tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68411686913110047122024-03-12T17:02:51.799-07:00Bantu MigrationsOnce...
There was a queendom
called Eden..
And then it birthed the world.Mukh.Tah.Rah[t]:The Chosenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07348839501368360706noreply@blogger.comBlogger132125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6841168691311004712.post-73016659338271450222011-02-07T10:48:00.000-08:002011-02-07T11:05:03.621-08:00Morning Freewrite<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">I don't know why I'm back in the habit of posting, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">I might just be THAT lonely.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">Freewrite I had to stop writing before it killed me.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">Good morning.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">--------------------------------</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">Sangre* or Sangria<br />I am 16 but I have always looked </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">like that Frida painting</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">And overflowing pitchers </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">in the middle of an earthquake</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">in that hall way spilling light</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">How do you say,</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><br /></span></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">I ate but didn't know how to</span></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">I was forced to live but didn't know how to</span></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">so I sat in the hall way of a hospital </span></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">and let it poor, the sangre, all of it</span></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">how it wanted to</span></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">I've never seen so much from myself</span></i></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">How do you say that shit poetically,</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">How do you say I didn't try to kill myself,</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">but I would have let myself die.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><br />* for some reason, </span><i><a href="http://www.smc.edu/voices/forerunner/fall2001/directories/stories_poems/twofridas.gif"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">Las Dos Fridas</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> is titled </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">Sangre or Sangria</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> to me</span></div>Mukh.Tah.Rah[t]:The Chosenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07348839501368360706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6841168691311004712.post-39935003287757675472011-02-06T21:03:00.000-08:002011-02-06T21:09:47.396-08:00Out of One Many Africas<span style="font-style:italic;">For the handful of Continent Cliff Hangers That Have Found Me, Despite the Distance</span><br /><b><br />Out of One, Many Africas<br /></b><br />Draft #2<br /><br />No one could split us like we split us<br />here, where we were born,<br />in the April of our sour left to fester<br /><br />In the maple of our mothers turned amber,<br />Your mother,<br />in her Josephine hidden<br />a boarded bosom and wrapped head away from bare chest<br />Mine, tribal marks and accented away from mammy.<br />Our mothers<br /><br />Will sit and talk of in third person<br />The people their daughters<br />Call sister,<br />Call brother<br /><br />Wash the work and human<br />of their jobs that help<br />“those people”<br />off as quickly as sweat<br /><br /><br />They will forget themselves,<br />their second generation children<br />The hypocrisy, lack of meaning<br />that comes in the niggerdom<br />they let slip.<br /><br />And after, perhaps,<br />they will both go pray<br />and Mine will be distracted<br />by the skin of yours<br />glinting golden pink,<br />the accent too, for once<br />that makes her<br />some latitudes and languages<br />and latitudes closer to God<br /><br />They will be praying to the same one,<br />in the same mosque,<br />maybe,<br /><br />If all the others burn down<br />and neither<br />“African” nor “Arab”<br />can find a place to go.Mukh.Tah.Rah[t]:The Chosenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07348839501368360706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6841168691311004712.post-76782762288410918582010-11-17T12:43:00.001-08:002010-11-17T12:43:26.659-08:001116* Eid Al-Adha is the "Festival of Sacrifice" or "Greater Eid" is an important religious holiday celebrated by Muslims worldwide to commemorate the willingness of Abraham (Ibrahim) to sacrifice his son Ishmael (Isma'il) as an act of obedience to God.d al-Adha is celebrated annually on the 10th day of the 12th and the last Islamic month of Dhu al-Hijjah. Eid al-Adha celebrations start after the Hajj, the annual pilgrimage toMecca in Saudi Arabia by Muslims worldwide, descend from Mount Arafat. <br /><br /><br /><br />They say they can tell when a woman has lost her god<br />that our tongues become heaving and burdened<br />when our heads become light and bare<br /><br />There are promises on this campus<br />packed and folded away into drawers<br />where they can drape over the good chance <br />that we've been lied to<br /><br />Biases we hold hidden in class rooms <br />where subordinate and subjugated are used for us<br />are used because<br />ones like patriarchy hit too close to home<br />for these people<br /><br />A faith based anachronism,<br />a time capsule of traditionalism preserving a past <br />no one is ever too sure about<br />an exhibit, praying in a museum <br />with all the other art pieces<br />there are drapes for the statues with eyes<br />for the pictures with eyes<br />for us women from eyes<br /><br /><br />Bodies pasted in lines <br />shillouttes of impressionist vision<br />pointillism women turned into rounds of color and fabric <br />into blank spots in a bigger picture again<br />molded into the quiet in solidarity with the nostalgia <br />still present in the way we worship<br />it is only for a day,<br />maybe for an hour<br /><br />Even lost and godless<br />you'll see our tongues tuck in <br />so our promises can unfurl again<br />every Al-Adha<br />every festival of sacrifice<br /><br />Every sacrifice for a religion <br />In pilgrimage honoring pilgrimage<br />those still searching <br />that have crossed sands, <br />climbed pillars of silk and salt<br />those that have thrown stones, <br />that are always throwing stones<br /><br />All those towards Mecca, <br /><br />at the end of their hajj<br />with their God and religion<br />Wandering<br />Wandering<br />Wandering,<br />like us,<br />in circlesMukh.Tah.Rah[t]:The Chosenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07348839501368360706noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6841168691311004712.post-37559549595171559082010-11-08T07:15:00.000-08:002010-11-08T07:25:11.032-08:00Children of Men (freewrite, rough draft)There will be more traumas, I presume.