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My Mother Syria

My mother
she has been crying for
a long time now
weeping for her children
her children burning in flames

My mother is now shrieking
and screaming with pain
her skin being ripped off
her bones breaking
she’s crumbling, disintegrating.

My mother’s crying
her body tore apart,
she’s being raped openly
bombed, she’s in flames.

She;s being torn apart
The whole world is seeing her being
torn apart
and they’re all pretending to be blind
And she’s being torn apart
But yet the world pretends to be blind.

My mother’s tears have created their own ocean
And I the child, have found shelter
We’re safe in my mother’s tears
The world is too cruel
The world is deaf to our screams
The world is blind to our wounds
The world is dumb

My mother, my mother’s name is
Syria.

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Adrift

Swimming through the waters

Both deep and cold

Guided by the current

So swift and bold

Will I just drown on my own,

Or will I find a new home?

While the sea is bigger

Than the lake at hand

I can find new worlds here

Floating away from the sand

Can you find your way to me,

Or are you cast adrift at sea?

B. Alan Hart

 

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Him.

I want to taste
His honeyed brown skin
Get lost in the strong musk smell
Feel the gentle power that permeates
His manhood.
I want to envelop myself
In his masculinity,
His sexiness,
And his passion.
I want us to meet each other’s desires
In a primitive and heated way.
Losing all self-control
In our luscious lovemaking.
I want to hear him whisper sensual, desirable things
He wants to do to my body.
I want to taste his yearning in my mouth
Savoring every succulent flavor.

I want him.

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Moonlit Love

Th Moon captured by Samihah Pargas

Love me the way the moon is loved
whether full or half full, or a whisper in the night sky

the kind you can’t see, yet its presence is deeply felt. 

Th Moon captured by Samihah Pargas
Photo by Samihah Pargas


Love me
whether I
covet you with light or

struggle through my own darkness
show you how beautiful skin can look in dimly lit places or
dim the atmosphere and feel cold to the touch
Love me still
when my tears pull the sky down and

leave hollows in loving hearts where homes should’ve been
when stars fall from my lips while I ask for those homes to be rebuilt

again and
again Love me
as if I am faraway, when really I’m near.
Pull me close with your prayers when I am distant
hold me with your eyes
love me the way the moon is loved.
I hope you are in love with the moon.

– Samihah Pargas

IG : @shadesofherink

 

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I’m such a Pussy with love, but why?

Oh love! Love makes you feel warm and fuzzy one minute and the next you want to run away from it, well at least in my case. I’m pretty great at running away when love happens. Maybe it’s my generation and the fucked up ideology that the grass is greener on the DM side. Maybe it’s the fact I have daddy issues and fear of abandonment. Maybe I feel as though leaving them first we I won’t be left feeling stupid when they dump me. Whatever the case is, I’m tired of running.

I want to love, but how? How does the heart let go of the comfort of solitude when for so long its been mistreated. Time? Meditation? Closure? Or do I just go for it and find love? I had no clue, so I stopped looking.  I gave up on my mission and exactly when I did that love found me. What type of love do you ask? The love for myself.  Look, hear me out. In order to love proper you have to be right within. There is no way in hell that you can accept love and give love if you are not right within yourself. It took me a while to self heal from my past, from my abusers, from the lack of love from my father, and most importantly to heal from my fear of abandonment.  Honestly, I’m still healing and still struggling and that’s ok because now I know my truth.  The path to enlightenment starts with facing yourself and your fear. I no longer want to fear love.  Am I ok with the pain attached to love? Maybe, but if I don’t ever try I will never know.

I created this piece because the possibility of love and wild sex has found me and challenged me as of late. I’m excited, scared, and vulnerable. Even with all those emotions, I’m finally ready to let go of my fear.

I dedicate this post and artwork to my self-love and what that energy has brought to my life.

 

-ZaiOhmy

 

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your name is synonymous with music now

my days don’t feel quite right
if you don’t send me a song.
what else should i hear
while emptying my heart
of ghosts? my bones need
something that will burrow
deeply, and remind them that
home can be outside of this body.
and this body needs to remember
that men have died for the songs
of some women, so a moment of
shattering for you is a mere drop
in the oceans i have swallowed
while waiting for revolutions
that become my lullabies

(photo by Oladimeji Odunsi via unsplash)

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Nudity still disguised

 

 

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Breeze as an Afterthought

When Love Breezes on by.

Torrid breeze

need to sneeze

spring came around

allergy bound

stuffing noses, sensitive eyes

plucking petals makes me cry.

Within a sickly state

met a special someone on a date

we spent nights and days

in a wanton haze

blurry and hot

in loving thought.

We felt immortal, too great

to let the spark die, wait

so we carved our joy

happiness, tacit cloy

in our favourite bench

we spent days clenched

together

in spite of disgusting weather.

https://www.instagram.com/readingbread_/

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The Aftermath by Samihah Pargas

I often wondered if you were as sad as I was after you walked away. It pained me to say that perhaps you were not, and one day I had to let my hope dissipate. This is where I walk now, on the road taking me further away from you and any dreams I held onto. I stopped by the ocean for a while and tried to drop your name into the water, but I might as well have drowned myself because you were still inscribed all over me. Continue reading The Aftermath by Samihah Pargas