Tuesday, December 25, 2007

Pages of home 2

I reside in the moon's sunlight, the cold warmth of this country's enigma tickling my cracked harsh nivea scented skin. Playback of african stories rewind in the tape of my nationality as I transform black beauty nights into museums of thoughts. Peaceful to be here, my heart is a chaotic rythm with the balance of this interrupted yellow taxi traffic. I "feel" at home; my response touched by sensations magnified - incorporated as one into my destiny. Becoming as one in an open world of ghostly dreams, my soul awakens to the haunted nature of a defeated nation. The smells of dinner starve through the night, complicated doors lock down with a fight, hiding under rubbles of the day waiting for a new light. Metals of corruption rattle through injuries of desert space, blood sheds invisibly for an accident of freedom, and I listen to the magically conjured sudan staring in a mirror at a broken kingdom.

Friday, December 14, 2007


Take back time and rubble this unleashed hurt
Change my burning mistakes into ashes of dirt
That can be swept into memories and washed away by time
Forget this nuisance of betrayal in my mind
Moments of unreasoned clock ticking
And it burst in my face to show me an hour I have never seen of taunting seconds
With coldness, blindness and extreme supreme – of failure
It ran through my veins like it was a part of me
And I couldn’t dilute it down or antidote its maximum intensity
It kept growing to blind me
Until failure glowed from my eyes and I looked like the masterpiece of its title
I looked unwise covered with a domain of complete immaturity
Crying with tender foolishness, I couldn’t roll back the tears and hide them
They disturbed the normality of my motion and created disaster of creations
They were the probability in the equation of my broken session
I was a helpless monster checked upon by the guards of wiseness to tie down this dirty beast
Unsterilized equipment was the symphony of my irresponsible breath
Too low a filling of peace, over filled horrors of crime
The street lamp faded and the murders of success rolled onto the screen
Tip toed all over – the panoramic high definition LCD monitor of my shambled chance
I tore the chance into ripped P.oorness
I could get nothing more should be getting less
But my eyes deceived me and I considered to lie -
But I was too weak to try
I was too stolen to be found
I was too shocked to steady my ground
I was too rubbish to be perfumised into success
I was too war to be made into peace
I was too mixed up to be shown clearly
And now I’ve lost pieces of me that I’m going to miss deeply

Sunday, December 9, 2007

Far away soldier

Your brown eyes conquer the desert of my night
Tempting me to fall at the dusk of your heartbeat
Where soft whispers of your kindness breathe through the land
In the twilight of deviations, I run my life in your palm like wind in the sand
Lost amongst layers of your soul
What colors lie in the highway of your dreams
Mysterious pearl in the oceans cavity of my world
Shining in the blackness, closing the emptiness I was once sold
Your far away distance, glistens in the shade
I’ll never forget you, you never fade
The streets melt underneath your courage
Traveling the darkness unafraid of your sorrow
Enchanted by your tribal mystery,
I am devoured within the spell of becoming your destiny
The darkness of the tropical night asks you my fate,
Under the monsoon droplets of falling romance, you must save me before it’s too late

Raining to the shadows of the morning,
Puddles of temptation soak from your heart to drain me
In the captivation of a whirlpool lust, I break to the gale of your breath that bares me
The circumference of the black passion storm -
You enclose me in my natural territory of the corners of your mind
The earth shatters gold as your footsteps delve into the solitude of my kind

We become an army
Of a silk fantasy
Your fingertips caress the stories of my tears
Your armor captures and imprisons my fears
The cracks on my skin faint and whisper
The pain from my sole/soul forgets to linger
Cultivating the freedom you plant in me
My king, you have offered me nourishment, to the highest degree -
I absorb your power and I am magnified with a raw disturbance
Empowering me with enough existence I can feed this fragile dry ground
I cease being discovered as I have been found

Far away soldier your body becomes nearer than my dreams
Your light fastens down the wolves of my screams
Surviving on your harmony my heart beats to the rhythm of being your wife
You will be master of my indulgence every second of my life
I melt in your arms as we lie over the equator
My color runs into your touch
You kiss my emotion blazing in a rush
I love you so much…..

Faith Crisis_(In the process of falling)

The treadmill of goodbye runs me through a lost energy
Syncopated breaths of truth fall within an unfit destiny
But I need to change all weak memory
And become someone I dreamed to be with a cause
Driving myself in the tiredness of the break
I must go on; I must continue a challenge of individuality
In a street of blankness and forgotten sake
Re occupy the battle of not feeling fake
Hospitable problems awaken my fears
Sweating painful jogs of tears
The cycle of swimming trepidations
Only drown me in a pool of determination
To pull my chin to the sky
And not say goodbye to the DSD Dreams, Strength, Determination

The devil tries to stir me away from peace, organization and a fulfilled beauty shining from my soul. Always now it is darkness, blackness and fear. I am not anywhere near asking to go to heaven, yet time flies and lies and before u know it its too late. It’s a dangerous temptation to pretend I am good, white heart, green pastures on my side of actions. Looking without the rose speckled glasses there is famine in my smile, deeds of greed, shortage of strength.

