Arabian Poetry

Inanimate

 

You say that I’m a jewel and that I’m meant to be hidden

Don’t you wear jewelry on your neck? Or do you let it become dust-ridden?

You say that I’m beautiful, that I should be veiled

Beautiful I am, but you want my beauty jailed

 

 

You call me a mother, a daughter, a sister

But I haven’t heard you call me a woman, mister

Call me one

Independent, not an addition

I am not one for submission

 

 

You tell me covering is honor

Cloaking is honor

Hiding is honor

But honor, your honor, isn’t between my legs

Honor is in the thoughts in

my head

 

 

You say that I should cover my hair 

You say this as the air

plays with yours

 

 

You say that I’m a jewel

You call me inanimate

I am not inanimate

Thoughts

It’s like when you repeat a word over and over and it loses meaning. It becomes just a sound.

It’s the same when you look at your life, or just life, and think of it and keep looking and keep thinking and you see nothing and think of nothing. It’s like it’s not real. It becomes nothing. 

Sometimes I’m not even sure if it’s real. I don’t debate whether it is or not -because that’s just silly. I just get on with things. Everybody does, but them knowing in the back of their heads that it is. But I don’t think of it much. If I were asked I wouldn’t know because I just get on with things. But that’s not the reason. Sometimes I think until the thought means nothing and I end up thinking I was thinking of nothing.

 

Do you get it? 

Absence

An idle continuation of

a happening of choice

absent.

Redundant existence of loitering days

and nights; skulking.

The timely squall visits yet again, once again, lurking.

Embezzled dreams once longed for; now lost,

and today; forgotten.

Ambitions improbable; in any case impossible

Dreams of voyage that torture:

A peaceful slumber, constant, for all time

A goodbye, plausible; quite possible

Eternal void

turned

eternal rest.

Yes, I am

falling.

Between the bars

Drink up, baby. It’ll make you okay. I’ll make you okay. I won’t change anything, but I’ll make you forget. I’ll take you away. And once we’re back, I’ll still be here. I always will be.

I’ll make you forget them all, forget who they are. Your place, where you are. You are with me now. You’re all that matters now. The redundancy of your days, we’ll disregard them. The worthlessness of your hours, we’ll fritter more. Your insignificance, we will cherish. Your misery we will relish.  We are in the now, and now, you are away. Yesterday does not matter with me. Neither does tomorrow.  We live today, and today I will take you with me.

You can be lonely with me. You can feel sad. You can cry. I will let you be. I will try. I will be with you, but I won’t stop you. And I won’t tell anyone. You can escape without leaving them. They matter too much to be left. That’s why I’m here. To take you away when you cannot go.

There’s nothing wrong. There is nothing. All there is, is nothing.

It won’t change anything. It won’t help either. Just let you carry on.

Come with me now. Let me take you now.

I have you now.

Talking too much

Is it bad? I don’t know.

I’ve always been a talkative person, at least around people I’m comfortable with. I’ve been dubbed with nicknames by family all through my childhood of or pertaining to being so. It’s a personality trait for me; a second nature.

Wise people are always depicted as being composed, collected, self-possessed. Never talkative. Talkativeness I think has negative connotations, with garrulity. I don’t want those two qualities confused. I for one do know I tend to speak more often than not, but not in a ‘not nice’ way (at least I hope that’s not the case). I don’t know. Why do I sometimes can’t help but feel that it is ‘not nice’? Of course, if one talks a lot, the chances that they speak crap are higher than those who don’t, because well, there’s more talking happening. More chatter, more natter.

Sometimes, I’d get a whim to just stop talking. Decide that, that’s it, I’d stop being talkative. It never worked. In fact, it would be difficult. It was conscious, I’d be constantly thinking of not talking, because I’d constantly be wanting to.

I remember as a child, probably 7 or 8 years old, I was in the playground at school. We had a girl in our class, so calm and shy. She never spoke. I was jealous of that. I remember her nose was bleeding that day, she stood under the shade with tissues fiddling around under the shade. I remember looking at her and thinking ‘I want to be like that’. I don’t know why I thought that talking was such an incompetence.

Maybe because it is. I digress too much.

Lost

People are surrounding you; you’re not alone. You have your family. You have your friends. You have your lover. But you are lonely.

You relentlessly linger, laze, and loiter. You find it mundane, meek, and mediocre. You render them lower, lesser, and worse.

You’re lethargic. Without energy. Without power; powerless. Without direction; directionless.Your life is hapless, and you, hopeless.

Always looking for something, always. Never have you found it, but never did you stop. Constantly lost, in a yearning search, on a longing pursuit; it’s a never-ending desire. You’re looking for something, wanting something. Who is it? What is it?

