do not vault yourself from me.
Please, give me a code that unlocks
all your pains, secrets, agonies.
I am a student, so educate me
until I can recite each fact
in your life story.
The stage is yours,
so narrate your inner tragedies.
Stand with me, off-load those honest
memories that left mine-fields in your heart:
What Daddy did and didn’t do;
what Mommy said and didn’t say;
how the first time wasn’t by choice;
how dark urges clouded all sense of purpose.
Share your issues and I’ll share mine.
Let us plant new orchards
in the desert of our past lives.
where would we stand
In a mystic, cosmic sense?
‘Cause I know The Almighty
altered the universal order
To rotate your life around mine.
Fine, the interstellar gyrations
that levitate our hearts in synch
didn’t move so smoothly.
There had to be space-splitting
combustions of core wounds
before our orbits could align again.
Only then could our bodies sing
a spontaneous duet in the stars,
charting endless chords of celestial
lineages across the dimensions.
What use would
to aid my feelings
If crimson hues
across the soul
then mine is sky blue
not from melancholy
when I’m apart from you
but from the thought
of our union
lifting us to unbound realms
beyond man’s lofty reach
So teach me how to speak
those words I deeply lock away
Beyond cards, roses, chocolate hearts
just stay, listen, forgive my mistakes
help me grow wings to join you
as our love departs this cage
of human age
My first poetry series of 2015! Throughout the month of February I will be posting poems that deal with the theme of love and human affection. Enjoy!
I Do Not Fantasize
I do not fantasize my hands against your buoyant, airy skin. I do not fantasize the copious taste
of your mouth. Nor do I see us lost in consummate embrace, fighting for air as we drown
in our affection. Not yet. Not while a chasm of pride and inhibitions divides me from you.
Not while your graceful ways guide me out to sea where tidal waves of unconscious pains
aim to cast our souls adrift. Not till I have you, and you me, in blessed matrimony; completely,
deeply offering ourselves to Whatever May Come. Only then will your alluring form arrest me,
because you’re not a phantasmic form, but an enamored being that feels, that exists, that be.
Short poem 10.
For the Iraqi Kurdish village of Kulajo
I remember you.
You were my mother, father,
sister, brother, uncle, aunt.
Though our last names never met,
we were sewn like thread at the seams
by the weddings, harvests, births and burials
our households shared.
And while planes and tanks spat fire on our heads,
while guns made us wandering souls,
the bond of our communal blood helped us to endure.
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Short poem 9.
The cushion sits there.
Sun-washed, torn, flake-dry
stuffing moldy from the rain.
Like me —
strapped on a ride down a third-culture stream
observing, like that cushion at the yard,
the world’s idiosyncrasies,
while not yet realizing
how much they’ve affected me.
Short poem 8
When I beat the drum of hate
I feel its vibrations tear fissures
in the mould of my soul.
But when I beat the drum of love
I hear its song soar up and outward
liberating the ears of beholders
liberating my own humanity.
Short poem 7.
in tandem with the beat
that keeps sweat flowing, blood coursing
on the technicolor floor
In physical synchronicity
back-burning our lives on the stove of Friday nights.
Short poem 6.
I carry dust in my hands
of ancestors handcuffed and shipped
across the Middle seas
And like Adam I wait to plant my seed
in that fertile dust
to be the author of tales untold
in the dank depths of the cargo hold.
Short poem 5 (revised).
I have heard those old school hip-hop songs –
long gone –
that rapped of civil resistance to the system,
made profanity a metaphor for civil rage.
That are – long gone.
Evolved into misguided flows and rhymes
of sex, drugs, greed and misogyny.
Blind, to a broken, burning world
in need of verse attune to reality.