I am tired! It's chronic ah, I am starting to dislike that word “chronic” but it is also the only word that can summon up my health issues. Chronically ill, as a never-ending always an ongoing thing. Ish... Why can't I be chronically cute? Hehe, I mean come on... My life is, ~ make through …
Rullestol poesi
Rullestolen min drar frem ulike frå i mennesker... jeg ser godhet og sørger for å takke en gang for mye enn for lite... Jeg ser også det mindre fine... Drum roll, please: Kanskje han så meg ikke, kanskje blå hijab kamuflasja meg med ski fri himmel... eller var tanken på å dra vekten av mine …
Liberty
I don't want to be famous I want to live blameless... To decide who I am and harm no one. Not a living thing... Ah, I hear the naivety... If you dare have an opinion just by taking a stand you hurt someone's vision. So I guess we have to hurt some folks by finding …
Haha I’m a poet
I write poetry in a borrowed tongue, I would make it rhyme if it were my mother's tongue... But in every language, I fall short of words to grasp the essence... So I write it simply by the lack of educated languages in me... Ya, dig? Yeah, it's slang from a country I've never been …
Quiet, please
Hush the noise, like a sponge, suck up all that boils hot or cold turmoil in it goes... For it, it's a taste of heaven outcomes a spit from the serpent... Repent repent words fall at the feet of sinners in a doorless tent... Refuge camps get in line with stolen food stamps... Pfft, a …
Don’t people outgrow shitty behaviors?
An elder man was getting out of a parking spot, he waved his hand to suggest we move aside, being raised Somali means respect your elders so, we did as he asked. All though, he had plenty of space to move his car around. As we sat in my sister's car we both smiled at …
Fragile untameable
whenever I tried to get closer to God, an unseen chain of my brokenness brings to light to reveal just how broken and weak parts of me are. And if I'm not careful, a hyena may smell my woundedness and unfortunately, a hyena digging his teeth into my flesh felt home. Tales of body-grown little …
When impulses play
The unteachable
One would think you are choking on rocks should you say “I. am. sorry ” I wonder what brawls inside your head, do you think you will misplace your honor and downsize in grace if you apologize when you catch yourself wrong?! Even worse when you must admit to a lack of knowledge in a …
convosfromwithin 