"I am The Desert, you cannot claim".

Not This Time


I have accepted defeat.
It can’t win me over,
this time.

I have accepted cruelty.
It can’t soothe me down,
this time.

I have accepted sorrow.
It can’t have reasons to sob at my door,
this time.

I have accepted insanity.
It can’t distinguish me from any imaginary state of normalcy,
this time.

I have accepted love.
It can’t be you,
this time.
It just can’t be you…
not this time.

I Jumped On Planes For You


I almost flew away today…
had no reason to stay.
Home: a place – with you – in it.
There was a time,
I jumped on planes for you!

I almost flew away today…
had no reason to stay.
Home: no longer – where you are – alive.
I searched,
but I could not find your spirit anywhere.
There was a time,
I jumped on planes for you!

I almost flew away today…
had no reason to stay.
Home: will – never be – “home” again.
Somewhere along the way,
you forgot to meet me halfway.
There was a time,
I jumped on planes for you!

You were always my reason to stay.
Oh I almost flew away today…
I almost jumped on a plane – mum – flying away from you!

‘In Recovery’


Life is a disease.
You and I,
we were born into it…
Spending our whole lives: ‘in recovery’.

Misery And Me

Have you ever danced with Misery?
I have.
I was sixteen,
and he had the moves,
unlike I had ever seen.
One dance was all it took,
for me to fall…
fall in love with Misery.

He poured his misery down on me,
and I married Misery.
We lived under a deep depression,
where he is kind to me.
whenever he wants to be.

We raised: Doom and Gloom,
our twins,
who moved far from home.
You make your bed with what you’ve got.
And I haven’t got much…
I just got Misery,
and he’s got me.
We got each other,
to keep us company.

Why do you look so miserable?
If Misery and I can make it,
why can’t you?
Cheer up.

What Good Am I?


Oh help me understand,
what it takes…
to be human?
There’s nothing – more foreign – in the world!

I wake up,
too wounded…
to get up!
from the neck down – a tiger – hunted in the night.

You die,
then you die some more.
I don’t see it…
Where’s the beauty: in birth and rebirth?
My spirit streams down,
a deadly river – in a hurry – for answers.

Have you never woken up,
from a dream…
starving for meaning?
What good am I,
a tiger – without stripes?
A tiger,
who dies!

Swallowed Enough


I swallowed – a barbed wire.
like a lump in my throat,
now it bleeds…
every time I speak your name.
This life – is violent.

I swallowed – a grenade.
like a weight in my belly,
now it weighs me down…
every time I give birth to my child.
This life – is silent.

I swallowed – a land-mine.
like an explosion in my chest,
now it implodes…
every time I breathe in mother.
This life – is strident.

My life – is resilient.
But I can’t Father,
I can’t swallow you down…
like acid – no more.

How Dare You

How Dare

How dare you speak to me of loss…
when you haven’t earned the heart – to feel – us.

How dare you speak to me of love…
when you haven’t invested the time – to nurture – us.

How dare you speak to me of truth…
when you haven’t safeguarded the honour – to defend – us.

How dare you speak…
How dare you speak – to me – at all!

Kissing Ulcers

Kiss me.
I have an ulcer,
in my mouth,
begging me…
to throw you out!
Kiss me,
one last time…
just kiss me goodbye.

Leave It Alone


this wound.
Oh leave it by its pain.
Leave it in the rain.
Leave it,
at the gate…
Leave it all alone!

It will never change.

Touch it,
You could die.

I Need A Moment


Oh please excuse me.
I have a tear,
in my eye,
that just won’t… won’t dry.

Raising Omelettes


My heart is a yolk – born – prematurely.
Growing up within the eggshells of your home,
together – we make a decent omelette!

Breakfast, anyone?

My World: A Crying Disaster

My World is a flute – out of tune!
Shelter us…
In the arms of Your Orchestra,
and you can hear us playing: a-crying-disaster!

Fix-Me-Up Real Good


“Please sir, can I be repaired?” I asked the nice man.
“Let’s take a look…” he said, holding-out his trusty-wrench.
“Will this hurt?” I asked him.
“No more than it already has,” he assured.
“Tell me, how long will this take?” I asked the kind sir.
“As long as it needs to, my lady,” he assured kindly.