I want to write about how god has saved me from so much, given me aid and helped me break through shells and shells of disaster. I want to write about the invisible closeness, the clear kindness he has reassured me with. Yet now I am bored from asking, bored with trying to show him I care.

All I do is tell him to scribble my name out from his love.

It's time to go back to the day I changed, that day is crucial - like an exam I must attend – I must go back to that day when I used to be in love with my faith and not just getting by.

(To be continued.)

Thursday, December 6, 2007

Echoes in my mind_(what difference does it make?)

What difference does it make?
This generation has the fate of separation
The seas transform into years and equations unsolvable
Between the imaginations of our hearts and our souls impenetrable
The brightness of the future hides in despair
Machines of love broken beyond repair
Old to the fashion of passion
My trend is a foreign uniform
My eyes are encores to madness
My dreams are the realms of exposed conjugations between right and wrong, ability, eternity, beauty, I dream in my dreams of finding keys to stainless steel doors locked with broken images.
What difference does it make?
I study you in the chapter of my world
But fail in the exam of reaching out to your marking scheme of things
Religion V Modernity V Beauty V Country V Identity V Being alone in the cold romantic weather of Africa.

Stop thinkin about u

I’m so sick of writing sad words
Writing about broken down love
A love that can never happen, must be said to not exist
It’s trapping me like I’m being suffocated
I’m tired of describing something that can never be translated
I should have a life where u don’t come in it, u don’t fit
You’re a wrong jigsaw puzzle, a mistaken key
You should not be
I’m lonely from my imagination of having you near
I’m reading myself in a future of creative disaster
And even though I don’t want to write about you
You clog up my fantasies, inspirations and lines
Like hypnotizing my sentences
I want to write about so much more
I want to think about so much more
Like economies and infrastructure
Tragedies and culture
Break down stereotypical sculptures
Take miraculous adventures in predisposed settings
I want to take my destiny to another level – where there’s no netting in front of my eyes
I want to fight condescending lies, write about my tries
Waste time stamping out the darkness before it prevails
Yeah I want to be a hero
Flying or healing, it’s like writing about meaning
I want to waste time helping and teaching
Teaching me – to stop wasting tears over you
I want to write about hopes and dreams
Of the poor and the lost
In fatal accidents of being invaded by war and flooded with irreplaceable fears
I want to put my country into letters
Fix up solutions to make it better
All the wrongs and the invasion of betrayal
Damaged portrayal of life
I want to write about the Nile, its musical flow rhythmical through the land
Papers of tomorrow in the sand, I don’t want them to be washed away
The shadows of tomorrow must stay
I want to write about my faith in malaise
Stepping in an agitated phase
Gods love in delay to the meeting with my revolutionary madness
I hate how I react to the peaceful unity in my soul
I ask to fall in prescribed algorithms of screams
I fall in the delusions of haunted cold dreams, wrapped in a beauty of unawareness and blinding spells of true love – the cover of poison but encrypted romance from the stars.
And I want to write about how I need to be picked up
From hell in my cells
Lost in the tranquility of my anxiety
I want to shake off my distances and repair my close torn analogies
Of heaven and earth, of the truth and the lies, of love and you, of me and you
Patent smears of impossibilities
What does it all mean?
I want to discover my past so I can envisage the future
Close up all wounds and open sutures
I want to find my space and lace together forgotten questions
Write heavy answers and be a witness to myself and my identity
Stay up late in the movie of my dreams to find the end

I want to write about anything except you
Except the way you make me feel, how I see you
How I think about you all the time
It’s a delicious disease of thought
I’m ahead of wanting you
More like desiring the temptation to not resist you understanding me under a fulfilled moon.
But most of all I want to write about not losing confidence,
In laws, in goodness, in me
I want to write about the remedies that heal loneliness
The colored lights that stop darkness shining through
It’s all in me, all on me - the lacking miracles
The weak strength
I want to write strength coming back
In generations, in lovers, in seasons of friends and episodes of populations
The strength in me,
The courage in my heart

Wednesday, December 5, 2007

Letters of his name

Khalid Ibn Al Waleed- one of the most couragous soldiers of islam -
K- The kavass of your god, he knew he needed you,
So he en-linked you to him strongly, making you such an important fragment of his message admiringly.