<br />Each documented in hopes they will lean<br /> more towards blasphemy someday.<br />I do not want this for my honest.<br />Do not want pain for my truth<br /><br />In 20 years the brunt of a world collapsing <br />upon itself has folded me paper crane.<br />And like them, it is easy to forget how quickly<br />the drowning seeps through.<br /><br />I am not a genuine creature of flight, <br />but this is not fake water<br /><br />In 20 years I have learned to love things <br />that don't stay long enough to watch me crumble<br />In 20 years I have learned to make my skin a pamphlet of pleas<br />from a woman striving to change somebody's mind.<br />And like so many love letters<br />I am found wandering through my travels<br />hoping to catch my lovers ear<br />lost in a shuffle of demands<br />on some strange terrain<br />with no return address<br />and a stamp reading <br />"return to sender"<br /><br />He does not cry over women<br /> did not know that <br />the nights he spent on the floors of our markets,<br />in the cracks of our country of our land baked him dry.<br /><br /><br />I ,9years old<br /> a laundry list of prayers and despites,<br /> a young girl creating all she will be <br />by what she will not, and all she will not<br />by what she has seen.<br />I found my purpose in what he was not<br /><br />It was a pain to watch my father cry <br />letting out what little water was left.<br />Paving his drought and dusty dams<br />into a circling road,<br />one that would take him nowhere<br />far from where he is now.<br /><br />This water, lost when his mother left<br />when life betrayed him<br />this water<br />nowhere to be found at the tragedy<br />of more loss. The deaths of his children<br />No where to be found, not like this<br /><br />Not like my father<br />in the front seat of a taxi cab<br /> he never pays dues on<br />in a suit bought <br />with the good conscience <br />that his children may be hungry and in want,<br />maybe market floored<br />houseless sun-baked-dry one day<br />all the water drained out of them<br /><br />My father crying over a woman he beats<br />has cut,has lacerated troughs into her desert<br />Showing me the little water he has left,<br />has irrigated from her<br />offering a sacrifice<br />in a moment that wont leave me in 10 years<br /><br />The moment Mohammad Yussuff<br />showed some sign in the dry soul of his skin,<br />that he might still be able to grow.<br /><br />He was floods of everyman he was named after<br />Someone says the water will drown him one day,<br />it does. I do not know men that cry like him<br />but there was a boy<br />who learned the river and ocean of his mother<br />and sisters,<br />who swallowed their<br /> moon to drown the ditch dug crevices,<br />make them bear water again, and maybe even fruit.<br /><br />Bobby, <br />Mohammad, our father's namesake,<br />my cactus in a field of mirages and thirst<br />should you have learned to grow throns<br />as they asked of you<br />I would have nothing left.<br />You had no thorns to protect you<br />and so I have nothing left.<br />But the faint and fading memories of the only man<br />that loved me the right way.<br />My brother,<br />who sacrificed his life in hopes<br /> that another young man<br /> may hold on long enough <br />to tell the story<br /><br />A boy ,who let a another he barely knew<br />cross a road, a dry path, <br />with destination in front of him<br />showed him to quench,<br />Was struck by a force much larger than him<br />heaved so high all this liquid<br />rained back into the heavens<br />left us wanting<br /><br /><br />You are my last,<br />my lasts always are<br />they cannot keep you here,<br />menelik,<br />tell me<br />your water still seeps through <br />your skin like mine<br />Have you heard me, my droughts<br />that I am unquenched<br />Tell me your water still seeps through your skin like mine<br />That you are still a conservatory<br />mornings of trickles, hurricanes<br />the sounds that give me hope<br />shouting through flesh worn doors<br />make me happy i never listened to anything else<br />That I do not read the signs meant to keep people out<br />Tell me that I am not another catastrophe<br />of women <br />drowned<br />stretched<br />and beaten<br />drowned, stretched, and beaten<br />soaked<br />crumbled<br />and left wrinkling.<br /><br />You've said before<br />you will not cry over a woman again.<br />that your water will find itself nowhere here<br /><br />made blasphemy of hope for this land,<br />these cravings and prayers left deep<br /> landing hard on my pathways<br />after promising to make blasphemy of my doubts.<br /><br />You must not know<br />what happens to men<br />that take the water out of women<br />Let them make their wet offerings<br />to find their shrines left with little or nothing in return.<br /><br />Meet my father.<br />ask him how I got this way.<br />Tell him of the woman I've become<br /> with roots drowning<br />crumbling chewed paper-wet <br />Branches cracking<br />Always trying to be a symbol of growth<br />in a land that says<br />It wants none.Mukh.Tah.Rah[t]:The Chosenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07348839501368360706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6841168691311004712.post-86351406700895827532010-09-28T19:39:00.000-07:002010-10-01T20:20:33.418-07:00Freewrite? No idea. 5 Things I've Learned From Being in Love<span style="font-style:italic;">Partially inspired by Robin’s “10 things Ive learned from being in this relationship”</span><br /><br /><br />1. How to calculate a 3 hour time difference without thinking, despite sucking at math.