“Will I be new again?” I asked him.
“As new as an old piece of clockwork, ma’am,” he assured.
“Oh I must have damaged time,” I told him.
“No more than time has damaged you, miss,” he replied.

“You are quite the charmer…” I told him.
“But you wouldn’t lie to me now, would you?”
I asked.
“No, ma’am, I fix you up real good,” he assured.
“Well, all right then, let’s get this ol’ gal back on the rail,” I told him.
“Yes, ma’am, you’ll be ‘choo-choo-ing’ in no time, you’ll see,” he assured.

“Do you know how to play ’round with that thing?”
I asked the real nice man with the wrench.
“Yes, ma’am, I screw around with it real good,”
the man with the wrench assured.
“Charming…” I told him.
“Fix-me-up real good then,”
I replied.

Violently Loving


I trigger,
and you – go off – like a gun,
in the night.

You fire,
and I – die – in the calibre of your arms,
in our dreams.

We lay in our bedroom,
in between – fragments – of joy and disaster,
after tearing each other asunder.
Tell me…
Have our hearts,
always been this – violently – loving?

The Wind People


“Go home,” I hear them say.
I hear them say: “Go home, child, go home.”
Oh where is home?
Is home with that – blind – immigration officer,
who cannot – identify – me anymore?

My body is, like, the worn-out pages of an old passport:
I am – defined – by the amount of stamps I wear (but do not own).
I feel more (confined) than I am free.
I do not understand why nations go to – war – everyday.
How people… people can just become – homeless – to the scattering wind!

You pretty much stop picking at this wound…
It still remains, exhaling toxic-sulphur, like an active-volcano.
Somehow, you have grown so used to the god-awful smell,
of your own stench, that…
nothing, and no one, smells foul to you anymore!
Except… perhaps… maybe… the very scent of “hope” in the air?
“It” lingers in the air!
“It” lingers in the wind!
There is no escaping “hope”.

“Go home,” I hear them say.
Aren’t we all… scattering,
to do,
just that?

Living Room Vultures


You find friends – in the vultures,
who have caused me harm…
in one form, or the other,
and, still, reserve the right to call yourself a Sister?
I don’t think so.
I refuse to believe, any Sister of mine, could…
look them straight in the eye, and invite them, to our home.
I could never do that to you.

You are friends – with the vultures,
who once circled around me…
for an easy-kill, or a quick-fill,
and, still, have the audacity to defend your friends in front of me?
I don’t think so.
I refuse to believe, any Sister of mine, would…
look them straight in the eye, and invite them, to our home.
I would never do that to you.

And yet – here – the hungry vultures are…
Claiming territory – right in the heart – of my living room!
You have vultures in your-inner-circle, Sister!
What does that say about you, I wonder?

The “Y”, The You, The Yard?


So, then,
willing to go “the yard” for me?
But why waste time…
playing “the backyard” with me,
when you already know…
I am “the front-porch” you can never sit on?



“I can read you,” he boasts aloud.
So, I tear-open my chest,
the seismogram of my beating heart!
I tell him quietly: “…Read me then, and read me well.”

“You Lie,” he attacks!
Grasping onto the torn-out records,
the seismic-waves of my life,
I defend: “My Truth!”

See, you raised me well,
to live day-to-day by The Richter Scale!
I have ownership over my-every-disaster:
from my-every-heart-ache to my-every-earth-quake,
from all-my-tsunamis to all-my-after-shocks.
I learned quickly,
how to s-h-a-t-t-e-r,
and how to shatter so well in your name!



to the rare sight of:
imploding into the night.

all over creation…
by morning light.

never told me:
flirting with strange-stars…
sets my heart alight!

I Am What I Am


I cannot be someone I am not.
I am me, I am “Sahara”.
I am nothing more, I am nothing less.
I am, what I am.
I am:
…the ruler of merciless-desert-lands.
…the bearer of plentiful-oases.
…the enduring-camels journeying far and wide.
…the weary-villages scattering for an abode.
…the singing-dunes resonating in the wind.
…the kingdom of sandstorms waging solo-wars.
…the ancient collection of stories-untold.
…the witness to the starry-heavens above.

