Tuesday, March 22, 2011

the architect of my world_ Repairing the broken

I shrivel without your water supply

zamzam tastes of pure heaven

I Imagine the particles entering my shrivelled body

repairing the magnitude of destruction

of my own affliction

the lackof communication between cells


I miss your faithful light

that instant second when i laid eyes on you

and i could'nt fight

to remember or to feel anything

but being there.

I miss your calmness you are so still

everyone ischasingfor your light

they all fight for you to see

for you to see

me


I walked and walked

thinking about her walk

and her run

my life was no longer made for fun

I had a reason

for living

for being

for you to see

me


I want to be a part of you

and your dream

I want to be simple

and happy

idon'twnat to think of anything but you

every single part of me

misses you

every single part of me

needs you

I love you...

God


ihave been broken

from the inside out

I have been torn

ripped apart in shreds

I have been shattered

mislead and cracked

I have been shelled

by lies and I felt

betrayed

but the real reason

i have been broken

Is because I miss you




i have forgotten your place

the only place I can trace

myself

I have forgotten your rythym

I have forgotten your heart

the only place I can start

to repair the broken



Sunday, March 20, 2011

untitled 3am night talk of a white cotton dress

He... is my handsome soldier
I keep forgetting him and replacing him
with offers from invisible others


He.. is my handsome soldier
the one that defies enemies , the one that defies pain
the one that takes my pain away

He is my handsome soldier
the one that is strong and faithful
knows how to touch me knows how to feed me
with life

He is my handsome soldier
the one that stands by my side
he stands by my side always and forever

He is my handsome soldier
fighting for what's right

its 3 am in the middle of khartoum affairs, the city is calm yet you can hear the soft blunder of wizzing air conditions and breaking trees across the african wind - you can taste the deserts oceans and the starvation of colour - the night is peaceful yet traumatic with heat - it's ..... 3 am where a balcony affair intervened through my heart I can see his eyes through the window and feel his touch across my hair - my curls falling to his grace and hypnotised by his courage - he makes africa he creates time - he is in my time my street of passion - the sound of the dark awakes my intensity to be free_ feel free - i forge identity of strength but really I am so very weak in front of him
he lifts his arms and I enter into a world of such drastic emotion I could go blind _ with tantalising success
the leaves outside bliss and the cars sleep yet the damage is crucial
I whist in his madness and fall to his temptation
I crave for his ego and melt in his eyes
he is my body my anger my hope my affair
and I know him
without words
with every feeling

I can write about him because he makes me feel clean
he creates the world i imagine
he writes the letters I should use
he breaks the pain in my heart
and wipes it away
he shatters my tears
he fights my battles
he never fails


he is my handsome soldier the one I have been born to live for
the one I have replaced the one that is wondering where I am
the one that i have left behind in that heated african beauty of darkness
where it was 3 am and the world was going to lustful anticipation
I was there he was there
sweet white linen and velvet silk honey and milked tea falling whispers of magnitude that carress a love so strong i believe
I believe when i close my eyes....it is there
but I have not been engaged to deploy my army of faith
I feel broken to find him
for he fights so beautifully and he is so much stronger than me in his beliefs
i cannot engage to have him..................


the curtains queitly move_ their paige cotton talking with the wind -
here are two lovers they share that are so perfect for each other
they are ....one
they are..... handsome
they are....... not yet here

Friday, March 18, 2011

Almadina_ City of Light, I fight ...to remember 2


as i left at breaking sunrise_ the new day of a new fast in the last days of Ramadan
I saw this girl
this woman
everyone was sitting near the front pushing to get nearer
every woman was trying to find a better space
ones getting chairs, ones getting qurans
ones filling every space
yet this girl
she found the last pillar in the last part of the mosque just near the door
and she was kneeling down wearing her black veil
sacred
and she had her hands up so gently
was was invisible really
she was silent
only her lips were moving
everything else in her was frozen in that portrait in time i will never forget
she didnt worry about space about time
about voices
about heat
about position
affirmation that she was there
on her face
there was no worry
there was just lips moving
I tried to imagine what she could be asking for
like every other girl?
or maybe a special problem
which is still like every other girl
she made me feel Islam was so special and unique to her in a way I could never imagine
she made me feel she was flying so high
she made me nearly see how in love she was with her faith
she made me feel instantly that God sees everyone That God
loves mercy and purity and innocence and faith and that every indication alove in my being knew she was being heard and answered
she made me feel happy being there
with her in almadina
she made me feel ablend with my new soul the one I had spent the last few days remaking and weaving to become mine again
to become clean again
she made me feel i knew what my soul now looked like
she was a girl that I will never know who she was
I dont know her
i dont even really remember the details of her face
but its like shes encrypted on my heart
its like the way she was praying and her humble attitude is my model
I want to look the way she felt
I want to feel the way she looked
I want to be in a position where i am completely and utterly out of this world and simply in another
i want to be on the edge of that path of light even if I am not in the city of light and have so much strength and purity within me the light reaches to the city of light and above
for the relationship between me and god is pure
is alive
is true
is ever so clean
is full of trust
is unbreakable
is...... unbreakable
but that is not the way my relationship with god is............is it?

