Death is a white man with alabaster skin,
pretty blonde hair,
and eyes grey as a monsoon sky.
I met him just last week
In a dream where old friends became strangers
and god was nowhere to be found.
Death was a man
and there was no fire, no streets paved in gold,
nothing waiting for me-
just a polite gentleman with a black Cadillac
ready to take me on my last ride.
He opened the door to the back and led me in,
whispering secrets I could not comprehend and
answering the questions that were running amuck in my mind.
Then he closed my coffin shut and all I knew was darkness.
There I lay,
as I felt the car move at blinding speeds on a curved road
much like the ones back home.
I wondered why my last ride was so miserable,
But then I heard him say it was for the best.
It was better for me to feel and not see
The life I passed by.
So that when we reached,
my heart would be free
to turn to dust and
return to nothingness.
For suddenly I remembered all the people I loved
And all ones I hated
And in that moment, I did not care anymore.
I became free.
Free to approach annihilation.
Free to die.
You see, Love is strange. But, death is stranger.(more…)
Am I a dilapidated structure that looks like a castle on the outside?
A mirage in a wet desert of unclean dreams and forbidden conversation?
Or am I real like your breathing on my neck, gentle nudges towards the sad, narrow path?
Tell me, who I am. (more…)
Narratives are often exaggerated
for fear of unaroused laughter and silent
mockers. There are those that wear diamonds
in their ears and walk around with side swept hair
and burnt broccoli in the pockets of their white collared shirts.
They do not care for comical stories of unrealized
imaginations and dreams of blemished rejects,
dark skinned and unlike their distant loves.
The world may talk of new beauty beyond sizes
and colors. I know white creams and botox
still make the most money.
Because he loved me the least and he hurt me the most.
Because somewhere I got tired of still waters.
I fell for tsunami waves, crashing on my shore
destroying every little piece of me. I hated him in the beginning.
I hated him in the end, but somewhere in between
I fell in love with the idea that the roar in his waters was meant for me.
He screamed and cried, and I cried too. And somewhere there
I began to see the words and melody that formed on my lips. It was
magic. But the painful kind. (more…)
Battles can be long and the fallout may be ambiguous as the yellow man’s stand on the white man’s issues.
Three weeks and three days of working with a repulsive character is tiring; but in the end, when a hundred beautiful souls line up just to listen to the sound of your beating heart, the battle is worth it and that battle, I will fight. The brutal release of bullet sentences are worth it.
Harbouring hate is playing Russian roulette. I choose love.
An invisible friend’s hand is on the achievement of my day. This battle has been long but ask me any day, I’ll fight it again. (more…)