Phenomenal Woman

You may write me down in history

With your bitter, twisted lies,

You may tread me in the very dirt

But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you? 

Why are you beset with gloom? 

Cause I walk like I've got oil wells

Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,

With the certainty of tides,

Just like hopes springing high,

Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken? 

Bowed head and lowered eyes? 

Shoulders falling down like teardrops.

Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you? 

Don't you take it awful hard

Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines

Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,

You may cut me with your eyes,

You may kill me with your hatefulness,

But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you? 

Does it come as a surprise

That I dance like I've got diamonds

At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history’s shame

I rise

Up from a past that's rooted in pain

I rise

I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,

Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear

I rise

Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear

I rise

Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,

I am the dream and the hope of the slave.

I rise

I rise

I rise.

- Maya Angelou (April 4, 1928 - May 28, 2014)

Invictus: Tribute to Mandela

The comic is a tribute to Nelson Mandela and it's his favorite poem by William Ernest Henley, called Invictus. So, about the comic, the photograph he's looking at is of himself with his eldest son, Madiba Thembekile, who's killed in a car crash. Mandela wasn't allowed to attend the funeral or even find out information about the accident. Over the years, because of the way Mandela carried himself, he gained respect and friendship of some of his guards. Not only did Mandela endure 27 years of imprisonment with dignity, determination and strength, but he also chose to forgive the people who wronged him. That, in my opinion, is his most impressive accomplishment. RIP Nelson Mandela.

Sciences Sing a Lullaby

Physics says: go to sleep. Of course you're tired. Every atom in you has been dancing the shimmy in silver shoes nonstop from mitosis to now. Quit tapping your feet. They'll dance inside themselves without you. Go to sleep.

Geology says: it will be all right. Slowly inch by inch your country is giving itself to the ocean. Go to sleep. Let darkness lap at your sides. Give darkness an inch. You aren't alone. All of the continents used to be one body. You aren't alone. Go to sleep.

Astronomy says: the sun will rise tomorrow.

Zoology says: on rainbow-fish and lithe gazelle.

Psychology says: but first it has to be night, so..

Biology says: the body-clocks are stopped all over town and..

History says: here are the blankets, layer on layer, down and down.

- Albert Goldbarth

Roses are Red, Violets are Blue

Roses are red, violets are blue,

sugar is sweet, and perhaps so are you.

But the roses are wilted, the violets are dead,

the sugar bowl's empty, your wrists are stained red.

The sun isn't shining, the sky isn't clear;

there's no silver lining cause you're no longer here.

Rain keeps on pouring, there's no end in sight,

you're laying there frozen, so far from the light.

Your beauty's unreal, your smile the sun,

but times can’t be turned or your actions undone.

The words that you wrote, that only I read

"I love you so much; please don't cry when I'm dead".

A bond that we formed, a love that ran deep,

the pain that we shared, a friend I could keep.

I wanted to hold you, wrap the tears from your eyes;

been there the moment you had said goodbye.

I want to forget, but most times I don't,

I want to let go, but I know that I wont.

Tears on my face, memories burned in my head.

The roses are wilted, the violets are dead.

p.s: I don't remember where did I get this poem from. I love how they rhyme.

What Teachers Make

Always my Last

Thoughts

Dawn turns to day,

as stars are dispersed;

wherever I lay,

I think of you first.

The sun has arisen,

the sky, a sad blue.

I quietly listen -

the wind sings of you.

The thoughts we each keep,

that are closest to heart,

we think as we sleep -

and you're always my last.

Lang Leav

p.s: Cory Monteith is dead. I long for Finn Hudson. Glee without him is unimaginable and unbearable. I'm in the mourning.

Love and Misadventure

Her Words

Love a girl who writes,
and live her many lives;
you have yet to find her,
beneath her words of guise.

Kiss her blue inked fingers,
forgive the pens they marked.
The stain of your lips upon her-
the one she can't discard.

Forget her tattered memories,
or the pages other took;
you are her ever after-
the hero of her book.

- Lang Leav

The poem above is taken from Love and Misadventure, a book of poems beautifully and solely written by Lang Leav. I really adore her enchanting works that swing between the whimsical and woeful, expressing a complexity beneath the child-like facade. She's my idol and inspiration. Her imagination stretches across a variety of disciplines encompassing art, poetry and books. And the book, Love and Misadventure, is all I've ever wanted. Unfortunately I haven't seen it in any bookstores yet. I hope it'll come here faster and be mine. 

p.s: I'll post Lang Leav's pieces on every Saturday. :)

To Love

To love at all is to be vulnerable. 

Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. 

If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. 

Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. 

Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. 

But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. 

It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. 

To love is to be vulnerable. 

C.S. Lewis

I Carry Your Heart with Me

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

- E.E. Cummings

I Loved You Enough

I loved you enough to ask where you were going,
with whom, and what time you would be home.
I loved you enough to be silent and let you
discover that your new best friend was a creep.
I loved you enough to stand over you for
2 hours while you cleaned your room,
a job that should have taken 15 minutes.
I loved you enough to let you see anger,
disappointment, and tears in my eyes.
I loved you enough to let you assume the
responsibility for your actions even when the
penalties were so harsh they almost broke my heart.
But most of all, I loved you enough to say
NO when I knew you would hate me for it.

