Saturday, 3 August 2013

juvenile prism
letting light shine through
we hide our emotions in four corners
you'll have to smash my mirrors to see them

Sunday, 28 April 2013

Indestructible Consequence

memories are like vessels on the ocean
poisoned and floating
sunk for our own good,
buried deep.

Until time ebbs away
it's ruins
and they rise to the surface
like shattered mirrors

reflections of once broken lives,
remembered with a sombre silence.

The hairs on my body stand
as if they too uphold respect
of passing moments
be they beautiful or not

and I shudder
trying to remove each pin and needle
dug into my skin
like enforced acupuncture

unbearable heat attacks my pores
I rub salt into the minute passages
eyes closed, I grimace at the pain

regret taught me that
self-inflicted anguish
is relief.

So I emerge from shame
like the widow emerging from a pyre,

Screaming to the skies at Indestructible Consequence

As inadequate rays
keeps me cold
and a disappointed sun
watches on.

Monday, 22 April 2013

Henna Tattoo

I sketched intricate calligraphy
carved unadulterated beauty
into her consciousness

Lust was palpable
My mark nothing more than fleeting imitation

it dried,
and through each passing day
its colour grew weaker
its trace more feeble
wilting as quickly as it blossomed
shone momentarily as fast as a shooting star
until it was a shadow of its past glory.

to be remembered as nothing more than a bittersweet memory

Until our mind martyrs lovers into
nostalgic day dreams, broadcast
onto the forefront of our every spare thought
assisted by hyperbolic embellishment

Until the lines of fantasy and reality blur,
With no tattoo left to remind us.

Monday, 11 February 2013

acquaintances are like pit stops on a journey,
while true friendship should be as rare as a purple sunset
As for the rest of humanity,
you make a traveller out of me.


It soothed my worries,
its drip providing me with a brief reprieve
All the stresses of the world flowed down my cheek
like tears of relief

The street stars shone, in a scintillating backdrop
I looked to my right, a shop sign read "imagination"
It was too surreal to be true, just in case it was
I staggered home slower to take it all in

eyes closed and neck arched
I insisted the heavens shower down more,
As my jeans grew heavier
I stood still, wishing the moment would too.

its swirling patterns were like a flock of birds
searching for warmer plains,
taking care in its landing
easing pain wherever it travels

This was not the normal, harsh pitter patter,
not concerned with hurting
not the kind the common man has disdain for
Just saintly, soundless drops of hope

That night I dreamt,
I wanted to rise like puddles under the sun
But the reflection scarred me
I wished to magnanimously watch the world in the clouds

it dawned on me,
man's erratic nature mirrors the skies misgivings,
acid rain eroded into the Earths crust
until I changed my core

I awoke knowing, my state and weather were one
the choices I made determined whether,
I sailed softly back home filled with love,
Or hit the ground fuelled with hatred.

"The Idea that moisture, which has risen from the ocean, resided in a cloud and then consolidated itself into a raindrop will return to the ocean, where it may lose itself completely to the immense waters.  This was most mystics hoped for: a return to the original unity.  To become one with the primordial sea."  

Monday, 4 February 2013

And life it is life
The sun will not always survive
The sky does not suffice
I tangled my embrace to some sky
Having clouds lost in their own cry

And moved by day
With all left in stagnant stay
The grounds smashed in break 
In beats still awake

And me? You know me
We all saw what we see
Lost in moments by the air
Shadows embrace me in their care
And in moments I was there

Iced in the silence of many words
That’s me
For now the fear will suffice
No thanks be to their sacrifice
Just for a gone remain
In a depth to scar or stain

Your words fall heavy and raise water
The water falls to its own slaughter
Let words fall and be gone

By Walaa Quisay

Tuesday, 22 January 2013

why do trees exist?

Laid bare like skeletons with non-existent closets,
bony structures of wood,

exposed, without cover
branches stretch over each other
shielding each other like lovers

their secrets scattered on empty streets,
yellow from exhaustion,
brown from exuberance,
all shades of truth on display

before they're whisked away by the wind
into other dimensions
because truth is the battery of the breeze

Leaving the tree to grow truth once again
Carry the burden once more,
and shed it all again