<br />1.5 The words “acquiescence” “coalesce” “intentionality” and “moribund”<br />2. FB ruins lives<br />2.5. If you both like ass, and you both stare, its fun…not awkward.<br />3. Skype cuts off after an undisclosed amount of time,<br />so when taking virtual naps, Ichat (which doesn’t cut off) should have been used instead<br />3.5 It is totally worth it to stay awake on the phone until 5 am despite having a class at 8:45<br />4. Long emails and longer phone calls can be HUGE band aids, <br />4.5 sometimes the blood still seeps through<br />5. <br />Long emails <br />unanswered<br />and missed phone calls<br />are enough<br />To make you stop believing in magic<br /><span style="font-style:italic;">(….even if only for a little bit.)</span>Mukh.Tah.Rah[t]:The Chosenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07348839501368360706noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6841168691311004712.post-34865504886512988382010-09-04T21:41:00.001-07:002010-09-04T21:41:45.941-07:00Men use women as currency<br />Tools to play the came of masculinity<br />Raking up chess pieces<br />Even if they're queensMukh.Tah.Rah[t]:The Chosenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07348839501368360706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6841168691311004712.post-50696273244207028882010-08-23T06:07:00.000-07:002010-08-23T06:09:25.961-07:00Hometown is Homesick (prompt from Rose)Home is a place, <br />place is space paused in moment, <br />moment is emotion rubbed into memory<br /><br />Home for me feels like a fleeting moment <br />And lost memory<br />In a space I am not sure can exist anymore <br /><br />My homesickness is hometown<br />I am permanently displaced <br />always half departing venue of<br />supposedly human <br />and supposedly woman<br /><br />I am not sure why I was brought here<br /><br />My spirit still has charred pieces from the transition<br />My body beaks down often from the traveling, the moving<br />The manifestation of my awkward keeps moving to pretend there is somewhere to go <br />as if I have not been lost since offset,<br />since origin<br /><br />Maryland<br />Born<br />a place a year too far away for me to draw memories into it's distance<br />I cannot remember who me is<br />And so, have no whereabouts as to who or where she was<br /><br />I have lost notions of the place that taught me loss, it is where i keep my dead history, the death in my history <br />As if, unlike me, it will stay there<br /><br />DC<br />Is forgotten self made and divinely declared home<br />Loves me like a betraying grandmother<br />Or some other mystic kin<br />Maybe a swinger aunt<br />A husband with amnesia,<br />I am told that we have history <br />But I don't remember what it was like to love you<br /><br />I see the photographs and poems that prove we have been places together<br />But can't remember those feelings<br />I cant help but feel like I am living in someone elses house<br /><br />Nigeria<br />Made<br />Me a child of missing centuries before the wombing <br />We still hold on to the few things that time and space and men with prophetic names like "Lord" divied us<br />It must not miss me like it did before it unlearned how to<br />And is the murderous mountain from which my rolling avalanche of travel fell<br /><br />All of these are places that have changed despite me<br />Have become dismissive emotionally disrespectful memories lost to big pockets dug deep enough to fit big buildings and needed bodies <br /><br />If I had learned nothing of home<br />in people, in memories and emotion<br />I would not know anything of loss<br /><br />I am from every city that asks to be missed for the sake of evidence that someone knew it once<br /><br />The nostalgia floating to the top of any land with the top layer of it's skin burning it unrecognizable<br /><br />This,<br />Is the stomach churning, the gut wrenching place, moment of degorge in yet to be tacit diasporing,<br />The homesick I call hometown<br /><br />One day I will laugh at the audacity of thinking I could be from "somewhere"<br />Sending down a thunderstorm from heaven, in earth they will call it an earthquake, or hurricane,<br />A natural disaster,<br /><br />This world is not my home.Mukh.Tah.Rah[t]:The Chosenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07348839501368360706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6841168691311004712.post-54121168947752968412010-08-10T09:04:00.000-07:002010-08-10T12:04:56.627-07:0010 Questions for a Stranger (Prompt from Jamaica)<div style="text-align: right;font-family:courier new;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">
<br /></span></b></div><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:courier new;font-size:78%;" ><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">“Then his soul is returned to his body, and there come to him two angels who make him sit up and they say to him, ‘Who is your Lord?’"</span></b></div></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><b>
<br /></b></span></span><div style="text-align: left;font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span style="font-size:100%;">10 Questions for a Stranger,
<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">10 Questions the Angels Will Ask You</span>
<br /><span style="font-size:85%;">
<br /></span></span></span></span> <link rel="File-List" href="file://localhost/Users/murktaratyussuff/Library/Caches/TemporaryItems/msoclip/0clip_filelist.xml"> <!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:officedocumentsettings> <o:allowpng/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:trackmoves>false</w:TrackMoves> <w:trackformatting/> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:drawinggridhorizontalspacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing> <w:drawinggridverticalspacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing> <w:displayhorizontaldrawinggridevery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery> <w:displayverticaldrawinggridevery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> <w:dontautofitconstrainedtables/> <w:dontvertalignintxbx/> </w:Compatibility> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="276"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--> <style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:Cambria; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:Cambria; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.0in 1.0in 1.0in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style> <!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--> <!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""> </span><span style=""> </span> 1.When you were younger <i style=""><o:p></o:p></i></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">did you think you could fly?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Can you?</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">
