Poems for 72 Days, Day 3

Lusting to travel
Between minds, within times
Underneath the two crescent moons rising over the expanse of your skyline
Lost in the blinding ecstasy of a parting seas
Unfolding your lips
I get lost

Lusting to travel
To the depth of your essence, the crown within you

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Reasons it hasn't worked

I like men who impress me Lots of women like them I am sacrificial in what I want Forthright in what I need I like only him He is egotistical He has power by way of his intelligence or pursuit Lots of women like him He likes lots of women He does not know how to be a man and be with me. Poems for 72 Days, Poem 11 Inspired by Warsan Shire - Excuses For Why We Failed at Love
Read more

Gender Politics: My take on B*tch & Lupe's B*tch Bad

I am not well versed in gender politics but in my limited understanding of the matter, I would define it as the social relations and discourse on how people of the same and/or opposite gender/genders [gender being the social construct of one's sex] interact with each other and how policy governs these relations. Gender politics is easily the most interesting topic I have dealt with this summer. Away from the sheltered environment of my campus community of hipsters, progressives, and activists, I am finally living the reality of the discourse which took place in my college courses, friends' dorms, cafeteria, womyn's collective, and on my Newsfeed - respectability politics, feminism, patriarchy, and misogyny. So far, so good. It has not been (that) bad. It is just that for the most part, gender politics does not matter in much the same way to the people I know/have met away from college as it did to those I met in college. To make a gross generalization, there are people w
Read more

Unending goodbyes

First, for my grandma. Then, everyone I think about often in this experience called immigration. A poem to be performed for my grandma. Grandma, I am still looking From above, I see greenlush somewhere Soon beneath me, the sea Atop, the blue-black midnight sky Below is blue pain, water the depth of this immeasurable distance Someone asks, "sweetheart, what do you want to eat?" My stomach turns, flight food I am churning memories I have ingested but time, time swallows I can't necessarily recollect and condense, like cumulus clouds, our togetherness Scattered perceptions of watching you sell tomatoes to someone. A thief. Church. A running crab. A mango tree; the sweet taboo of too ripe brown mangoes Lizards. Listening to uncle listen to Marley and Dube. Sharing one bed. I long for the comfort of being cramped in one room with everyone I know Empty space is loneliness, I despise a room of my own If I had ever known sleep, it was only my rest underneath
Read more