Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

4.12.17 | royal temptation (this whole poem is a tease.)

I always find it overwhelmingly intriguing, when the heart gets tugged at this way, you feel it in such a raw and familiar calibre that its almost possessive, how quick the heart chooses a kind of trouble, knowing so well how forbidden it will taste, honeyed, these invisible chains are dangerous to a heart that knows no boundaries when it comes to who it’ll sweeten only for them to touch, glance at and tease, they don’t know this kind of willingness is so much painful and pleasure, so dangerously tempting, its really unfair to make the heart and mind turn want into need this much, watching the way heartbeat speaks only to fantasies about what heat can be done about thier throne to this body, how they can come and drink all of this hydration, to nourish them in ways that can only be teased by the sweetest parts of the mind until they are well fed, which means by me, until we are both full, and watch, how they comand this body, need a heartbeat that can dominate both, both honesty and this, a throne of all this woman and all that royalty, come closer, you can’t possibly be comfortable looking like that, let me help you become a little more familiar with the way I mean

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Article #1: My name is Fatma, I am a 22 year old from Melbourne, Australia. Here is my story.

Hi, my name is Fatma, I’m a 22 going 23 this year. I am a sister, daughter, activist, blogger, fashion intrigued, clinically depressed, self-care, mental health creative writer who lives in Melbourne. Here is my story.

I was born and grew up in Kenya Nairobi, with both my parents one older sister, my younger sister and my baby brother. In 2002 we moved to Melbourne Australia. When I was 10 years old I was a shy kid that didn’t talk much and had one friend who I was with for a short time but after a while we drifted apart most of it is a blur which I honestly believe is a suppressing of my memory. When I was 10, it was the first time I had ever tried to kill myself, it was also around this age I had started writing, but to me it was just a way to express my feelings because I didn’t talk much or at all. I was bullied by one girl who up to this day will never forget her full name, and from here on out my life started to really take a toll on me mentally without me consciously realizing nor understanding. I started to feel as though I was just existing rather than living.

When I was in year 7, my mental health really plummeted. If you asked me about this year I literally have very little memory of it. I only remember finally having a group of friends in school, and being able to slowly talk and laugh but even up to this day I can’t remember if it was coping or compensating for my lack of visibility and isolation through out my primary school years and daily life from school and home. I also become more suicidal, and my family knew nothing of this. My routine at home consisted of me going to school, and living in my bedroom.

When I was in year 8 this is when I met my best friend who is still my friend up to today. She helped me with getting my confidence little by little, and slowly I grew into the person I am today. I am always very grateful to her, she has given me so much I can’t ever put it into words. Even with my personality starting to show I was still very caught up in my head and had all these unexplained emotions. But I figured everyone felt this way and that I would grow out of it as I get older.

I didn’t. As I got older, until I was 20 I was having recurring panic attacks mostly at night that I didn’t even know what was happening at the time, then after a while I realized something might be wrong. So it was this whole year that I started researching how I felt emotionally, physically and mentally to find out I might have major depression. I was in so much denial for a whole year and a half and this made my mental health worse. At this point, I had no motivation to do anything, even more suicidal, easily irritated, didn’t eat well, and shut everyone out.

Since then, I have made a blog for my creative writing, performed my first ever three poems on stage in Melbourne Afrocentric, made great friends, starting to network with beautiful creative souls in Melbourne, much closer with my sisters and brother, seeing a professional, and I am much more able to communicate my feelings now; And in the works of creating my brand for the organic skin care market.

My mental health is something I truly struggle with everyday, but it is also something I pride my time and care in. I am still learning about it and learning to take good care of it and my body in three cycles (emotionally, physically and mentally), to be much kinder to myself and know that my depression does not define me, it assists in molding me into a better person each day. Even when the really bad days make it feel like it can’t get any better, even so, this, is when I know I am the most creative.

Thank You.

Fatma Hussein

 

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

18.8.17 | Kind

Been rationally drowning self in understanding how it is you love someone and whether words that learn how to cut tongues and bind itself to narrative that live in the masquerades of awkward glances, side way smiles and pretty words, how we, are watching love move, and dip its self first, is this really love at all, capable of taking such an intensity by what you seek rather than what you see, I mean, if we really think about what it means to love someone beneath the surface of what is in our horizon and feel, one of the unambiguous confessions left honestly is what we seek, I’m not repeating about the way we configure tangibles and intangibles, I’m begging what varies, the in between instances where when we make a decision without a seconds thought, immediately play a mental monologue of what we think we saw in love, and there, caught in the gloss memoirs of what we seeked to begin with, in them, holding onto hidden between silver measures of their imperfections, reminding them and ourselves of how fragile we can all be, the human heart beating at each attempt, always, do we really know love at all, what Im really trying to say is a friend once told me, don’t be in a rush, and I remember looking at her and thinking, those are words I have memorized for myself before.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