<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:85%;">2.When was your birth,</span></p><div> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:85%;">or creation,</span></p><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:85%;">the one that required you die first.</span></p><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:85%;">How many times did it happen,</span></p><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:85%;">can, will it happen again?</span></p><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Will you spoke plug yourself</span></p><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:85%;">into the churning of a failing world</span></p><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:85%;">knowing there will be spinning,</span></p><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:85%;">For no good reason, maybe.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">
<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">3.Where is your Grandmother,</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">granddaughter, at this exact moment,</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">in your body.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">
<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Could I speak with her?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">What will she say about you?</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">
<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">What kinds of things will be said about you by legacy?</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">
<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">4.When was the last time you had an untellable feeling,</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">an emotion with no name?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">What color was it,</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;"> are you, when you are lonely?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Do you crowd your pain before or after?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Are you a welcoming surrender</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">or a warring wait?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Would you mind if someone sat with you,</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">And asked the place you were</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">the first time something hurt you?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">If the walls shook, the shelves too</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">and if anything fell on you.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">
<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">5.Have you ever longed to tell a stranger</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""> </span>you love them? In an elevator maybe?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Have you ever found intimate </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">the closing space between you.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Wanted to cut the throat of the distance in you.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Chip your doubt over it, strum it like a harp.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Turn it breathing hole, and mouth it flute.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Air waiting to be cradled<span style=""> </span>in your healing,</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">your hospital bed tongue </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">and its unfurling pink sheets.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">6.If you are old and African </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Or any other skin sheathing </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">of lost Gods and vacant history</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Do you smile, cry ever?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Are you afraid to, or simply above such human faulting?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">7.What do you think of skin?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Our see through bones, <span style=""> </span>and creaking entries.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Our spoiling frames and overused doorways.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">What of when it has a tint?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">8.What exactly is love to you?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Is it morphine shot and opiate at all?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Can the spell be found foul needle</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">in your hands.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Who taught it to you?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Do you know someone taught it to you,</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">And them to?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Have you relearned it,</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">taken out the excess liquid and discoloring,</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">made it less dead.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Or is a laziness disheartening you.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">9. Of that cocooning coffin body</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""> </span>will you show the loss?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">What catastrophe has stolen,</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">the discarded arteries covered in tattering wishes.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Will you reveal the parts that have been hidden out of fear</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">So no pieces will be missing </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">when it is time for us to bury you. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><b style=""><span style="font-style: italic;">
