July 01, 2009
The consistancy of blood. (blood is essential)
There's a certain melancholy to my people. Their eyes looking far , simmered in a quiet tension. I miss my people, it has been a long time since.............. I miss the stillness of my days there, the scent of the dust . Like a black and white surreal movie which brings the detail out to its grainiest point. You could almost touch the air, it is heavy and dense. Life is so real there you could feel it heavy on you. Life is so layered in such distinguished measures. Life stand center stage, lit and brazen with unkempt hair, and an unshaven face, Brown black sunken eyes. and yet you yearn to touch him.
Life walked up town the other day, his eyes jaded, his jaw locked, it held stones in his hands. Life hummed a quiet tone as it marched, and as his pace got faster his voice raised, he objected to all it could and I could see the crowed that gathered and followed him. I could see my sisters walking erect behind him, chanting his song and as the bullets came, they held him around his wrists and carried him, walking uptown.
There is a certain quality to Blood. It is red and it flows. Once there is a gash in the skin, a knife or a bullet hole. Blood flows out. There is a consistent quality to blood. It carries life in measured genetic vessels and once out it loses the life it has carried within, however it tends to nourish much higher life that has collaborated in many epics of human uprisings against uneven odds for survival of ideas that have been the cornerstone of Human dignity and morality. Blood is essential.
Blood in its organic hues of reds, oxidized by air would scab around or on the surface it occupies and the image of a beautiful girl with blood oozing out of her mouth and ear can be horrifying.
The image of dried blood -- a certain deep red almost black on the face of a girl as it covers one eye and leaves the other lifeless eye open to the indifference of death and its finality could horrify a nation, a continent,and may the whole world as they watch, knowing that Blood is essential .
How do we measure a life. in years, in the extent of happiness that life experiences, in the extent of happiness that life has brought to the others. How has this particular life effected the rotations of the Earth , the Moon and the sun.
Does anybody remember her name. Is her name familiar now to the strangers. Would her picture make you to take a pause and think a bit outside your habitual accidental living. Is the image of her splayed on the black asphalt as blood pours out of her mouth and ears and eyes, covering one eye as the other stands still in horror of a life cut down. Does that image stays in the conscious mind of God.
I look at the map of my country and for the first time in a very long time, I feel a heart beating within its soil. I see greens braving the asphalt and steel and growing up toward the sun. I see truth written on placard and signs and spelled in marches and mantras. I see the sons of the fathers who gave this land to the most shameless elements of Evil. I see the sons and the daughters of the fathers who submitted to the lazy dreams of religions and accepted that Islam means Submission( no matter how misguided that is). Those sons and daughters have stood up for their basic right of freedom.
Posted by Idinraha at 03:45 PM | Comments (0)
June 13, 2009
Meloncholy
How would we start this
for the longest time I wondered
I wanted it to be subtle like a hurricane
I wanted to leave me in ruins with the taste
of ash in my mouth
I wanted rain showers for days
storms hurling winds, howling in the heights
mayhem, cyclones, so I could come to you
and take your breath away offering silence
I wanted pain so deep I could not inhale
an agony that comes for dinner and stays
lurking in the guest room or maybe on the couch
I wanted it present, unforgiving and clear
I wanted you to fall through me
spreading like black fever
corrupting me layers deep
so I could lay rosy cheeks with you inside me
I would have waited for you
like death or a beginning where
we could start all over again behind
closed steamed windows in meloncholy
Posted by Idinraha at 02:38 PM | Comments (0)
June 11, 2009
a ceremonial fuck
I dont think I stopped loving you
I just can't remember how I loved you
staring out the window
I go for long walks
I was unwritten
unseen, untouched , scattered
you carried your words in
colorful boxes painted in yellows, reds
I was for the taking, bare
my life heaving beneth my skin
sutured up by holly Mary though
I could feel your breath
you took your time
poised, quiet, deliberately still
your silence so erotic as I saw you
tonging your lips in a hiss
I thought you would drink my skin
I thought you would take me, leaving
your finger prints around my nipples
as you hum sweet in my ears
you took me in a ceremonial fuck
and I learned how to love your penis
your extension in me, the way you expressed
yourself, the way you made a map of my body
your casual mistress, your absent wife
I became, swallowed whole in little morsels
poised, quiet, deliberately still inside me
as I spread my legs holding you in
Posted by Idinraha at 12:24 PM | Comments (0)
May 12, 2009
cracked
It was a sound so faint,
she heard within her head,
like a hair line
fracture on a soft bone,
as the pain reached her
she could not locate it,
to sooth it , rubbing her fingers
against the skin where it covered the bone
It took her a while
before she could pin down
where the sound came, where
the hurt was and the pain
on the right lower corner,
where she looked out, within
the spread she saw, there was
a crack in the scene spreading out
Posted by Idinraha at 03:28 PM | Comments (0)
May 10, 2009
Summer nap
The hours linger
afternoons are long
and shadows hide
in corners humid with anticipation .