I cannot be someone I am not.
I am me, I am “Sahara”.
I am cruel, I am kind.
I am more, than, you know I am.
I am:
…the devourer of bones-unclaimed.
…the lover behind every shadow tattooed across the hip of every dune.
…the keeper of buried-secrets lost in the sands of time.
…the seeker of the streaming-waters-undiscovered.
…the harshness during the day.
…the gentleness of the night.
…the conquerer of greatness in this body of vastness.
…the very will to survive.

I cannot be someone I am not.
I am me, I am “Sahara”.
I am the mirage in your heart…
for I am the one thing in the world, you have no claim over.

Two Sides To A Magnet

Mother and I are…
and negative,
sides to a magnet.
Hovering over each other’s boundaries,
we float by, bouncing-off each other’s grids.
We won’t fit. We just won’t fit.

And, it is not because of any lack of trying…
We are, simply, who we are.
Toss us in the air…
she is the head,
and I am the tail,
of two very different, different coins.
Aren’t we allowed to belong to two different nations?
The Laws acceptable in mine,
will always be taboo in hers.

This is the nature of our relationship.
Our stories do not include each other…
she holds onto her map,
and I hold onto my compass,
paving our journeys – separately – like our hearts,
that just would not attract each other…
like the two very different poles to a magnet.
Hovering over each other’s lives,
we float by, bouncing-off each other’s expectations.
We won’t fit. We just won’t fit.

Worth The Fight

Loving you is, like, going to war.
I never return the same.
And, if same is, what, I yearned for…
I would have never stayed, this long, longing…
For someone, someone like you…
You, who – disarms me – on sight.
You, who knows the autobiography – behind my every wound – by heart.
Loving you is, like, going to war.
At least now, I have a war – worth – fighting for.



I fight.
I retreat.
But I never ever surrender!
What does it take for you to love me?
I am a One-Woman-Army.

The Greatest Gift

Golden Compass

The irony of finding my greatest gift,
through my greatest loss…
This is my greatest truth:
“You are,
and will remain,

my greatest gift of all!”

Lose Sight

Greta Garbo
When he looks at me,
I lose myself…
to his gaze.
“Quit looking at me that way,” I hear myself say.

he does not stop.

He stares at me,
as though…
he does not see me.
“Well, I am here,” I assure myself.

am I?

He fixes his glare at me,
as if…
he does not know me.
I lose sight,
and focus on the particles of dust floating in the air,
so terribly tiny…
“Am I just a speck of dust to you,” I ask myself.

he turns away.

And that’s when,
that’s when I find myself…
in his sure absence!



we may feel terribly tired today.
But tomorrow…
tomorrow we shall tower like the trees!
Standing tall…
like the truly terrific Letter “T”:
that triumphs-over the troubles and the turmoil,
the tragedy, and the trials, of trying times!


Put your heart and soul in.
Wear your heart and soul out.
The World shakes your heart and soul all about.
Do the hokey pokey,
then you turn-yourself-around…
That’s what life’s all about!



Raised by a Non-verbal World,
is there a single word left for me to utter?
Bleed – honey – slip that blade in the marmalade.
Shave off your tongue – hush now – just shave that tongue off!

Raised in the hands of War-zone Daddies,
is there an ounce of peace left for my weary soul?
Forge – soldier – forge that sword in the fiery pits of your being.
Butch your wings – hush now – just butch those wings!

Raised in the Motherland of Refugees,
is there anywhere in the world left for me to belong?
Run – baby – run into the welcoming hands of land-mines.
Bury your precious limbs – hush now – just bury them, precious!
Good boys…
Good girls…
Bury them precious!
Bury them precious!

Lure-me-in Language

When she speaks to me,
she speaks to me in a language…
I don’t want to hear.

She thinks she can lure me in,
lure me straight into the lion’s den,
through her master-trickery of language,
with the twisted notion, that, I could in fact,
in-between her selected-sentences and closed-paragraphs!
Has no one ever told her,
“home” is not a verb…
you can pick right out of a dictionary?