<br /></span></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><b style=""><span style="font-style: italic;">The not so “extra” questions that were almost lost</span><o:p></o:p></b></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">9. Do you believe in fate?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Because you are assured this world </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">is set in something good for you?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Or because you are sitting, waiting </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">for life to happen to you?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">9. Are you religious?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Do you spend more time praying in temples</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""> </span>or building them?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">9. Are you starving, how<i style=""> hungry</i> are you?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">are your intestines coiling like a snake</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Is there ever venom in your action, Lucifer in your want?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Do you think we fell out of heaven</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">or that we were banished?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">What would you do to feel like something God made again?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;">10. Are you one of us,</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""> </span>Are you sure?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""> </span>Are you sure,</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""> </span>You can’t fly?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment--> <span style="font-size:85%;">
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<br /></span></span></span></div>Mukh.Tah.Rah[t]:The Chosenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07348839501368360706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6841168691311004712.post-28899470113246725762010-08-08T23:10:00.000-07:002010-08-08T23:14:00.874-07:00EGBE OMO ISOKUNNATIONAL YORUBA CONVENTION...<br /><br />It is a room full of crowded diaspora<br />with the American anthem playing,<br /><br />silence<br />like no one knows the words<br /><br /><br />It is the Yoruba anthem I first heard when I was EIGHT<br />still making me cry<br /><br />It is his daughter<br />a man who is 60<br /><br />his daughter,<br />13 stubborn and unfriendly<br /><br />adjusting his shirt<br /><br />without saying a word<br /><br />like she is his fatherMukh.Tah.Rah[t]:The Chosenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07348839501368360706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6841168691311004712.post-10934152778594823392010-08-08T22:56:00.000-07:002010-08-08T22:58:03.812-07:00HabeebiEver write a poem for/about someone and realize it doesn't skim?<br />This doesn't skim...<br />Im going to sit down with my muses and live through it and then let it happen to me instead of try to make it happen through me.<br /><br />I love you.<br /><br /><br />For Sadia, who held me in a green field, sang ‘Yellow’ and cried with me<br /><br /><br />I have always wanted to cry as pretty as you do.<br />Shed water and light at the same time<br />Pour and glow transpire a rainbow,<br /><br />Emit<br />Through plains of dark and shaken nowhere<br />Every color stolen from us <br />And hidden in some wrong cavity<br /><br />Do you see sun in me?<br />Are you forgetting about the water?<br />that you are spilling brim and dam split<br />cleansing<br />That your head is pouring somewhere near your eyes<br /><br />Find the narcissus in you,<br />See for once<br />That you are simmering rays and golden<br />See the gold in you<br />Watch what you’ve guarded so dearly<br />Admire all of it<br />Guard but don’t hide it<br /><br />Though I am ether tarnished treasure or blackened foil<br />and you love me<br />Do not let anyone <br />Rot iron<br />or lime you<br /><br />You are a perched sun nights<br />When I do not want moon hole and sinking feet<br /><br />Thank you <br />for blocking out evening <br />and skipping morning<br />for being zenith and high noon<br /><br />Mercy filled baptism<br />You are no fountain,<br /> Not recycled water<br /><br />You are falls and pottery wheel<br />overflowing<br />clay and sand hands<br />pedaling feet<br /><br />Held me yearned creation though I made your work muddy<br /><br />Kiln<br />how are you still not water logged hearth<br /><br />Who made you <br />All heat no burn<br />All liquid no drowning<br /><br />This world <br />Eggshell promises<br />and <br />Unimagined heavens<br /><br />I don’t know how is it I have still found one in you.Mukh.Tah.Rah[t]:The Chosenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07348839501368360706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6841168691311004712.post-10516004855686885652010-08-07T11:46:00.000-07:002010-08-07T12:41:49.978-07:00What God Looks Like to MeTwo days ago I had a conversation with the love of my life Jamaica Osorio ... in my head. I have been asking myself recently about overused words (and structures) in my poetry. All to challenge my language, my craft, my heart. One such overused word is "God" an other religious rhetoric. Reminding myself that words are symbols, I am selling mine so short of what they represent. I want my words to be less symbolic more merging, more transcendent.<br /><br />Nevertheless, this resulted in,in my head, my love challenging me. Asking, as if in response to reading a piece I have written, since i mention "god" so much in my poetry...what is it that god looks like to me.<br />My response was the following...