I know I have stayed long
too long. My skin is bare
my hair unkempt coming off of a
barefoot summer,
the oceans blue
at depth far from here it
extends closer to the shore floating
within the streams that run to the ends of the earth.
In my dream
I fall motionless
with my arms open
to my sides,
not in a way
to catch my fall but to diminish
the velocity of my descent and maybe
to linger lazy, a bit longer
submitting to my fall
looking down I can see the blue planet
and somehow it seems I could extend my hands
and reach it
The afternoon leaves me
the air moves away from the shore
I open my eyes and all I can think is that
This is my life I am living
Posted by Idinraha at 01:31 PM | Comments (0)
April 25, 2009
Soul rings the bell
I am of air, of breezes, winds,
I who am of soil, dust and matter
seared by flames and fire,
locked together, cell to cell
hollow I am a vessel
till soul rings the bell.
Posted by Idinraha at 05:23 PM | Comments (0)
April 22, 2009
Exit
Allowance of such temperament
evolving of sort, acceptance
eyes down, head bent
while the fingers hold the forehead
The circle comes to full
and then there is a tendency
to bear and submit; the right foot first
then the left as the eye ponder the distance
leaving the comfort
of expected
and the thrill of familiar, no matter how lucid
there should be a satisfaction
Maybe a promise
or reach of a resolution
a wish not bounded by guilt
a birth of a sort or death
for after all there is a beginning
and an end equally foreseen
some would say even
an entrance worthy of the exit
Posted by Idinraha at 01:31 PM | Comments (0)
A doll with a missing eye
The girl at the doorway
looks up, while holding
a doll with an eye missing
in her hand dangling on her side
She looks down
as the light glare
she robs her eye
with her free hand
turning her head to the side
She has been waiting
and every time the bell rings
she runs to the door smiling
carrying her doll with one missing eye
she sees the boys run
as she blocks the sun
with her free hand
"crazy boys"
She mumbles to herself
as she closes the door
now holding the doll with
a missing eye closer in her arm
Posted by Idinraha at 01:21 PM | Comments (0)
February 23, 2009
This within me
what is this within me,
afternoons are empty like a painting
that is hung quietly with traces of the paint brush
drying in a daily ritual on a wall with no identity
There is no names on the right hand corner
and yet this within me
left in quiet corners where you stood
rubbing the oil on your fingers
your prints on a white washed wall
I wish you would know
how this within me has bled
the dry paint has run the edges of the frame
the wall is soiled and swelled with
scabs like a wound that breathes
Posted by Idinraha at 03:46 PM | Comments (0)
As long as you adore me
It does not matter, sun is eternal
eastward or west, -it stands adored
there is a necessity to proceed ,
the words go on, the pages will fold
lovers leave, tears are shed
my bones are soft now, I can crawl
rubbing my belly against the ground, I can hiss
hunting ambievilant hoppers with their button eyes
instincts remedy the mortal sin, and blood sours
I always forget the horror, the feeding frenzy
I am civil when you adore me.
I paint my nails in the afternoon.
and hang cherry stem around my ears
I play when I can, jumping in the squares
I sing the riddles and gigle like happy girls
As long as you adore me I be eternal like sun
Posted by Idinraha at 03:08 PM | Comments (1)