I found the poem somewhere on tumblr. And someday I might give it to my future children. Because I want them to love me the way I love my mum. 

my lovely mum

Once upon a time, mum insisted on knowing where we were at all times. She had to know who our friends were and what we were doing with them. She insisted that if we said we would be gone for an hour, we would be gone for an hour or less. We had to wash the dishes, make the beds, learn to cook, vacuum the floor, do laundry, empty the trash and all sorts of chores. She always insisted on us telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. By the time we were teenagers, she could read our minds and had eyes in the back of her head. Mum didn't let our friends just hoot at the gate when they drove up. They had to come up to the door so she could meet them. 

Now that most of us have left home, got education and jobs..my siblings and I are really grateful for having our mom. She's our 1st teacher and the best one. Without her, we wouldn't know how to deal with things now. So we have planned a special celebration for her tomorrow. I hope she'll love it. ^^

mum at work ^^

Every Little Bit of You

These are my hands
small as they may be.
But
I promise to never
let anything harm
you, or anyone
take your happiness
away from you.
I promise to always
be your person,
someone you
can run to for whatever
reason it may be:
a shoulder to cry on,
arms to run to,
a hand to hold.
I promise to never
judge you or dictate
what’s right or wrong.
I promise to always
love every inch,
every ounce,
every little bit of you.



p.s: I dedicate this to all my friends who's getting engaged and married this year. :)

The Road not Taken

Do you still remember a poem by Robert Frost that we learned in English class at school? It's called The Road Not Taken. Does it ring a bell? Of course. It's a nice poem, emphasizing the importance of the choices made throughout our lives and the consequences of them. You see, we can't run from choices or making wrong choices and the vulnerability of living on a choice made that can't be changed. When we accept a choice, means we decline another choice. While taking every path, there's another path we don't take. And we'll always wonder about the outcome of the roads that we didn't try.

Previously I found an infographic about this poem at my friend's blog, Rungitom Life. It's cool and inspiring. ^^ Check it out: 

To Gaza with Love

A Poem for Gaza

by Remi Kanazi

I never knew death until I saw the bombing of a refugee camp

Craters filled with disfigured ankles and splattered torsos

But no sign of a face, the only impression a fading scream

I never understood pain

Until a 7-year-old girl clutched my hand

Stared up at me with soft brown eyes, waiting for answers

But I didn’t have any

I had muted breath and dry pens in my back pocket

That couldn’t fill pages of understanding or resolution

In her other hand she held the key to her grandmother’s house

But I couldn’t unlock the cell that caged her older brothers

They said, we slingshot dreams so the other side will feel our father’s presence

A craftsman

Built homes in areas where no one was building

And when he fell, he was silent

A .50 caliber bullet tore through his neck shredding his vocal cords

Too close to the wall

His hammer must have been a weapon

He must have been a weapon

Encroaching on settlement hills and demographics

So his daughter studies mathematics

7 explosions times 8 bodies

Equals 4 Congressional resolutions

7 Apache helicopters times 8 Palestinian villages

Equals silence and a second Nakba

Our birthrate minus their birthrate

Equals 1 sea and 400 villages re-erected

1 state plus 2 peoples…and she can’t stop crying

Never knew revolution or the proper equation

Tears at the paper with her fingertips

Searching for answers

But only has teachers

Looks up to the sky and see stars of David demolishing squalor with hellfire missiles

She thinks back words and memories of his last hug before he turned and fell

Now she pumps dirty water from wells, while settlements divide and conquer

And her father’s killer sits beachfront with European vernacular

She thinks back words, while they think backwards

Of obscene notions and indigenous confusion

This our land, she said

She’s 7 years old

This our land, she said

And she doesn’t need a history book or a schoolroom teacher

She has these walls, this sky, her refugee camp

She doesn’t know the proper equation

But she sees my dry pens

No longer waiting for my answers

Just holding her grandmother’s key

Searching for ink

Oh Allah, free the Muslims of Gaza, loose their chains, heal their sickness, uncover their torture, and replace their fear with safety. Oh Allah, save them..

Ameen....

Sentiments of Insecurity

I feel safe here. 

I feel safe in all our insecurity. 

I’m wrapped inside them. 

I hope that’s okay. 

All our fears and complications, they like each other. 

They fit perfectly into each other’s molds. 

And it feels lovely to have something slip into place without having to think. 

Our troubles, the loves that thrive for understanding. 

They’re hurt, torn and covered in unseen bruisers. 

There's so much they need to say..so let’s sit down and let them talk. 

Let’s give them a day or two to feel safe. 

Let’s allow them time to feel safe in each other’s insecurities. 

Would you like that?

I'm really afraid. 

These indescribably perfect events, they don’t happen to me. 

I’m scared my insecurities won’t let you in. 

I'm scared they will scare you. 

Beyond everything, above everything, 

I'm terrified you might run away. 

Please don’t run away without me because you’re perfect to me. 

In every sense of the word, I’m going to hold on tight.

You and I. Yours and mine. 

Let's stay and be insecure together.

P.S: This has nothing to do with me or anyone. It's just nonchalantly written. I love you. :)