is ADHD, and OD'd on Ritalin

While society creates a tunnel vision

Of what to follow, and anyone out on the periphery

Is blasphemously a threat to the very nature of humanity

The focus hones into only one clarity

Homogeneity is the source of all good

And defying the norm, means you're misunderstood

Knowing the truth, makes you a crook

And history is only one more fairytale book to be told

So that along with our minds, our bodies can be sold

Into a slavery of forgotten self-worth

And as the process continues we become processed goods

Sold over the counter, till all you could do

Is wait on the shelf for someone to acknowledge you

Maybe pat you on the head, give you a gold star

Because you forgot about how messed up the world is so far

You deleted memories of racism and pride

You were debooted, misplacing all the truths you had to hide

Downloaded a virus that made you forget

How Palestinians were stripped of their identity

Just as blacks were robbed of their identity

Just like Arabs are stereotyped by their identity

Just like natives were raped of their identity

Just like Hispanics were pillaged of their identity

Just like the Irish were forced to water down their identity

Just like Muslims are coerced to compromise their identity

Just like youth are told to give up their identity

So, even though I'm spiraling down into oblivion

I leech out the poison their IV-ing into my skin

I break my knees so I can get down and pray

For me not to succumb to their mainstream ways

Yeah, my problems chuck me down into self-hate at times

But at least I'm not one more figure stuck in the regulated lines

Of control.

Because my motto is "speak your mind"

(Feel free to leave comments you wild people you...)