18.8.17 | Care

The introverted mind, a consolation of masses that are too much to even ponder and what it really means when you’re watching the grey sky from inside of your bedroom window, a mental hereon of an illness that leaves you feeling the breeze from inside the body and learning to care about yourself even if its narcissistic, I’ve come to learn that even with all the pondering done there’s not much room left for taking a break, even so, there is a huge appreciation for silence which most would find softly uncomfortable, but when you’re this invested uncomfortable learns to settle into a kind of body and politely it becomes a survival thing, when you spend this much time with the mind and this kind body you pick up on care that is much deeper than what you may have previously composed, you also don’t like picking up phone calls, so often we forget that its okay to be our selves, its hard to remind a kind of existence that only knows what its been told is okay, and the way we unconsciously allow something that is not greater than us to set our kind of normal being, still, it is not our fault, need to learn ourselves to be kind to our own, and never be submissive or kind to a system that is not kind to you, said that we don’t have to be so strong all the time we don’t have to hide so much of ourselves just to please a temporary feeling, a temporary person, we’re always allowed to feel as valid as someone we love, because if it were them, this strange, you would be softer, kinder, and you would love them harder.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

24.7.17 | 26.7.17 | 27.7.17
Beautiful

Do you see, how we have been taught to cower at mirrors the way we shy away from this kind of creation, how the roots of our hair is to deify gravity, how we been conditioned by a system that likes to keep us in trend, wanting to learn our hair matched to theirs but never these roots, never these kinks, do you see, the ways we’ve been told how this skin should never know flowers, such beauty is unattainable, starting with these shades, do you see, hidden between compliments that are snatched right back after its been taking from the back of our throats, the ways in which we see this skin has affected the how we live this life, unapologetic, soft, fire, black, woman, that there is nothing wrong with feeling like you’re beautiful everyday, sneak kisses into this body so it knows true love from within, to know how this body hugs you back is to know how to love yourself first, when you witness its secrets like petals that fall into your palms, is one of the most beautiful photosynthesis there is, how we can see love glimmer in loves eyes the way they are careful with their words, mention them as sweet, and honest, in the same sentence as much as it demands, you have never, been pretty for a black girl, don’t listen to these kinds of poison dipped potions, this skin has been strong, and shackled to never to brake at those who don’t understand its nooses, that having this type of history, that knows how back bone from the lines measured identity in vines of our hands means, to be able to reach out and grab this kind of love back, this kind of unity, self love, and care can never be known by just anybody, you’re permission and solution in your own matched womanhood, see this alive the way we look at words like love, like self, like care, beauty, kind, like identity, like and still black, be the persona of woman that is this much magic to her own reflection, undone, from those who peel back at this skin not knowing how much love it has taken to be bright light shine, back at the mirror in front of her, in front of you, bare all your secrets sheen enough for those who are deemed magic bliss, glimpse this being a shooting star miracle from her birth right which is to see how far you have come all on your own, do you see, how your reflection is magic, your existence is defiance, that you have always been this kind of woman.

Poetry: Melofy of Being Animate

24.7.17 | 26.7.17

If you listen closely, you can hear the mind telling this body words that feel a lot like the ways in which fake, dishonest, like to come close and hug its most vulnerable parts that think belong to this body, how this mental state isn’t something so temporary, that you can’t just turn its function off, that survival, is the same as this health, how quick this illness likes to give metaphors meaning in the same sentence as its brainwashed malaise, you’re worth all the effort, how each word cuts the tips of the tongue, there is always a show of what’s left to unpack, doesn’t like to be misunderstood, this illness, will hurt you first before it hurts the heart working its way up to the mind, how fragile you are, how strong you have be, this mindful can’t see the other side, convinced you’re here forever, don’t ignore what is happening here, this feeling, is trying to talk to this body, tell you how it doesn’t like to be misunderstood remember, to be cradled and rocked, can you see the way it’ll pull at the places where the hurt is most tender do you remember, will mention words like heal and broken to soften a passing feeling, its not always this lonely, in this moment you’re to use a gentle hand, whisper this body to witness all the light in compliments sweet into ears and able to stay this humble, be this kind, we’re all gifted and gift to somebody, to be careful with our words, never use them in split tongue, this is how you brake broken people, we’re all creations of our own, never to be consumed by others but ourselves, in the most tasteful way we perceive this bodies alive, if you listen closely, you can hear the mind telling this body it has always belonged to please its own downfall and accountable to its self, be careful with your words, they are the type of narrative that can dream or damp this beings efforts, do not use them in fit rage, you’re to choose its caliber wisely before you regret its escape from the mouth, as human beings this is the least we can do, as human beings this is the least we can do to stay this balanced, a form of evidence, how we, are all chemically cinematic in hope of balanced sane mobile actuality, this, is what is means to unpack the mind in ways which astound the average being, this is how the mind talks to me when it finds, the right ways to conjoin its fate into my hands, roaming this body its feeling awaiting its welcomed here, I am a home to myself before I am home of any other being animate, melody in twin, I am the poetry in this being first, this is the kind of sweetness that can not be earned by eye candy, you must be as sweet as you look, the sweetest way to tempt a kind of body that has been learnt off pretty enough before sweet inside of this beautiful body, wanting to be sweet enough for both and can only hope melody of animate will do the same.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

12.7.17 | 13.7.17
Black Woman (self,..black women before and now.)