Almadina_City of Light, I fight..to remember



I once asked to know you better Prophet Mohammed
and God answered by taking me to visit you
Parts of me did not understand that I was in the city of light
parts of me were tired
parts of me are still awake forever to wish I was there
I rememeber the whites the pearls the distinct anticipation of entering the rawda( heaven!)
yes I Was in heavaen
I
was in
heaven
I prayed and Prayed and prayed
i felt muslim in your mosque prophet mohammed
i felt a beauitful woman
I felt ignited aflame with love
yet white and clean with a new start
I will never forget
the last day before I left................
to be continued next post

I try and picture



I try and picture the scene of True Islam

where people do not mess their plan

fulfilling the tales of what we used to hear

of honour and justice that have dissappeared


green luscious destiny scripted in the bounty of life

we forget the image of the truth, conquest beyond trouble

advancing in strength of history

bravery quests magic angels courage

the times when swords battled armor of dark

and the times when deserts were oceans

and oceans were never apart in faith

for Islam was the truth

and God was the reason

for communication

of word to be spead and Quran to be read


and spun were the soldiers of religious entity

their definition blazing to me through time

they were the meaning of true islam

no lies

just rebellion to never succumb to earth

for their minds were great and powerful


their message strong and wonderful


God is great, We live to say that


____________________
I expand with breathlessness and pain at the advance failure I've become
I wonder a thousand years ago could I have been more beautiful than a modern coward
I wonder a million years ago could I have been a queen of my time
for now I have evolutionised into a small cell of fat
fat of waste globulated with remorse
never able to wake up in the morning when my ancestors did
never able to read Quran in the dawn when my beautiful queen ancestors did
they shone the earth through their love for God
they never missed

I have been goaled on so many times the winner has lost count
100. 200. 300 breaks in love
the cycle is lost between them and I


........................................

Thursday, March 17, 2011

untitled hatred

I hate waiting
escpecially If youre talking to someone else
you chose them over me


I hate being second line
I hate being used
I hate feeling wrong
I hate being the enemy
being misunderstood
failing to achieve
i hate asking for something and being refused
I hate letting someone down
i hate being bored
being dirty
feeling closed
I hate feeling closed
I hate feeling there's no going back

I hate anticipating what others are thinking
i hate trying to imagine what they think of me
i hate waiting
i hate feeling cold
or hot

i hate being in control
but hten i hate losing it

I hate people asking me things I cannot do
I hate thinking of people that do not think of me
i hate thinking of people that dont deserve

i hate thinking
too much
I hate wondering
I hate guessing
guessing all the time
i hate feeling down all the time
I mean like my cards are the ones turned
but the truth is
all my cards are up
and I am the one with all the good things
but they make me feel like I dont have anything

and that is my fault
I pull my cards back down
by thinking what people think

of me

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

untitled frustration

I am beaten by the colours of my despair
I cannot believe I would get this weak
trying to tell someone to forgive me?
when I am really asking myself for forgiveness
I am really asking God for forgiveness
but I am too embarrassed


You know
you reach that stage where u feel so evil and wicked and you think
why am I doing this?
when am I going to stop?

