Wednesday, 31 December 2014

Poet's Block

It’s stuck in my throat
It refuses to go in, it fails to come out
All it does all day
is ruin the taste of what I eat,
All it does
is flavor the words that I say;
I don’t know what it wants
This poem that needs to leave
But wants to stay.

Sunday, 28 December 2014

There are two kinds of happy places in my head
Scene one is in summers
Scene two in the depths of winters
Here I am lying on the sand, near a beach
There I sit, in the fog next to a bonfire
Here, no clothes, just my skin and the wind
There, wrapped around in the arms of someone I love
Here, the sound of waves filling up my senses
There, the calming music of your breath
Here, the scent of water
There, the perfume of your skin
Here, the quiet bursting dance of being independent
There, the joy of never feeling alone again.

Monday, 15 December 2014

How to really break up with someone

You don’t have to say it again and again
Sometimes it doesn't work;
You can try not talking to him for a while
But it’s difficult to forget a face so beautiful;
Try hating him for no reason
But you’ll end up hating yourself;
Try, if you can, to fall in love with someone else
But we all know the Ross/ Russ story*;

Ask me how to really break up with someone
And I’ll tell you
Tell him the truth
He’ll run away.



*refer to Friends, Season 2 Episode 10

Sunday, 14 December 2014

A Poem by a Woman

I poop. I have hair everywhere.
Above my lips and below them.
I have hair in places you always thought had none.
I have hair in places you want to visit, check out.
I have eyebrows that are shaped every three weeks
to look like a curve, a road, a neat path
so that you don’t feel lost when you see me.
I also pee. Sometimes I fart.
I sneeze, more than a quiet sound, and then things come out of my nose.
I love laughing out loud even if I sound like a witch.
My eyes are not always full of kohl.
Sometimes my lips have more than a coat of gloss,
They have anger, and bitter words.
Sometimes, I cry. I’m not always happy and smiling.
There are nights when under the sheets
my hands slip into my underwear,
I masturbate.
Some days my shoulders hunch, I don’t always walk straight
And I like to sit with my legs wide open.
Once every month, I menstruate for four days
There’s blood, it’s thick and red and dark
And it hurts, and it flows continuously,
Also, my clothes hide it well,
but I have a tummy and marks and scars
from childhood games.

Every day you expect me to hide who I am
from you
So that I can become an image you can idolize
an object too perfect.
But, when you cut me, I bleed.
I’m human.

Tuesday, 2 December 2014

Things I Think of When I Look at the Stars

I stare at all those stars hurdled together,
so natural, almost like dandruff in someone's hair
and think to myself how happy they look together
but also how far they are from each other,
but there are so many, so many stars in the sky;
I ask them if they look after each other
take care of each other, or just live on their own;
I often think to myself that there are
so many people in the world, so many people,
then why should anyone ever have to feel alone?