About this self, about how this body is blessing, is all this woman, is a careful result of rituals self-love, how it resonates and resurrects with this kind of illness, is a anxious body learning to call its scared oasis defiant, for the way it learns to yield at this entrenched state of mind, there aren’t many instances this body gets to feel this kind of solidarity, in a room filled with this kind of love, so used to being expelled at words that know how well we sit crossed and armed, we must teach each other how to use our inherited the way we like to keep this body safe and honest, teach its complexities to ourselves so we can unlearn its unauthorized cycle, that we don’t always have to be this pretty to know this kind of broken, how each woman can be both, can be this beautifully broken and still call it healing, not ashamed of being this kind of woman, that strong isn’t always barley seen, I am no strange to the familiar way this melanin is strummed and dipped in a different kind of beauty, called and shackled by those who taint its shade for palatable, easy to taste but never worth its full feast, how this skin is a movement for the way we look at our black skin, has always been beautiful, the way this natural has always played against the rules, they have always something to say about the way they appropriate, I mean take, I mean brake, I mean black women, we come together and unit to sugar cane, endlessly teasing the largest star in the sky, how we bleed this kind of woman, words that speak ancestral lineage, unfinished and untold voices that will never anchor at those who attempt to cease what black womanhood before us have taught deep into the system, how we have been taught that strength comes from the way black women who have fought for black woman rise even after us, Maya AngelouΒ says, there is no agony like bearing an untold story inside of you, how Rosa Parks called on us, to remind this black body of woman is agency, for this type of unity, said, all great achievements require time, and still do we witness black women who are living these prophecies in stated greatness, Viola Davis, Taraji p Henson, Janelle Monae all these black women who are reflections of such trinity, queens, handing down wisdom in all types of empowerment, reminding black women that we are the worlds tempest living out dreams, fables that can not be bound so easy, make enough loud to show this world we are here, we have always been, here, and guarded, of fight.

Poem: Melody of Being Animate

21.6.17
keep me (beautiful weakness..)

I might care for you more than you’re willing, able to feed this body with the love I have drowned you into its own meaning, you’re the first and last thought I think about, and its frightening when I think you’re ever leaving, I reminisce so much of the way you speak, remembering words that have been beauty marked into my heart, this fear of loving is making me unable to show you too much of the ways in which I have missed so much of you, it’s tiring, loving when you’re afraid of the receivers response to this intense feeling, this kind of longing is no temporary sensation, the eyes have watched you long enough to miss the way you have been seen into this body, a beautiful weakness, I want to be an intense feeling bind your words to my heart, keep your body close to the mind so you’re unable to live without its warmth, love you the way flames feel when you get too close, I want to melt in your arms long enough to be called yours, you’re a beautiful weakness, and I love the way you form words that are as soft as the way you want to indulge me, keep me safe, I want to be all yours.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

19.6.17
life..(interlude..)

A welcomed conversation, how often do we get to sit this comfortable and witness the mind this open, do not forget about its illness it is a valuable asset to its existence, it is no disciplined definition, it is a diffident kind of love, we are still learning to exist with its interference’s, learning fearlessness from back bone, and fluid flowing into our stream, how often are we welcoming and welcomed of uncomfortable, do we accept its way of healing and slowly allow the word love to grace the mimic of our mouth, let the sun light in, you have been gone too long, been seen too often of room dimmed in candle lit long enough just to be called empty, you’re not empty, remember this heart, has been beating for every kind of love so many times there is no limit to selflessness, and the mind constantly having to be hero for the way this body beautifies, and how the body has learnt to hide behind broken so beautifully, we are only here to exist as we want, as we choose so careless to its boundaries, who needs constraints when you have found the absolute in living each day, when you’re hero each day-, thank you for reading this, I hope we can do this again sometime.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

14.06.17 | love song (bind me to you..need)

“..what does the body do when it has found a way to solve heart beats, it doesn’t know how to catch this feeling and learn to let it go so easily, this feeling, has found a way to stay in this body, can’t call it uninvited, how do you do that, make it feel like you’re the only one who can make it feel like this body needs, you, when you control do you mean the way the mind has also fallen-, linger, no, stay here longer, I am slowly binding my words to match yours instead of losing them in your eyes I want to lose them somewhere along the same intensity of what you love, somewhere permanent, I want you to need this entirety.”