I have no idea why I'm so angry like this
God has been nothing but good to me
I should be the happiest girl in the world

and maybe I am but without expression
I cannot express

I feel uselss defenseless
a ahypocrite
I feel like I deserve to go hell
for what I've written said done thought saw felt touched dreamt

i feel like a hypocrite
I dont say what I think
I dont do what I want
i tell others they are wrong when I am clearly more wrong than them
i tell about others but dont tell about myself

too afraid??
well
imagine if people found out
your dark and dirty secrets
your evil connotations
yur exposed dreams
of they spilt on the floor
like muddy tidal waves
imagine if your real thoughts came alive
imagine if your screams were heard
imagine if what you were doing was heard
imagine if you were wrong and they were right

...which is very close to coming true

my hands hurt
my nails hurt
my hands look like from another century
my mind is running to anotehr era
my heart is pounding for ad ifferent history
and my body feels its stuck here in its day of age trying to collect everyhting together

I am
tired..........

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

untitled emptiness- Bullied

well
it looks like I'm all alone.....
I am the one who deserves to be all alone
I left God all alone didn't I?

It doesn't matter to him
he is never alone
but it matters to me
I can feel the emptiness of my actions
I can feel the pain of regret

People don't understand me?
that is becasue I dont get me

I am always looking for..... something dont kno where it is
I feel very alone at 8.37 am
........


10.36 am
how can I fix
the misery that is within
I spin
with the heavy loads I feel
I cannot bin
my anger
I cannot lose my despair

I saw something I shouldn't
I did something i mustn't
it's like my mum said
I am
weak
so weak
and at this age
back a whole age
it feels like I still need to cry about my bruised kneee
or being bullied

I feel bullied
by me
I feel down
I feel unhappy
even tho I have the world

IMAGINE!
I have the world
I am healthy
Iam happy
I SHould be happy
I have money
I have stability
I have safety
I have a family
I have faith
I have sense
I have a mind
I have power
i have stuff
I have lots of stuff


and yet,,,,
I feel

Bullied

Monday, March 14, 2011

I wish I could tell her that she is wrong and I am right

i wish I could tell her she is wrong
she is wrong and I am right
I am the better one
living here
amidst all danger
amidst all the bombs and all the fury
alll the temptation and lust

I wish I could tell myself I am a good person
a good woman
a cherishable woman
a clean woman
a kind one
a kind of a kind one

I wish I could tell her she has such a boring love story
its not even a complete love story
it's a really boring one
I wish I could prove to her that I am better
that I am sexier and more wanted
I wish I could make her see how important I am


I wish I could make them all see what love awaits me
me first
I want to see

I wish I could tell her I have such a handsome man
a soldier
a true muslim man
a perfect man
a trustworthy
man
a man who is madly in love with me
yet sanely arrives
a man who is passionately in love with me
dangerously in love with me
yet protects me
everything and everyone else

I wish I could make her see how my hair flows nicely and my eyes shine brightly
how my body is dramatic ad sexy
how my moves are special
how i can dance and move
and move and dance
and how everyone can be seduced

by me

I wish I could make her envious
make her feel dissolved
make her feel weak and
make her
feel
like the bad one


but today
here right now
at this moment
I feel wicked
I feel awful
I feel broken
I feel so broken
like I#ve never felt before
and i feel like I am so low
I really cannot go any lower
I feel my account has reached zero
I feel my time has been wasted
I feel my eyes have been killed
I feel my heart has been wounded
I feel my soul has been disgusted
i feel my body is trapped
If it could run it would
I feel my mind is lost
I feel my mind is cruel
so
i cannot tell her that she is wrong
I cannot tell her that I am better
I cannot even open my mouth
I cannot even begin to defend

for I have nothing to defend
I am a broken shield
i am looking for little sand granules when there is an explosion in the sun
the heat of my vision will fry me
the power of evil will vanish me
the thrust of despair will consume me

I cannot even open my mouth
I cannot
no
more.....