You thought you found it. You let it go, you let go. Break up, break off and break away. Time and time again.

But then, things changed. Someone became something. This time you didn’t let go. How could you? He’s everything you have ever wanted. The exact reason you want to. Too good. Too good to be true.

It is not true.

Is it?

Only you choose whether it’s worth it. Whether it’s worth the inevitable hurt. The very hurt you now contain, carry down, and carry on. The strangling, the choking, the heart beats; all that’s buried down.

If you decide it worth it, decide it true, if you let it be true: dig a bigger pit. Let it be ceaseless, only then will it suffice.

A question difficult to answer. Yes, you can not answer. You remain, for now, still lost. Still searching, still pursuing. In a never-ending desire.

You do not want to answer.

No tears anymore

 

I fight to contain my tears. The door is wide open, I can hear them talking outside. But I can’t help it. I can’t keep it in this long. Someone just passed, I look up, smile. The tears still in place. I can’t help it. I think of him and burst into tears. Thoughts race in my head, a thousand memories. A thousand more. Feels like an eternity together, and the end of. A quarter of my life I spent, with him.

We fought dozens upon dozens of times, but not that time.  We always made up, except that time. It was unprompted, to him.  I was contemplating it for months.

Did I do the right thing? It does not matter. Not one bit. No, because it’s too late. All hope, for anything, absolutely anything, is absolutely obliterated. By me, solely. My chest heaves at that thought, my heart clenches. Emotions so indefinite yet so familiar strangle me, taunt me, daunt me, loom around my head, attacking: ‘It’s all your fucking fault.’ I scream, it echoes unheard.

A quarter of my life I frittered, with him.

My mind is drained. My eyes impassive. I am unmoved.

No tears anymore.

 

Careless, but carefree.

It’s amazing how a single song can stir so much emotion, dig up so many memories, lift, and drop your soul.

It deluges you, with feelings long forgotten, striking you. It takes you away, far far away, to wherever.

You feel it, on your skin, underneath it. Your senses hammered.

It takes you away. Al Khawaneej Road, 3 am, spontaneity, youth, innocence. Long ago.

You remember it all. You are there. The AC blowing cold. The sky dark, masked in orange; the street lamps were bright. He looks at you, you stare. ‘Stop biting your nails!’ You laugh, both. So long ago. You remember it all.

The song ends.

Another begins.

You listen. You close your eyes – you are there. ‘Could I have this kiss forever?’ You lean towards each other. Your lips unite. You kiss, smiling. You’re young. Careless, but carefree.

Shower Power?

Last night, while in bed, I got this cool idea for a post, or just something I wanted to talk about I guess, but I was about to sleep, so I just made a ‘mental note’ of it, I knew that I’d forget what it was about, but I wasn’t bothered to get up and jot it down so I told myself that I’d remember. I didn’t. I’m sure it was nothing, but still I want to know what nothing it was.

This always happens to me, I get really cool ideas (although in hindsight they usually aren’t), but then just completely forget them. It seems that I get my most splendid ideas and thoughts in the shower, and every time I’m actually in the shower I think of something then go like, ‘well there’s something to blab about’, but as you can see I’m now just left blabbing about not knowing what that something is!

Though seriously, don’t you feel you think most during showers? I think for me it’s because I have nothing else to do, I get very lazy, and sometimes sit (yes I have a chair in my shower cabin), and do nothing, or just think, about nothing. Or about things. I need one of those shower-note thingies. Do they even exist? They should. Or you know, maybe I feel that I get my best ideas or just thoughts during showers because I can’t actually record them, so then I’m left feeling all smart and thoughtful, but if I actually knew what they were after, I might not feel so. You know what I mean?  It’s like I feel that they were worthy intelligent ideas and thoughts only because I don’t really know/remember what they were, ’cause if I actually did, they’d probably not be.

OK nothing.

This Mess We’re In – PJ Harvey and Thom Yorke.

This Mess We’re In – PJ Harvey and Thom Yorke.

This song just [insert verb] me. Just hearing it, it gives me chills. Without even listening to the lyrics, just the tune, the tone, the voices. I don’t know. It evokes so much emotion, emotion I didn’t even know existed. Since I haven’t heard it before, it isn’t to me associated with a certain period in my life, yet it still takes me to kind of non-existent memories. I don’t know how to explain it. You know when you hear a song, or smell a distinct smell. and it reminds you of and takes you to a certain place/time/memory? The same thing happens to me except that I don’t know what this place/time/memory is. Maybe because the tune is similar to a song I used to listen to a lot before, but don’t really remember, or maybe I’m just weird.

.

Anyways, what are your [insert verb] songs?