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Monday, 16 January 2012

I want to make 'It'

I perspire, you perspire. To fulfil
the desire to leave a lasting legacy,
so when we leave this earth we appreciate the energy
input, the inner initiative to inspire

But don't sweat it, I do this to hear the choir
singing my praises
to observe the wanton gazes
and to know it's me who they want.

finally
fool stop.

a chance to breathe. 
constantly under siege
by the outer, pressured
to prove the doubter
wrong.

You do what you do for you.
& none of the above.
except for the one.  You must find and love.


we want to make it,
'it' is not seen or known
not even set in stone,
not naturally produced or grown,

What did we want before 'it' existed?

Thursday, 5 January 2012

Lost for Thoughts

Lost for Thoughts

Tributaries of emotion flowing to a river of words
Dam, blocked by the sweetened poison,
perceived to be 'pure,'
adulterated honey.

Cheating on your self.

False is crystallized into imagined ideas
So
I
am
Lost for thoughts

Vanity pervades every nostril
it's lingering stench
it's sickening hollow smell
every mirror used to admire my superfluous wings

I forgot why the cage bird sings
But I do know it looks beautiful
or so I've been told by the pseudo sage.


Rage, pungent & rampant
flowing through our veins
blood-boiling
lava-exploding
fault-exposing.
But the blind man see's better than the angry man.


curious, envious enigmas
Are Our insignias.

boxes reprimand unearthliness
thinking outside is suicide
social. networking is the world

the art of dis-course is tarnished
still, varnish is nailed onto the disquisition
so a shining gleam is sown, and its seeds
crave position...

The chosen-one syndrome
an ailment so vile, a fake smile
is a common self-sacrifice
to get far.
But to where?


The fog of pride disguised by humility
humanity died, is the cannibalistic dog culpable.


Rhetoric is the language of the modern man
so I will make like the proverbial oracle
and ask myself.

When we think,
are we truly expressing ourselves
Or the desires of our self?

Have we made our mind up?
If I think the reasons for my thinking
the process has me blinking.

Lost for thoughts.  Nothing more to think.

Dear Mother Britain - The Film!

 Watch the film Words Apart made over the summer: Dear Mother Britain, 12 young people (poets and free-runners) from Barnet, Camden & Haringey discuss what being British means!

http://vimeo.com/32940007

Monday, 14 November 2011

The Unseen Eye

*Put on blindfold*

The last thing I saw before perpetual night. 

Was a lions figure in the clouds sketched into light,
So I guess a found the truth in time.

When it hit me... 

As black does.. 
Everything became smaller.  
Everything lost its order, 
my eyes began to turn to face & brain, 
and now I was a spectator watching the other senses game.

As my seeing stopped.

My hearing could pick up every decibel of a pin drop.


As I lost sight of my tears. 
My nose learnt how to smell fear. 


As my vision forgot how it behaves, 
I begun feeling the folds within waves. 


When I turned blind.
With no relation to anything metaphoric I was able to taste bitterness.
and for the first time in a long time, 

I told the time without seeing it.

Truth be told. Time was saved. 

I did not have to close my eyes to think any more, Nor did I need to close my eyes to focus.
and you may not know this, 
but I've been told that once your inner eye has seen your inner self, 
you find peace within.

So now I will hide away. 

Basque in the glory of my ones with self. I will eventually accept, 
and grow to reverence my lack of physical sight. 
With time. 


In my blindness I will learn to rejoice,
Even if it was by force and not by choice.



By Sophia Thakur 
Follow on Twitter: @SoundWordsmith

Saturday, 12 November 2011

Life-Span of a Shadow (edited)

I'd like to Marvel at what  the street-lights see
The comical outlines of it's shadows,
Tripping & slipping into street-fights
Street-Nights are profound..



We are
Bound by a two dimensional shape
Walking with us without a sound,
But thoughts drown it so it turns to
Darkness.



The clouds hang on us like a bad smell
euro-centric attitudes & ego-centric dudes
keep us in cyclical delusion 
 spiteful smiles caress our mind into a false abyss 
Forever Lost in a definition of bliss
The proof, is in your shadow..

When the sun rises, death capsized the soul of the shadow until another night
Orange lights give off the sense of fore-shadowing..
As the author of life scripts our existence

show resistance & we face a painful truth


Tragic shadows paint the picture of pain, flashing turquoise off the wall, blinding sight & the ability to hear,
We'd be lying to ourselves if we said, we had no fear.

Some will say they're Simply shaky imitations, but then what are we?
Concrete validations
filling the spiritual voids in our soul
With dark, black holes,
Wandering aimlessly with us..
But with careful reflection
We won't slip into nothingness

Ever pondered the Life-Span of a Shadow?
Simplistic minds attribute it to light reflecting off an object
inquisitive minds however, abject..
Perhaps they've seen, the consequences..
When man chooses not to reflect..

Tuesday, 18 October 2011

Words Apart Film Competition

And we have a winner for the Words Apart Film Competition

Zainab Ibrahim 18
from Newport, south wales


she guessed:
"Your poem is about the mouth speakin truth or gossiping or lies, I think."



Which is close enough, it was "words"

Here Is Zaynab's poem:

An illness, gnawing away at my temple.
Everyday I'm becoming the monster I resemble.
Gut-wrenching affliction at the realisation of my action.
Why do I return to the path of deadly poison?

Disease-like, yet graver and much worse.
A daily tornado of torment and curse.

And soon I shall face the wrath of my consequences.
When will a young hopeless soul come to his senses?
Day after day a battle he is losing.
Is it the path of the damned or the noble he'll be choosing?



Can Anyone guess what it is?



Tuesday, 11 October 2011

The Life-Span of a Shadow

I'd like to Marvel at what  the street-lights see
The comical outlines of it's shadows,
Tripping & slipping into street-fights
Street-Nights are profound..
stories told, age old tales spoken in the peak of winter's cold

walls embrace the moving animations of the past 


Forever Lost in ignorance, lost in a definition of bliss
As Rat races commence in the gutter of life.
When the sun rises, death capsized the soul of the shadow until another night
Orange lights give off the sense of fore-shadowing.


Tragic shadows paint the picture of pain, 

flashing turquoise off the wall, blinding sight & the ability to hear,
We'd be lying to ourselves if we said, we had no fear.

Some will say they're Simply shaky imitations, but then what are we?
Concrete validations
filling the spiritual voids in our soul
With dark, black holes,
Wandering aimlessly with us..




Obstructing the light from entering our hearts
and we're left with dark silhouettes who follow are every move... 
simply opaque objects orienteering ourselves into an obsolete existence.. 


There is a luminous hope peering through the crevices 
of our souls, 
careful reflection cultivates it into a glowing transparency,
The shadows nemesis.
and in to beautiful struggle or a resolute resistance.


Ever pondered the Life-Span of a Shadow?
Simplistic minds attribute it to light reflecting off an object
inquisitive minds however, abject..
Perhaps they've seen, the consequences..
When man chooses not to reflect..



by Mohamed-Zain Dada