Melody of Being Animate: Poetry

Humility in humanity | 7.05.2024

I’m being forced to think about how I see myself in spaces I have begged to find. I watch as my body unwinds and learns to slowly ease into the comfort of people who see the good in humility. I am reminded of the importance of self, the reflection it begs at your most jarring and honest critic—yourself. It is here we get the opportunity to really see who we are without the thought of what preys on unpleasant behavior. How we view ourselves is how we turn the word humility inwards, realizing we only have ourselves to succeed.

Do you remember the tale I told about the rain, how it likes to visit us when we are most connected to ourselves? I’ve been thinking about the state of creation it puts us in, how it runs our minds wild, and we exist to live here. Our passion for ideas is so sweet here. The water here is boundless. And just like Ali Bin Abi Talib, Radhi Allahu Anhu, the first Imam of our faith, we dig and dig for the sake of God’s love, for the sake of God to look at the life we have been given and cherish its privileges, living in good intentions and righteousness.

It is when we unlock this weather that we are able to confide in God and connect our hearts closer to the teachings of what has been written for us before our dear Prophet Muhammad, Sallallahu Alayhi Wasallam, could read or write. The teachings of humility in the human connection and unwavering trust in Allah Subhanahu Wa Ta’ala were written for us to subscribe to. The way the world moves, including its demise, the Book of God is our key to the paradise we dream of on this earth. The fruition of our discipline, the control of our desires, has always been at the tips of our tongues, biting the inside of our cheeks, praying as we let go of worldly desires. The unfolding of societies—it is only with the permissible permission of God do we have this glory.

Melody of Being Animate: Poetry

Ocean24 | 21.02.2024

My mind is racing and I am hearing what it looks like for eyes to begin to flood his office, I see the way he looks at my pacing hands I wonder if he can see my thoughts, I shake it off and answer his question, then he asks me about my life, asking how I like it breathing here, I tell him alive, I look into his eyes and ask him about my life he shrugs and asks my mind to stop calling for its name, to ask for help in ways he does not want to hear me speak, he wraps my mouth with what has been told to him even though he knows nothing about my mind he tells me to stop complaining, said am I always this impulsive about my environment I tell him yes, asked do you always just get up and leave I say yes, he asked me if I was anxious, as though he could see me avoiding his eyes because they lied to me as soon as I stepped foot into the room not meant for me, he called me dramatic and asked for my evidence, I froze and told him that when I was 14, 15, 16, 17, 18 I needed help in school, explained to him I was always lost, I couldn’t figure out who was lying anymore and I could feel my body want to run, could never find my way to the same answers as my class mates so I learned to stay silent, when I was 15 I was told to put that book down, I was questioned about my understanding standing up head down I could create oceans about how the education system has failed to teach me, I was left behind or laughed at I felt helpless for myself, my home was a wreck I quickly learned to keep her safe and this is when I first met my masked self, I took a deep breath and said nothing, I watched him talk about me as though I didn’t just spill myself into his hands as he wrote his notes into the computer I remember thinking this is why I don’t talk to you people about it, I left that empathy and cried about doing something good for my home only to cry about how my health was mishandled, checking my body to see if she is okay she was not so we cried together until it stopped, then we promised our home to not give up our mind. She deserves her peace, too, even after all this time.

Melody of Being Animate: Poetry

Astro creatures | 8/10/2023.

I tell her come down

Our world has fallen before heartstrings know when they have been had

When they have been replaced with what makes more sense, the how in heart behaviour, she has been the replacement long before she was born

Her blood curses her out in her favourite way, out loud and green some of us prefer to perish before the after life we like to be in control of our mortality

Some of us have vanes that seem blue but are actually disguised as green

I’ve been told to stop feeling so blue to stop being so blue but how do I let them know that for you to survive the next level is to murder your ego, I advice them

Take your mask off this instant.

They never warn you about yourself unless the skin matches the mirror

Here, we get to close and wonder why,

Here, we make connections that are dreamt into astro they don’t tell you that a carrot is a hybrid that if you eat too much for your vision you might turn into an orange light

Fuck around disappear, fuck around become clean, here we like to play with the words and evolve them as they desire to appear, here we live in open awareness, -here we choose this way of a life first.-

What they don’t tell you about happiness is that it is okay alone too, what they don’t tell you about love is that it will require and surrender you first every-time. – when you feel this is a clear sign of vulnerability, I will charge your time for this healing. Next time it won’t be this cheap.-

Melody of being animate: Poetry

4:44 what I saw. | 30.08.2023

I hear you, loud and clear, you watching the tree’s talk to each other and blame it on the wind, its fine this way you think standing feet rooted to the door step of your home you take a deep breath, –knock knock.– Come in, and kindly leave your shoes by the door in this household we like to feel again, come in, respectfully gage my attention I have been known to follow my heart the days talk, come in, and let’s talk about why gardens are metaphors for ours this one is for bodies that feel their souls as they succeed themselves, –come in, leave your mask in that fish tank you won’t be needing it here. This home has been known to challenge what you think you already understand.– I hear you loud and clear, knock knock, the door opens and it’s her, the one who we do this for she is here, I walk over to her she must be scared, she tumbles in grabbing at my finger they talk about roses out there but they leave the part out about the thorns, -she ask’s us why do they leave the thorns out, don’t they see that without it there isn’t, don’t they see how delicate we hold them so close to our bodies-, we all take a deep breath as we do our best to keep her safe and ready for the first world.

