Saturday, 9 February 2019

This is not a poem

Meditation // Manifestation

There's a sadness that always lurks over me, around me. It hovers like a storm cloud. like the rain wanting to pour, instead rests heavy on my shoulders. Sometimes I think I broke my own heart.
It's hard to reconcile with. I don't know how to silence the thunder in my chest, how to sip deeper breaths
I wish for open spaces, to understand forgiveness
reconciling transgressions as lessons.
I plead with god(s) and humans alike to be good to me; ripped the shirt off my back just so someone would stay the night with me. I can't remember when I began to make myself small.
I find I need to be reminded that there is soft and there is raw, there is honesty and there is brutality.
How do you learn about love?
I never felt Home about a place. I've dreamt of freedom and safety but woke to thunder without a storm
screaming in my chest.
I'm afraid
The ground beneath me has always shook; I've been told that no one saves those who fall between the cracks, no one feels sorry for the little black girl who couldn't keep up. -despite the fact that she's been tethered or neglected.
I swear I am more beautiful than this
It's just;
I don't know how but I broke my own heart. I don't know how to sew much less stitch a bleeding heart.
perhaps this is why I'm uncertain about love.

I know what anger looks like
and I'm a damn good runner.


Thursday, 26 April 2018

Glasshouses // ~

You and I are odd bodies
once molten
once, twice, several times scorched
once golden.
of softness, of grit
whisked by wind,
I am weary
several times scorched,
once molten
I, ebbed or fled without certainty
without consistency
to sink or to desiccate
Instead I became glass
I am weary of you
consequences of transparency
apparently vulnerability weighs as culpability
I don’t wanna know its reflection
you and I are odd bodies
we came from erosion
momentum of perfusion
swallowing illusion
to save ourselves
the desperation of destitution
so when we learnt how to stand
we stood as shards of glass
waging wars for and against vulnerability
you and I are odd bodies
a light beaming through the looking glass
or are the looking glass
finite and fleeting,
culminating, searching, reaching to be everything;
you and I are odd bodies
death of a sun,
shards of glass in desert nights.
I'm terrified of you as I am of myself
I don't know if you were fire
or if fire made you
you boiled the ocean
I sunk the forest
we trapped heat deep underground
I'm terrified of you as I am of myself
In my eyes
you'd see through me
to find a world that once was
or never could be.
I'm not cruel
I am
a product of my environment
just like you.
you and I are odd bodies
Self destructive, reengineered
seared then sealed into glasshouses
stained bodies
telling tales of a god who once lived
who fell to Achilles' heel
buried 6 feet under with his next of kin
what if we're telling the story of us
a thousand times over
bodies wearing thin
you and I are odd bodies
as delicate as glass
a fate of fatality
as fragile as uncertainty.


Sunday, 25 March 2018

The Anti Hero II

I cut river mouths where sleeves lost their seems
and I'm mad I couldn't find God.
the out pour
was my endless catastrophe 
honestly I was looking for a hero
or at the very least a villain. 
maybe then I wouldn't hurt so much
maybe then I'd know where to cut
I'm mad I folded up my legs, arms, and chest
regardless my heart broke
not enough room for my lungs to fill
not enough essence unveiled
I've yet to understand love
I made myself small
I don't know God's eyes
I've only ever seen through mine
irises collapsing 
Osiris draining vessels
Orion drew my crooked spine  
what's left but dead weight
for black holes
see I made myself small 
thinking I had spared God's children
become insignificant or invisible
or a speck of dust
my heart broke right before it exploded 
I cut river mouths where sleeves lost their seems
But I can't let shit go
dead weight for black holes
God bent space to create time
time is endless
light is finite; God's first mind fuck
age is value over time expedited by light
the sun ages hot and ruthless
the sun is an antihero
existing only for expression
the artist bares the sun's same fate
and inevitable catastrophe 
We are not of God's image
that was Narcissus' lie
God is of the sun
with no intention of saving us
no intention of honesty
honestly we created God to save ourselves 
you and I are anti heroes. 


Friday, 2 March 2018

The Anti Hero part 1

The first traces of God presented within my mother.
she spoke of origin;
I born of her flesh
my name of my father's vision.
My mother lacks sleep
every Sunday 
she raced dawn to meet God
she fell
To her knees, to her lips
Mercy, without restitution
habitual, ritual 
falling to her knees, 
lips to floor
whispering, purging.
amongst the masses, 
folds herself back up
awaiting next Sunday.
God never gave her piece of mind
God gave her acceptence
reverence for bitterness
God is an anti hero;
creating without purpose
reacting to disarry
met her steel bones in collision
spine collapsing
she knows too well of back pain
carrying two lives in her belly
God preached from her throat
of submissive independence 
etched in her heart; 
unyielding conflict and acceptance. 
God is an anti hero
creating without purpose,
or resolution.  