<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />A fiery night turned scorched evening in Brooklyn <br />A homeless person stands over <br />a hallowed turbine canister for heat<br /><br />A man, wall street all three piece suits <br />And shoe sole covered <br />with other peoples dreams <br />walks over freezing<br /><br />The homeless man shifts over<br />Never even looking up<br />They stand over the fire<br />Both shivering<br /><br />Neither of them saying a thing<br /><br />That is what God looks like to meMukh.Tah.Rah[t]:The Chosenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07348839501368360706noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6841168691311004712.post-5670286510425028752010-08-06T23:51:00.000-07:002010-08-07T12:43:09.856-07:0010 Things That Remind Me of A Thunderstorm (freewrite)<span style="font-style:italic;">Got this via my beloved soulmate Anwar Jabari Johnson<br /></span><br /><br />10 things that remind me of a thunderstorm<br /><br />1. <br />Ancestors falling<br />from their avalanche of wander woes<br />gripping to the roof of her mouth for heaven<br />afterlife<br /><br />My mother's voice<br />the lioness she taught me to fear<br />...being.<br /><br />Mane slipped into its aftermath,<br />the depth of her transmutable story<br />causing unknowing listeners to call her <br />"MR" Yussuf<br /> like they know how shes been my father<br /><br />2.<br />Our lips meeting for the 1st time<br />the passion that made everything messy<br />Have you ever clutched a storm in your arms before?<br />Tamed it?<br />Are you sure<br /> Minilik?<br /><br />3.<br />An unnumbered summer<br />2008<br />Where some girls began shedding their skin together,<br />learned to stop being ashamed<br />of how they had shared it together.<br />No one told you you looked this good naked<br /><br />4.<br />A bag of Italian leather shoes and suits<br />that always seemed better buys than <br />formula, or juice, or school fees<br />or marriage counseling.<br />My older sister at 15<br />rolling his belongings down the stairs<br />right after calling the police<br /><br />5.<br />the night when it began to become clear<br />that little girls do not grow into 18 year olds<br />that hate men for no reason.<br />That there had been clouds beneath her eyes breaking<br />not high enough to forget what happened<br />That the fogs and opaque bottles full<br />of blackouts and drowning<br />the nights when alcohol found prescriptions<br />readable, understanding,...friendly<br />Had all <br />never been for no reason<br /><br />6.<br />The day they realize <br />they did not welcome a daughter back properly<br />When a whole country<br />will rise above itself<br />into the frame of what<br />its dislocated daughter <br />has always viewed it to be...<br />My the cheering<br /> <br />7.<br />Dec 2009<br />A doctor saying something<br />about a lung collapsing<br />A prayer in a hospital bed<br />that means nothing<br />In a room she is sharing with a woman who is 90<br />A 19 yo realizing, again, she is dying<br /><br />8.<br />A quiet night in Chicago<br />at the most recent BNV<br />When something is happening <br />that shouldn't be<br />Pathetic attempts to regain agency<br />Have you no idea what type of woman<br />you want to be anymore?<br />Are you looking for her<br /> by finding <br />everything you don't want to be<br /><br />9.<br />"that night" "that summer" <br />I had a vision of my deceased sister walking towards me<br /><br />10.<br />"finishing"<br />the sound of breaking to begin again<br />pretending you've lived alreadyMukh.Tah.Rah[t]:The Chosenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07348839501368360706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6841168691311004712.post-60854259257383767522010-08-03T15:54:00.001-07:002010-08-03T15:54:39.465-07:00"Muslim Jews & Christians war, no one's left to praise the Lord"<br />knaanMukh.Tah.Rah[t]:The Chosenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07348839501368360706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6841168691311004712.post-8930196676303258512010-07-28T13:58:00.000-07:002010-07-28T14:08:24.408-07:00TO do List (freewrite)Bismillah<br />Start everything with God in mind,<br />be open about the horrible if existent<br />nature of your Arabic.<br /><br />Do not be ashamed of how you carry your religion<br />its compass, guiding light you follow when you so choose<br />relinquish the idea of it shinning a single hue<br /><br />Level your head<br />try to wear that rolling scab with pride<br />Remember the times when your hijab<br />made you feel beautiful but never be afraid to expose your wounds<br />bear no fear of exposure physical or otherwise<br /><br />Lose yourself when your write<br />find a forgetfulness for not being good enough<br />You are larger than your fears wont let you be<br /><br />Run away from complacency <br />even when it looks like God standing still,<br />Know that God never stands still unless you are running at a divine speed<br />Check your feet, their harshness, how quickly they are moving<br />Kick the stagnancy when it comes <br />Catch up to yourself<br /><br />Ponder the making of your first love into your last<br />not for admonishing, just for pondering<br />On nights when your chest is cold with wondering if you lived too quickly<br /> warm it with the kinetic heat of a clock moving<br />Time<br />Feel its abundance, flow in it<br />there is so much, too much to exist<br />Forget finite, know it never<br /> Live now<br /><br />Let yourself wonder why this poem is filled with “Don’ts”<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Don’t</span> stop being hard on yourself out of guilt<br />knead yourself against the scabs on your heart<br />rub your chest often, especially when your insides hurt<br />make it prolific<br /><br />Keep writing poems to your broken body<br />there are no doctors, no cure that can heal<br />your inherited illness like these poems<br />The unveiling of sickled cells<br />do not make you less strong <br /><br />Cherish your withering hands for what they are<br />do not regret how dark your palm<br />its lines, the depth of the bark, the tell tale rings<br />Stop trying to hide that you’ve been here before<br /><br />Kiss boys,…Kiss girls<br />Kiss first,<br />and only places screaming of beauty<br />Look for nothing in return<br />Be thankful that you will let none of this make you ugly<br />Forgive yourself for not letting them kiss you<br />For surrenders reserved for the love you won't let go<br />Do not let go if you do not want to<br />Know that its okay if you do decide to <br /><br />Let yourself build