My heart, we have been here so long sometimes we forget that there have been others even before her, I hold her right hand and we walk towards her eyes, look at the beautiful garden we have created with everything we have accomplished I know that we want so badly to be seen it could turn tears into oceans, -the mind has a ways about her eyes I think to myself-, I can’t help but wonder about the ways we have spent of us pouring, pouring, pouring, pouring until you have to learn when to stop and look at what is in front of you, I tell her never mind because I don’t want her thinking more than she already does it has a way of making it heavy, -the mind cups her left hand guiding her through the garden she has grown for herself- I want everyone to see the good things take time, they whether faster then they grow you’ll see, as we are walking we stumble upon mind’s memories thinking about how we learnt to let go of parts of us that thought to keep us safe rather kept us hidden, -they don’t talk about how we are all learning to survive ourselves then live- my heart, I’ve been wondering why you think this way of the first world, this world has taught more than ourselves and what we are willing to do to keep our justice, it has taught us how to love harder even when we are being screamed at why do you do this to yourself, it has given us purpose to live in our truth if we surrender to our choices, I’ve heard how they make fun of peoples homes these people are learning how to survive their homes, we get to choose how our choices unfold it teaches us language such as mauwa ya akili the art reads flowers for the mind already we hear the waves of memories and feelings it streams, -we laugh together take a deep breath as we take time to be present again, doing our best to keep her safe and ready for her first world.-

Melody of Being Animate:Poetry

It’s over a year old and still makes sense. How do we make sense of love? | note sure just read:2023 (Actually <edited> 22 May 2023) me: oh thats today, great! *adds to time stamp Also me: Oh, not today okay cool.

Chaotic sweet melodic voice that finds its way into dreams in the deep blue black silvering nights, did she ever tell you why she knows the whisper of your heart calling their name will not let you rest until they have heard you speak your mind say love I have come to tell you about a feeling unmatched that have been keeping light awake in the early night, yet — here we are, everytime you close your eyes we see to cross paths you hear the most life has a ways of putting us on pause we do not like the disturbances but we appreciate the visits after us, asking you have you understood the significance of its affairs I want to tell you about a love story so kept it felt itself to share, I talk about love but I do not talk about being loved I wait in silence I am afraid of the times giving and the hearts spent giving out chances like they were wild sunflowers growing in my garden, my home, a safe haven I still think about the moments in memories astounded that this is what you might just be, — isn’t potential a funny word, I could ask when loving became this challenging but I already know the answer to that, speaking to you like this has never been easy I imagine you as we were the clouds, and the blue sky and the stars in the night hidden in the day light awake just a fall asleep with the rise your voice your eyes your hand holding mine feels like an intimate scent familiar, here, that I can never forget no matter how hard I have tried I wonder, when you question love what does that mean, it’s confusing being filled with emotional logic, it’s confusing making sense of words such as love whelmed like they’re so close like you could touch them, —close your eyes, and smell it whisk the air beside you but you know it’s more than that, this does not have an adequate meaning, Love is an ambiguous compassion, it’s not something that can be understood apart from the two individuals involved humorous isn’t it that love can make take on any shape desires, any form but also special, almost heroic, almost, — brilliant.

Melody of Being Animate: Poetry

14.3.23 | Love meets Loving.

I haven’t written about her since our last conversation with blood since we walked away from our light to face our shadow since we blindfolded our mind(s) to the world and shut inwards. We haven’t felt this world since we were reunited with our second, our heart has missed our care and sensitivity to self, our mind has been busy learning to unlearn itself and together we are teaching her about free will, she has waited o long to be here. –I don’t think we have met. My name is divergent. It’s nice to finally be seen.– Realizing your mind has never looked this loving, it has never looked this respected we have found our respect for self and are passing it down to the generation of our trauma in this world and the second, we are actualising a life we have known in the second home and finally living in its light, we are not ashamed of our intelligence we are not suffocating our spirit and we are intentionally unconditionally-zing our life of choice, we have worked on our body in this home long and honest, we have trusted her path for us and she has held our hand through every hurt, we are no longer giving chances to those who do not present with empathy, love, respect, boundaries, gratitude, and many more extensions of a successful life. We are living a successful life. We have lived past each day, and our mind has suffered silent battles, and we have held her hand through every breakdown. We are her first love. We have fallen in -love with ourselves again.–

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

The undead. | 16.11.22

Russ sang (2021) “Misunderstood, you only see
Pieces that fit your view of me
Your mind is made up, my hands are tied
Misunderstood time after time.”

