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

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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' -