a shrine to your tears<br />reread the poems he wrote <br />they are a portal into eternity<br />Be okay with not wanting to leave it at just that<br /><br />Reminisce on when you got the wanting washed out of you<br />how ugly you looked clean<br />Bask in the residue the stains<br />the foreshadow in smiling at being called “filthy”<br />by an Abyssinian son with Seattle tongue<br /><br />Burn hot inside for him whenever you want to<br />Fuck outsiders' feelings procreate with patience<br /><br />Carry the novelty of that love obnoxiously as you want to<br />other claims will only be as threatening as you allow them to<br />Listen to those declarations with open ears and a sure heart<br /><br />Use your heart <br />as a key<br />the places you belong will never <br />accuse you of breaking and entry<br /><br />If and when you decide to kiss girls<br />Do not check boxes<br />But do not not check boxes because you are afraid to<br /><br /><br />Believe in Hasani<br />(the hypothetical human being)<br />love yourself for giving him a name<br />and appreciate that God gave him a face<br />Find a way to settle with the idea that he may have many<br />That “he” may be a “she” or that he<br />may make his way into your mirror one day<br /><br />No one is more worthy of your love than you<br /><br />Make love to your insecurities<br />be open about the dance you two do<br /><br />How you are thinking to yourself <br />you must make this poem pretty,<br />adequate, less longwinded<br />Forgetting that you are a stretched breeze<br />that you encompass everything<br /><br />Focus, and re-read<br />every word before these<br />they prove<br />Here there is much love <br />and many vital things to doMukh.Tah.Rah[t]:The Chosenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07348839501368360706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6841168691311004712.post-56424671917354156762010-07-06T16:55:00.000-07:002010-07-06T16:56:44.477-07:00Egbe Omo Yoruba National ConferenceBaton Rouge<br />August 5-8<br /> SHITTIN on deez hoes....<br /> <br />haha.<br />I'm so excited.Mukh.Tah.Rah[t]:The Chosenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07348839501368360706noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6841168691311004712.post-40707210106604901432010-07-06T16:31:00.000-07:002010-07-06T16:33:17.065-07:00this song is a series of what the fucks<br />shet<br />Taylor put me on.<br />I have bomb lovelings, <br />fuck it.. <br />when you make up a word you should know what you think it means and try to justify it...<br />but fuck it.<br /><br /><br /><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/q3Q8dlusBk4&hl=en_US&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/q3Q8dlusBk4&hl=en_US&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object><br /><br /><br />http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q3Q8dlusBk4Mukh.Tah.Rah[t]:The Chosenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07348839501368360706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6841168691311004712.post-439027049129277122010-07-06T16:30:00.000-07:002010-07-06T16:31:37.369-07:00“Trust in dreams, for in them is hidden the gate to eternity.”<br />- khalil gibran <span style="font-style:italic;">The Prophet</span><br /><br />Finally read it last week.<br />gah.Mukh.Tah.Rah[t]:The Chosenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07348839501368360706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6841168691311004712.post-87319297279218753532010-06-30T12:13:00.000-07:002010-06-30T12:14:44.332-07:00The poem that resulted in my drive from Hartford to Hanover last week.<span style="font-style:italic;">The only emotion easier than anger is sadness, which looks too much like pity to be thrust onto a woman of your strength. For my mother, my fountain of faith, who reminds me to fight for what I believe in the worst way sometimes…by the downpour.</span><br /> <br />Yet another ride<br />down a snoring road<br />crossing New England<br />In the passengers seat<br />a bellowing history book of sins<br />and strict rules bound by strength<br />is beautiful<br /> <br />It is uncommon for you to be this quiet on a ride<br />but you still say all that you would want to<br />the percussion of each breath<br />a matter of fact sound repeatedly punctuated<br />by a schizophrenic back and forth paranoid battle,<br />What is described as “a snorting breath during sleep”<br /> <br />Apparently it is impossible to dream whilst snoring<br />I imagine, dear mother, that you have long been afraid to<br /> that your nightmares look too much like your memories.<br />It is still unclear how a woman who has seen so much battle<br />always manages to come out on top.<br /> <br />Warrior woman you raised an Athena like yourself<br />and most of the honesty between us<br />emerges out of feeling combatively corned.<br />when I feel trapped.<br />which now is left for days like these<br />when there is no escaping a battlefield with wheels<br />and a mother with too many lectures<br />but not enough good questions.<br /> <br />We have not called the same place home in a year<br />Our storage is full of burnt out thunderbolts and crushed armor,<br />our phone conversations the biting taste of iron.<br />I am told too often about my guard (purity), that my clothes are too tight,<br />that my shields are not high enough, that I know too many men I trust,<br />that I don’t know the right time to run away from a fight<br /> <br />We have not learned the same things from war.<br /> <br />Last week you asked me to pray for your friends’ brother<br />A man in Florida who accidently killed his wife,<br />in an infidelity fueled rage,<br />…with a baseball bat.<br />I can say…like I did last week<br />that despite all the love in me<br />I have not learned how to pray for men like that.<br /> <br />Today,<br />I hear you speaking on the phone<br />relaying the story<br />trying to defend a party<br />Using the phrase:<br />oloriburiuku obirin<br />meaning<br />‘horrible woman’<br />Forgetting that violence is only ever justified<br />in the minds of those who commit it.<br />Forgetting the conversations knives and fists<br />have had with your throat and body<br />I wish you did not hold that bat with him today<br />Umi,<br />I wish that you would not let the blood and hair<br />claim your hands and hijab<br /> <br />Somehow you do not see the connection in the faults<br />of this conversation and the one you have with me<br />in which you claim that a woman’s body is so holy<br /> men can only read sin into it.