Tuesday, September 2, 2014

target illiterate of dreams

time for a proposal
dont go back
only forward
if i  do say so myself

want to know
my whereabouts?

im somewhere between stuck and free

in love with myself/... and yet that bit consumed with essential misery

dont know why

I can shock myself with life music
baby couldnt you tell?

making a whole lot of ideas

and htats what i do

am the best at what i do
and yet

am not the best in who I am

feeling unsolid
already in love with myself
but never showing it

im a mess
yet too blessed to be stressed

life drama exists and i resist to give in
yet i never win
my chances
and i always give th wrong impressions
im a beautiful queen
yet I look a like a poor beggar of dreams

Love and affection
writing is my king
like him
and I do want to ask for the world
flying in his arms
and travelling the world
for the skies are our limit
and i exist only with his wings

wrong impressions
love and affections
too depserate for his touch
his mind
a sterling for his beautiful thoughts
and ways that consume me

its all unravelling
the secrets of his eyes
and the crevices in his life

dont slip
and yet i love slipping in his kiss

its repetitive
its the beating of my heart for him
and yet all ican think of

how dissapointimg i am
i am poor
in strenght
cold in my ways
and i cant work miracles

when i hold him close

its heartbreaking
my voice swells with regret
maybe it is my fault
and maybe Allah is with me always

i love her sweet entrance

i wonder what he will think that very instant
and that very delicate twindle of fate
that we are together again
in my part of the world

at least i can talk better here
at least i can sort it out it here
at least i can ..... forget here
and calamatiies are smaller

i think

she knocks on my door and that is a tragedy
i dont like being so close
to sin
and knowing this....woman
is not going anywhere but ....

I dont know its not my decision
but I just know

its calm somewhere around me and i have all the time in the world to type my statemennts away

but what is it that i want to state?

i miss my love for beyonce
she rocks

and is ./was my inspiration

and now i just keep her in a shelf in my soul
along with all the other beautiful things in my life

my mother tell me i have so much clothes
she asks why havnt you worn any of this?
i wonder
and if you buy anything you would just be stupid
shes right

i always buy and never use
buying makes me feel better
wearing my body i can never make glamorous


i have no love and affection for my body

but all that has to change
 for im sick of letting the unsuccessful with ssuccessful names consume me


No comments:

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' -