H- I hallowed you more and more everyday,
Exalted you because of everything that you did.
Soon, I couldn’t keep it enshrouded within me any longer,
Wanted to tell everyone how I valorised you.

A- How I wanted your work to be put abask,
but maybe too ensphered in my love for you,
I never once came to the realisation that people could abhor you.

L- They put your history in Labefaction, but
I tried my best to exculpate you from what they were saying.

I- How could they say you were ignoble?
When you were privileged enough to be called ‘Seef allahi almaslool’.

D- I Imagined how in daylight the sun dancing in your eyes,
You rode your horse galloping with a deafening sound of courage,
Fighting against those trying to damnify your religion.

I- How amongst your friends and family you must have walked illustrious,
But your strength you never used to abject them,
Your gift of power only preserved to aggrandise what you believed in,
The one god you knelt to everyday.

B- ‘Bismallah’ came out of your lips before everything you betook ,
And how especially before battle those two words gave you acuity,
Shielded you, you could never get embrangled.

N- No-one thought you were nefarious.
All they had in mind was that they needed you,
You became their necessity.
Nervousness would enter them if they felt you weren’t around them.

A-You were amiable and amicable to all,
Allocating for them the time and effort so you could help them,
And doing your best to alleviate them.

L-With your purity and astounding deeds you were luminiferous.

W- Only war-like in war,
You plunged onto the scene, grasping your weapon ,
enclasping that sword, its metal unidentifiable from you .

A- But leaving the Alecdama , you changed into a warm ,inviting man,
Benevolence abounding from your full heart.

L- Light of angels as you slept shone brightly on you,
But with vigilance so as not to wake you .

E- Your equanimity made your character glow,
Something you would find rarely .

E- Why would anyone want to embitter you ? Turn people’s views on you acescent?

D- I don’t know Dear Khalid,
the dignified ,devoted man.
I doubt I will ever one day feel the presence of someone who has a similarity in the smallest thing that embellished you but all I can do is dream and pray.

Saturday, December 1, 2007

Echoes in my mind - (no axis)

Broken story, pages of tragedy, the chapter ends correctly with tears sung in a melody

Pain is cherished, love perished in the darkness and blackness of her hole of lies, hole of fears spinning into another realm of confusion and new type of hurt. Agonizing pricking truth sends the blood of the night into swirls of a mistaken epiphany; she turns her back to the shattered scene and thinks of the sweetness that evanesced into the chilling air. Her chest expands with the heartbreak - getting harder to keep the magnified loneliness quiet. She stumbles into her frozen reality realizing there is nothing more left to realize. Stripped down to a fake existence, she walks into the pathway of no return. There is no going back and she is lost in the pit of a merciless eternity. Here, she is a speckle of madness as the earth continues to revolve around its own axis sure of its control, but she has no axis; her head spins out of control, lost craze to dreaming, her internal blurring leaves her idly blind. The walkway is too small for her runaway -getaway from her crumbling today; she falls onto the foreign streets of her thoughts, falls on her bamboozled mind and cuts her heart, its veins bleed blue from deoxygenated happiness and she breathes shallow memories to keep her alive.

What it is...

I see Life like a rose in the ice... beautiful but with cold settings - There are so many incredible things out there - but we always need to fight and perservere against the hardships too... otherwise the cold will win ... and we will wither away.

My imagination has led me to believe in something called 'Sudan Fairytale' -
The fantasy that My country will one day be independant and proud, never selfsish to provide its people with its needs, give freedom and success to all, be forever committed to achieve a prosperous inhabitance to every Sudanese in their own country-

My eyes fail me and I see the truth which I call - 'Khartoum Heartbreak' - This is a theme running through the blog under the 'Khartoum Heartbreak' Poems and whatever else about Sudan conveying broken down love, poor streets and cut off electricity along with a lot of other decays and problems in Khartoum city Life.

But I love my country and so I have no choice but to merge the Pain and the Love as one.

Faith is my heart and I could never do without it hoping in my prayers that I can be someone better always and that God forgives me as I fall in Mistakes through that frozen path of Life...

Sometimes I feel under control with all the too many emotions that run to colour my days and nights - Books, movies, music, dreams, friends, family, strangers, travel, - reality - the 10 O' Clock news -Most of the time I'm very Lost in trying to understand - whatever happens becomes tangled into writing this confusing memoir -

It's a really odd combination of air - not sure whether it is refreshing or suffocating - stabilising or maddening - But I breathe and
so it is
'Memoirs of a Sudanese breath' as I am 'Lost but under control' -