Sunday, March 13, 2011

untitled writing animation_sinking ship

I missed how i used to be
I tried to imagine it but I cannot see

I miss the way I used to think
or is it the way I did not sink

I forget the way I used to heal
I no longer know how i used to feel

I once thought I knew it all
now I only know how to fall

I once used to love poetry
now it doesnt mean the same to me

I once used to write for me
now I write for misery
occupied by the wast bank of desires and criminal affairs
I testify to the words that soar through myheart and race out to the world of my pain
nothing can make me write the way I used to for stealing the commodity of my goods he took all my passion and ate it
he took all my whispers and screamed into my ear
suddenly I felt spinning i felt useless I felt in the middle of a war
I did not start but certainly up blend with my every senseless sense of time
a war unintentional but true
a war of travels and no sanction
for nowhere is safe
i run he chases
I stop he defeats me
I try and forget he forces me to remember
I tr and SCREAM
no one can hear
NO ONE CAN HEAR MMEEEEEEE
no one
I want to animate my feelings as fast as possible but they are the fast and the furious of film
i want to write them down before they get lost
I want to use them before i Get old
for I have so many so many unused emotions
he
he is the enemy
he is the meaning of my loss
he is not someone but eveything
he is not a person
buta vanity and insanity
I fail to discover yet know is there
travelling beating me down
taking me offshore
forcing me off the road
while he the world drives
while he the time strives
to find love amidst crossroads
hidden and ridden with danger
with anger
with loss
with what he feels
I can only imagine what he feels
and I can only speed my words up before I forget what he feels
he feels passion for someone new
he feels like he is clever
maybe he is
the he of the broken streets
the he of the best car
the he of the past time
the he of money
the he of body sexual fantasies
nothing is off he
nothing is lost he
everything is maddening he
you see
everything is maddening until i spin
everything is bothering until I cry
I cry so much there are no more tears
just swolllen eyes
I cry so much my muscles hurt
I want to edit
but why should I
am I wrong/
no
am I right?
no either
am i off?
no way
Am i an investigator
?
percieved connotations of a detectives future
i detect we are falling
I detect we are commiserating
i detect we are breaking
I detect our past will not hold for long
it's like the bolts of a sinking ship
bolts dont get destroyed by water yes they rust

but they do not untwist
they do not come apart
a ship sinks as a whole
we are sinking as a whole
the whole family
as one
whole ship
under water....................
as
ONE

Sand animation- Children dying, mothers crying...

http://





I really enjooy this girls work - its different and artistic musical and inspirational

sand animation_ An old man appears

http://

Monday, March 7, 2011

just close my eyes and move in.........



inspired by a little visit to a beautiful house that is so dam romantic I could just close my eyes and dream..................

I dream of lanterns across the outer pavement after a dinner party - joint memories of perfect lamb and grilled chicken/ sorted plates and delicate twists of artisitc reception - feta mint pastries, salmon parsley tarts, sweet chilli sauce,


Glasses of rasberry and lemon juice or .... mango funk - guava pearls - banana shake - bowls of perfectly placed fruit salads smell fresh, smell divine


I dream of little chatterings and loud communication -I dream of happy chocolate ... sitting on emerald stands - whisked by the late interlaced fighting between dark philosophy and pink shatterings of visiting women


But I

I am not listening

for I dream of velvet skies on my walls and passion sweets on the carpet -

I tread on memories stored in white cupboards and a large refrigerator

one of those two part ones that has an ice maker

I dream of a seperate deep freeze not only to freeze trouble but to save macorni prepared dishes and roast beef glazed with garlic infused oil - trouble is sound along with cream rose ice cream and fascinating ganache - it just needs melting ..... across the kitchen

floors spell my love for a house filled with sexy lights just flickering romance and bulbs of tempations

they glisten showerings of joy as water runs through the dining - vases sit proud - watching the air of my work

flowers sway to my hummed dress and black wavy silk of timeless effort

chairs could be accurately measured for their perfect lace and fine strength

yet amongst all this I am gentle

I am a part of the fairytale

it draws itself against my rugs and cushions

each cushion for a reason

each cushion is a reason

for love


I love this house

the one in my dreams

I cannot see it

I cannot touch it

but I can make it

.......

I can see myself , i can see ... things come alive from the drawings in the living room to the kitchen at 3am

I can see the love made

and the pavlovas perfectly gooey in the inside and crisp on the outside - sugar right - creamed with passionfruit? sour strawberries to break the balance ? I havnt decided yet


I can taste the exploration of tea in my tea cups and the colours on my tea pots and the matching of my tea trays and the shape of my tea biscuits and the time of my tea _ adventures

for in ths house

everything has ..... meaningless purity

it has solid imbalance

it has my tiptoes

at 4 am and 2 in the afternoon

it has my coolness and feverish lack of control

it has the man of my dreams.....

it hsa the kids of mydreams

it has te woman of my dreams that is the beginning that is me ......................

