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Not in vain

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I bear my pain... my loneliness and suffering  my dissatisfaction... while going to the war within I take my wounds and bleeding.. my restlessness and angst... Strenuously, but not in vain. My imprisoned mind is my eternal nest, until I hear you're free.. My misery is my avid companion until they hear your plea... My pain will continue to stab my chest Until your children shed no scarring tear... I will stay wired to the fog sieging my brain, like the fence they confined your breathing kingdom with. I don't own the treasury to buy the intruders out of your land I don't have the arm to shield you from their missiles But I have my Being and my all I realize now I have already gone to war for you My suffering made no sense The stale bounty of the world thrown in vain If the watching world has not yet come to the rescue know that life has already stopped outside of your soil Untill you're free, Palestine.    

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It feels scary and unwelcoming I haven't been here in so long do I dare to face the blankness?  I am staring at it, so feverishly  do I still have what I don't know if I ever had? where was I? did I run away or detach? I couldn't run away  I couldn't hide not because she won't let me hide  but there are spots and little corners where I can hide made by her so everywhere I go, is just another passageway  It's a blank paper's maze It's a blank paper's world  

"Thought Provoking" Questions: My Answers

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 It's been almost a year since I last made a post. It's a combination of many things as to why I went MIA from this blog. Not much to be shared but between growing conscious of how much I post online and failing to detach from certain personal encounters that inspired a couple of my previous posts, I felt compelled to take some time off and even contemplated shutting the whole thing down. I didn't and shouldn't do it! I have a history of shutting down a precious blog earlier and I am not to repeat the same reaction. No more letting external events intervene in the fate of my personal spaces; though I must mention, this is still a publicly accessible territory and I intend to only pour splashes of the personal onto it; the rest can be anything other than reflective of my "reality"- what I stand for and go through-. Unless I verbally emphasize my self-involvement in the subject, your attempt to pigeonhole me is purely speculative and perhaps even projective of y

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  Do you want to make me or break me? The million flesh-ravenous faces you show me To spark a flame around my fist My crude fist of dawn when blood hasn’t yet boiled to let me see with clarity if you want to make me or break me The bulging surges that swirl around you entice the child   over the adult at times and you become just a game of fun No winning or losing, no lesson learned or man-crafting & at times, the wise unravels the absurd You make life lessons be drawing a smile over my face In awe; do you want to make me or break me? Just like life you are solid, muscle-wounding and bone-breaking As many faces you mirror, primitive tears fell down Testing courage and disparaging strength Affirming one last ground Never trust a rebound of your own made For the most menacing opponent of self is oneself Then again, what do I know? I’m just a child chasing salience Thinking in a fatigued soul’s words Before I embody the fresh energy of life

Running Through Spring

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Yes you....I am thinking of you  what else would it be?  It is spring again, my favorite season but not my favorite time The flowers are blooming  the maple is finally green I yearned for this time all the chemistry is tuned but the mind is still restless The maple shouldn't have gone green she looked the most alluring  just like your delicate existence  'out of sight, out of mind' you dwelled in mine with your absence your prudence that crushed a dream though kept the warmth alive it kept me alive The maple shouldn't have gone green the fire orange, crowned the chocolate grey trunk with a portentously gloomy setting heralding that darkness can be charming and neat just like you you will never be mine I have no picture of the maple, but her reflection is beaming in my eyes just like the idea of you is engraved in my running florescence Thank you for giving me something to long for you are too sensible and I am too fearful & running through spring  so I can see the m

The Regular Monday

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  A day or a dream? It's like any winter/spring Monday Wake up to a gloomy sky and tasteless breakfast How can one submerge in the bitter joy of a hasty coffee? I don't remember where I spend the night is it here or there? how should it matter when none of the beds are mine I can't say for certain whether I missed summer and a day at the beach because shortly after, it is water everywhere it cascades from the sky to land on the ground  its little drops coil so tightly to spread like bedsheet one that is meant to strip not cover the million lies and promises  of budget robbers and dwellers' carelessness to lamp the impoverished and challenge the furnished its little drops coil so tightly to spread like bedsheet to cover the tears and wounding words behind to washaway the blood and dirt of a forgotten sacrifice to drown our cars like our drowning dreams this engraves in mind an unforgotten Monday I ride in the gestating floods mistaken for my tears and imprisoned mind &qu

Just another rainy day

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— What are you doing now? —  nothing. I am supposed to be wrapping up the final preps for the lesson plan today. Teacher's job does not take place solely in the classroom you know... —  Right! I heard it's a 24/7 job! —  Well not exactly to that extent...but  alot of the work follows you befor and after every session. —  True, still wish I was a teacher though...I'm sure it's better than sitting in a desk for hours waiting for clients to check in. I can't even excuse myself when we have no visitors... —  Well he isn't here...can't you like sneak the last hour out?  —  can't you see the camera on top of you? —  Uh-oh! Sorry if I speak any longer imma get you in trouble it seems... —  haha! That's okay I don't think he monitors my speech as well... —  how do you know? There could be some micro-sound transmitter as in no joke! —  Well I can't confirm for sure...but I have said all sorts of nasty stuff about him, never sensed any reaction from hi