She disarms me,
slowly, but surely,
as she pierce her pointed-dagger of accusations right through me.
She thinks just because the words are readily available in a book,
she can take them prisoners at will,
abuse, and manipulate them,
into self-serving innuendos and undertones,
that morphs into beastly-remarks…
whispered from the tips of her brutal-tongue!
Has no one ever told her,
words are anything but…


Anna Karina

“You’re struggling,” he said to me.
“I was born to struggle,” I reply.
In every life,
there is struggle.

“Why struggle?” he asked me.
“Why not?” I reply.
Does the candle know,
whilst flickering, whilst struggling in the wind,
that it might not live to see the light of day?
But it flickers on anyway.

“There are other ways to live,” he said to me.
“I struggle, not because I don’t have a choice,” I reply.
The choice is ours: easy or tough,
how we prefer to live our lives.
I may struggle today,
I may even struggle tomorrow, and the days ahead,
but to be in “total-control” of my struggles…
makes all the difference in the world!

Justify The Loss


Without Frida Kahlo, not even Diego Rivera,
can justify the loss…

Without Ceyx, not even Alcyone,
can justify the loss…

Without Eurydice, not even Orpheus,
can justify the loss…

Without Shams Tabrizi, not even Rumi,
can justify the loss…

Without Grand Momma, not even Grand Daddy,
can justify the loss…

Without you, not even I,
can justify the loss…

Even War Needs A Mother

Mother gave birth to War.
War slept,
cradled… in her arms.
War danced,
graceful… under her watch.
War flourished,
thankful… under her roof.
War strayed,
neglected… from her home.

Mother gave birth to War.
The War… The World will soon come to know.

Mother gave birth to War.
Even War… needs a Mother.

Bloody Letters

I received your letters today:
wrapped in all your love – stamped in flesh and blood.
Yes, oh yes… I received your bloody letters today!


Down, Alice!
Oh, down the aching rabbit hole once again!



Do not look at me while I sleep.
Do not touch me where I lay.
Do not mourn and wail in my name.
From dust we come, to dust we become.
My lifeless soul is mine, and mine alone, to spread:
“Earth to earth,
ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
To Mister and Mrs. God(s),
I return my lifeless soul”.



Anger, subside.
Take a good look around you, O’ Mighty King.
What do you see?
Do you see what I see?
Our Kingdom lie in ruins…
And your once noble heart – a vast dune!

Anger, subside.
While you seize the world you think you have the right to claim,
and call it a world of your very own…
Decades fall into a deep slumber,
without a Queen to reclaim your rightful throne!

Anger, subside.
Lay down your foolish pride,
put it, just put it aside.


Together are we born,
born only to storm,
as we tango – from dusk till dawn!
Tearing our roots from carefully-tucked-in-beds,
late into the hands of the night – we venture out!
Two famished bloodlines howling from our hearts:
“Alas we are sisters – free at last!”

We throttle the vengeful seas,
passing endless shores – in search of our very own oars!
We, Sirens, allure the hearts of sailors.
What have we done?
Tell me, who have we become?

Oh, spirits of lightning and thunder!
Hear our fractured vows!
Like two unloved rainclouds,
we drench over vast merciless desert lands now,
only to lay adrift thirsty for something more,
something more than who we already are!

We waltz in, and we waltz out,
like two hurricanes declaring war!
Powered by a commanding will:
a will to not only die as we live…
but to come alive and to survive!
Together are we born,
and together must we die,
only to be reborn together…
My Sister and I.

The Milky Way

If life was a cow,
I’d milk it everyday.

I’d spread the milk,
to every orphan,
scattered in every continent.

If life was a cow,
I’d milk it everyday.

I’d spread the milk,
to all the children of the Earth,
belonging to the Milky Way.



I am water!

you can’t have me.
You can’t have me – to relinquish – your burning soul!

tell me…
How does it feel – to be all dried-up – for my oasis?

tell me…
Who – who is the thirsty desert creature – now?

Sinking Thoughts

All my precious little secrets, mother…
Oh watch them swirl…
Down… your dirty little kitchen sink!


Sahara - 2

“Sahara” – is my name.
I am The Desert, you cannot claim.


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