GOd I Thannk you

GOd, I Thank you
for your kindness the sunshine right now
I feel dark
Ifeel like I dont deserve

God, I thank you
for all you have done
I feel like youre pulling me into goodness
while my soul keeps setting me back
God I thankyou
for the CONTINUOUS love you have shown
while I have not been that continuous
God IThank you for giving me Islam
for giving me romance
for doing all these things for me
you simply... could have not
God
I love you
and I hate myself
for not hving the strength to recover from doing bad things

I know there are a lot of other good girls who pray for you
and I wonder what level am I on thescale
I mean
Iwonder how many others shine through before me
yes
yes I Am jealous for your love
yes I Am jealous for your safety

Sunday, March 6, 2011

midnight dreams of a sleepless soul_open door


Late, blend my fate
into a miracle of inspired midnight dreams and suspended awakenings
Whatever I say - let me stay
for my heart whispers _ battlefield into the night - I just want to fight
the war to find you
blissful tunes rumble in my head - along my soul they tread
it's like a new chapter in my life
but I've always wanted to become your wife
you
this unintentional drawing Ive created under the fingertips of my dreams
you this handsome creation of inspired salvation
i dream of you everyday and everynight
I pray for you all the time
I smile
I think of you you face
dotted with mystery
and your name still not in my history
but your future
your future
I hold
I hold whenever I'm alone with you
you make me feel like I'm home again
however far away
I will always love you
my calm emotions will rupture into the wilderness just for you to see a trickle
my queit fears will explode into the galaxy just so I can shine for you
I want to shine for you
I hope I can be free for you
simple melodies twist my mind and capture my ride
dictate everlasting destiny
my destiny is to be with you
like clean water
like soft sand
like soldiers under command
like volcanoes erupting
however long I stay
whenever I pray
and to whatever music I sway

creative imagery
against the caress of this moment
I close my eyes and see you in disguise
behind a ticking time
or a rythmical crime
but I know you will be internally mine
and fully honest
and perfectly insane

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

it's not THAT kind of love

it's not that I don't want love
It's not that I'm not thinking of him or him or him
It's just that It's amazing how something in your life can make you forget the nightmares
make you feel gold again
all by yourself
make you feel promised and non invaded

It's not that I am not looking for love
But if you read it
if you analyse it
I am looking for a different kind of love
a different type of miracle
not like last
not like yesterday
not even like the words I wrote in the last post
no
I am looking for ......a moring dew cold and sunny
whispering but loud
deserted passionate unused but charged dramatically kind of love
.....................

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

To my dear Lost L....a new page I open

I wonder what he's waiting for
Could it be me
forever, could it be me
If I asked you to tell the tale of a waiting man
could you figure what's in his heart
or could you try and imagine if he never wants to part
fantasy, could you make itreal
the way he makes me feel
could you make itcome alive
in a dance
in a memory
in a distant place
could I kiss his face
all over
can you tell me what he's waiting for
because it could just be money
or a car
or a place to live
or he likes being single
or he hasnt found the right one
but it could be that.....
he's waiting for something deeper
that he felt a long time ago
but he's not sure
of his feelings
or her feelings
it could be he's waiting for someone to come
or someone to stay
or something to happen
can you tell me what he's waiting for
I wish I could
I wish I could say that I knew what he's waiting for
Love?
Passion?
A sudanese woman with an edge of a twist never seen or heard before
an eccentric accent, but a natural tale
a beautiful lady but too big to be seen
a strong ego?
or fear of being an outsider
a different woman
a different spirit
_________________________________________________________
Dear L, When I think of you I think of a man who truly has everything a man could be. you are brave, successful, strong, family friendly, polite, never rude, precise, handsome, God so handsome, honest , smart, hard working, sweet, closed, impossible, maddening, passionate, wonderful, pure, in black, in detail, in simple words, never could be mine
For i have nothing to balance you
i have nothing to attract you
I am not like you
I am not near you
I cannot depend on destiny that much
I cannot depend on Love being blind
But I will pray
that when you leave me
I will not be sad
and i pray that I will not dissapoint you
no matter what happens
I dont want you to think Im a loser
or a fake
I couldnt take
your glistening eyes being dissapointed like that
So please, I will pray that you are never dissapointed
it's just that
I need our help
I need you equation it fits so well
God it fits so well
you really are my other half
you can fit all my missing spaces
youcan heal my broken heart
you can become my heart
you can speak for me
you can teach me
we can be
we can be
but only if you wanted me L
only if you wanted me
So can you tell me please
just tell me
tell me

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' -