<br />I still do not know how to be trapped into that lack of connections.<br />I have never felt good hiding behind those cloaks<br />I will never look good in the lessons learned from your mistakes<br />In that veiling, and its patriarchal God<br /> <br />He<br />Who only re-disguises himself<br />As everyone else’s God<br />And still finds ways to stand in the mirror cursing<br />And still trying to catch all my holy with the fire from either side<br /> <br />It should be easier to simply choose one of them<br />what with my cover too lacking to make me a ‘good Muslim girl’<br />and juxtaposed modesty too abundant for my sexuality to not be questioned<br />Choosing would surely be easier than this<br />But I will not feed from flawed leftovers<br />Dear mother,<br />I cannot worship at a temple of backwash<br /> <br /> <br />Today<br />I am stuck in the car with you<br />All the things that cannot be said over dinner,<br />or a two day visit<br />being forced back into my throat by my own hands<br /> <br />I wish I could tell you,<br />as I have learned,<br />That the world is not all battles<br />and how to choose the right ones<br /> <br />That you cannot wear your armor all the time<br />that even if you end up being partially exposed<br />you can pray for blooms to sprout from the bruises<br />and be thankful for your thick skin<br /> <br />I wish<br />I could tell you about all the handprints<br />and dented breastplates<br />How I have found away for them to teach me<br />Resilience<br /> <br />But today<br />You are fighting, again,<br />in a world that you think of<br />as the highest level of hell,<br />The world I know<br />as simply the lowest level of heaven<br />we have not called the same place home in at least a year<br />I imagine my words would not translate well as they descend<br />That they may fall<br />on deaf ears<br />and hardened hands<br /> <br />I do in fact know retreat<br />Taking all of me that is<br />what the woman you would like to be hopes to be<br />I will go into hiding (yet again)<br /> <br />The monotonous humming of this road<br />you will not hear me snoring<br />Will never know I’ve gone to sleepMukh.Tah.Rah[t]:The Chosenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07348839501368360706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6841168691311004712.post-7911975615679552502010-06-29T09:10:00.000-07:002010-06-29T09:11:27.742-07:00"We cross our bridges when we come to them and burn them behind us, with nothing to show for our progress except a memory of the smell of smoke, and a presumption that once our eyes watered."<br />Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead, Tom Stoppard<br /><br />via (<a href="http://thewolffofthesea.tumblr.com/post/700568120/we-cross-our-bridges-when-we-come-to-them-and-burn">wolffofthesea</a>)Mukh.Tah.Rah[t]:The Chosenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07348839501368360706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6841168691311004712.post-60112108214993825522010-06-28T20:25:00.001-07:002010-06-28T20:25:41.901-07:00the world actually does not have it figured out.<br />AT ALL!Mukh.Tah.Rah[t]:The Chosenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07348839501368360706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6841168691311004712.post-65127986237816075452010-06-27T23:09:00.000-07:002010-06-27T23:10:34.469-07:00I really just did thatDC <br />New York<br />New Haven<br />Hartford<br />NewYork<br />DC<br /><br /><br />...<br />(four cities) in four daysMukh.Tah.Rah[t]:The Chosenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07348839501368360706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6841168691311004712.post-66717550118648532572010-06-26T16:20:00.002-07:002010-06-26T16:21:13.588-07:00"Have you ever lost yourself in a kiss? I mean pure psychedelic inebriation. Not just lustful petting but transcendental metamorphosis when you became aware that the greatness of this being was breathing into you. Licking the sides and corners of your mouth, like sealing a thousand fleshy envelopes filled with the essence of your passionate being and then opened by the same mouth and delivered back to you, over and over again - the first kiss of the rest of your life. A kiss that confirms that the universe is aligned, that the world's greatest resource is love, and maybe even that God is a woman. With or without a belief in God, all kisses are metaphors decipherable by allocations of time, circumstance, and understanding" <br />— Saul Williams (Said the Shotgun to the Head)<br /><br />(via <a href="http://beatingvoicebox.tumblr.com/post/363565658/have-you-ever-lost-yourself-in-a-kiss-i-mean">James Sprang</a>)Mukh.Tah.Rah[t]:The Chosenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07348839501368360706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6841168691311004712.post-11805094888924240192010-06-26T16:20:00.001-07:002010-06-26T16:20:15.116-07:00"i am like a survivor <br />of the flood <br />walking through the streets <br />drenched with <br />God <br />surprised that all of the <br />drowned victims <br />are still walking and talking" <br />— Saul Williams (Said the Shotgun to the Head)Mukh.Tah.Rah[t]:The Chosenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07348839501368360706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6841168691311004712.post-24378373861173622332010-06-24T08:38:00.000-07:002010-06-24T08:39:30.935-07:00"I cannot tell you the last time I smoked..I got groceries to buy I don't have time to… no, extra munchies?"<br />-the 'fabulous' homie whose convo I've been eavesdropping on my whole way to new york.<br /><br /><br />me and him need to be friends<br /><3Mukh.Tah.Rah[t]:The Chosenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07348839501368360706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6841168691311004712.post-39618035234423219512010-06-23T07:12:00.001-07:002010-06-23T07:12:59.449-07:00yas =]<object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/_Py_Kgc935c&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/_Py_Kgc935c&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object>Mukh.Tah.Rah[t]:The Chosenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07348839501368360706noreply@blogger.com0