I missed this, grape dreams high as grape trees we are the undying melodramatics that sit in the evening sky to hear if the world sounds different now, we see so much of its life on our bodies, the lines that curve our palms to the light hairs that gaze at the afternoon brief sun, welcome to Spring. During this time of year, we are most of everything and anything at once, we prefer to be called Spring in late November. I can hear the chants louder now, I can listen to our bubbly life crush like waves against the currents, I tell you I can feel it all. I mean I can listen to how my hearts feelings break with every gas-lit, I can feel my mind see the shuttering of possibilities of loosing who I have worked so hard to become at the sight of undying love, to watch as the operation in me the 33 reason just to be forsaken and granted otherwise; have we not died enough? I often ask myself now was there anything to save if there wasn’t anything wanting to be saved, burning more Cole, more Russ and Russel we have been finding ourselves too long they say to me -you have been anything but what I want you to be-, screaming with their mouth closed I think to say screaming with my mouth open. -I am no one but myself first-, reciting citation of nothing but mad mouths and not my mouth we have not been each other around each other, we have been hesitating to bare truth knowing this will not work for us. Our love does not stand a chance against our truth,- and so I ask, have you heard of the Spring in late November? Have you read her words and yielded their power for truth in front of fear? Have you witnessed to brave Spring bring back November from the wake of realms to present then you have not lived long enough to witness the rebirths of deaths. -A fearless spirit guided by untamed compassion.- There is nothing to fear here -I tell her, love.- Loves come in great forms and leaves a Spring in late November, we are the prophecy of its legend.

Russ sang (2021), “I’m tired, I’m tired, I’m tired, I’m tired, I’m tired
Of overexplaining myself when you don’t want to get it
I’m not responsible for what you don’t understand
Just for what I say and who I am.”

To my defence I missed this, grape dreams high as grape trees we are the undying melodramatics that sit in the evening sky to hear if the world sounds different now, we see so much of its life on our bodies, the lines that curve our palms to the light hairs that gaze at the afternoon brief sun, welcome to Spring. During this time of year, we are most of everything and anything at once, we prefer to be called Spring in late November.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

Child. | 28.7.22

Thinking about the time I first learnt to dream, thought about how my dreams felt in my mind and watched them carry my body into different lives, at the time though to be linear I was balancing two life’s, thought about one demise, then I thought about how I first learnt to dream again and again and I felt my body melt at our persistence for a taste at a life, I felt safe here, I felt heard I could hear our home choose words that did not break our spirits here we learnt to dream, at the end of our beckoning of our pit fall we looked at the hole we dug and dragged our dreams up with us, we carried everything we wanted to be and gave it life in the form of our second life which presented as our first, I say blessings are always at the pit of our mindset, they take form in many smart I mean careless, I mean look what I have done with all of our work, I worked hard for us, for our dream look at me and all I have done to work hard for our dream, I have started our dream in oceans and rose them from the seas wet sand up crashing with the wave as they find their way home, I have to remind our home that it resides here too, that our realities may coldie however in this one we are the most how far we’ve come, —I tell her we have Matchbox Twenty our life into a simple plan peaces of me and this song saved my life, my memories of my life are still in motion in my mind we are the Ever Lasting Friend who chose to pick up the parts of herself that rested her inner child we speak of her less and less here this way it is most needed, each day we are in remembrance of her oceans that brought us to these shores we are her safe heart her gate keep, we are her protectors she has many that come after her we do not run at the sight of danger we root our feet into the wet sand and call on our home as loud as the dark sea’s crashing upon dark wet sand we are here to protect our own for all the meddling creatures that think to dampen our fire disguised as the great sea’s.—

Melody of Being Animate: Poetry

The goddess of love and passion. | 18.3.22

And so I tell them, I am more than you could swallow, —I make my own bones shake, we are not the same.— I tell them, my existence is to experience me and stay full on my own, I remind them it is not my responsibility to inspire your flame the way I walk upon this self couraged confidence I have crafted fates we are not the same, I tell myself you’re the goddess of love and passion you imitate your power so loud some may think it to be for them and selfish yet selfless you stay three burning flames, selfish like the way your love has learnt to share more into our home before she agrees to bring her waters and bowed head to the cook out of celebrations, dare her light be selfless as though her power be the only godly gift about her. — We have always stepped into our shadow so we can turn into calm water and earth, we are the garden of ease. We displeasure of temperaments here to break our necks and not our backs, say I Will never be responsible for your happiness I am building my legacy too high for my emotions to lay bare for my worth of anything taste emotion from another’s lips first, I am the goddess of love and passion.

Melody of Being Animate: Poetry

To the greatness of us all. | 5.1.22

To the nights where my mind is filled with more ache than thoughts, I tell her I will hold her for however many times she needs she is needed here our home together just like this and much more, I comfort her with my dreams we watch the two sun’s rise to remind us we have always also been the sun’s in our lifetimes, we sit in silence listening to the air make soft music creating notes into our home that soothe us here in this dream life, — when I wake find my mind in her solitude I am reminded of our bodies freedom, how each pulsed thought shares some of its truth here before it leaves our home, our air has always been fire proof we have been working with the new gifts for the purpose of moments of pure clarity on what to do with the idea that you have to be at your most welcomed self belief in love with you and I hope you find what time is to you about this memory. — affirm that you can, you will and you can, give yourself grace, you have to be willfully mindful of these paths they are made to cross create a life worthy of your help on a continuum, the choice is always yours for the seizing.