Sunday, 18 February 2018

The most naked I've ever been

~ The most naked I've ever been
Is when I cut river mouths where sleeves lost their seams.
The most naked I've ever been was whilst unwinding barbwire
upon soft skin
in need;
perhaps then I would learn sustenance.
the longest day falls upon anticipation
the shortest night occurred pouring
from sky, my eyes, broken skin
absolution is the shortest night.
The most naked I've ever been
light beamed off every surface every corner
exposure deemed the moment imminent.
thunder from my chest audible.
touch was terrifying
The most naked I've ever been felt like forever
my belly was heavy
breath was shallow

Because at the most naked I've ever been;
I couldn't tell myself I was beautiful
This is how I hurt myself. ~

Friday, 9 February 2018


     Distance as stretched as conceivable by space
     Drawn as close to the sun before perish.
     Confrontation vs. the guard;
     Caution and curious work like oil and water.
     Both are essential

     Conflict for me, at its peak, came from within
     lactic acid turned muscle to stone,
     joints locked;
     I'd gone too far
     unable to recalibrate;
     Chaos drowned my mind,
     eye lids ajar
     only contact:
     warmth of the sun
     independence and desperation
     isolation is both calm and calamity
     Both formulate essence.

The first sign of conflict was heartburn
rage in my belly
body fuming
Only for energy to oxidise,
only for my creations to rust.
In conflict my body responded in resistance
I stopped breathing; an act of will
the storm had just cleared
the sky looked like heartburn
air was still
eyes filled with salt water and despair
breathing had escaped me
I lost control
unbeknownst, unsatisfied, unfulfilled.
My existence had overwhelmed me
salt water poured
from eyes to cheek, to chest.

The ocean is unapologetically reckless
only answering to the moon as she beckons,
responding with warmth to the sun
as if to be inviting.
Contact that is wonderfully simple
without heartbreak.
when waves break
It's to bring what's to arrive ashore
the rest is still cleansing
the only conflict the ocean knows is resistance;
the only thing caught in a rip is resistance
The ocean would rid me of conflict
so long as I unclenched my fists
rid me of conflict:
cleansed to the bone
until bringing me back ashore.
If I anchor my ankles
erosion more powerful than conflict,
rids more

When I entered the ocean it was to become free ~

// Nestanet is a common female name in Amharic, it also means freedom //


Tuesday, 30 January 2018

Temberkeke (September Flowers)

Recently I've dabbled with using words from my native language in my poetry. I'm Ethiopian though my first language is English. In September Flowers amongst the many themes and symbols I explored for the first time I thought of dissecting my cultural background. Language is a good place to start the way words are used and even the way they sound. Amharic is a beautiful, rich language; the way it echoes in the mouth, syllables tremble from tongue to lips, ring in perfect pitch. One day I will write poetry in Amharic but for now I'm taking baby steps and trickling words with the language that comes naturally to me (diaspora blues.)
In Ethiopia we have many tribes thus 80+ languages spoken in the country. I come from two different tribes Tigray and Amhara, though I only speak my father's language (from the Amhara tribe) Amharic. In this poem the word 'temberkeke' is repeated which is the female conjugation telling her to kneel. ~


Work hard now
Then, you can reap what you sow
What you sow is not all about you
She’s animated
Strong in her speech
doesn’t hold back so
I developed thick skin
my mother prepared me for life by intimidating me of it
In becoming a woman
she taught me
I am responsible for anything that happens to me
Show humility
Know when you are wrong.
Don’t make the same mistake twice
Always be worthy
I fought regularly with my father
And when his ego grew too big
He became
Too angry to feel what I was feeling
My mother was his wife
So She had to teach me a lesson;
She listened so well and intently
Understandingly, afterwards
She told me to step back
Because he couldn’t handle the truth
Beg him for forgiveness
Show him you are worthy
That was the first time I remember feeling broken
Cover your chest
It’s cold out there
Cross your legs
Don’t wear black
Tie your hair back
Only use eyeliner after 21
Sometimes I wonder
All the things she’s seen
And hasn’t told me
I wonder
if she’s convinced herself of piece of mind
As a humble housewife
I couldn’t tell if she was complicated or conflicted
When consumed in her bitterness
She showed fire
told me I was to be different
I was named after the horizon
She said to
Manifest ideas and
Fly up against the sun
then in the feat for ultimate power
She took me to church,
Kiss these sacred walls, the floors
Go on your knees
beg for forgiveness
Beg him to give you a good life.
I couldn’t understand
How power could be surrendered like that
I left home with one suitcase and the burden of expectation
Knowing what it took to get me overseas;
Were all the things my mother never had
I think,
She’s afraid I may never come back.
She tells me I defy too much
I question, only because i’ve seen so much
I’m conflicted
We have such big barriers that
My redemption is foreign to her
The opportunity to live out my dreams
Is a privilege
Always be worthy
Don’t make the same mistake twice
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