Featured Poem:
Blocked Culture
Enlarge poem
Featured Poem:
Blocked Culture
Why do we stop?
Why is everything just too much?
Are we stuck?
Trapped in closed communities, scared to step out of the gates? Breeding inwards, Yes, I’m Indian, a born Muslim, but what does that really mean?
In this newly found Arabian oil terrorist ground, women start to cover up, sheeted from head to toe, it’s becoming the newest fashion show, to defend your roots and ancestry and do you know what’s really funny, is that this trend comes right back down to me, when we tease and joke that my cousin, three names long, that’s Ziyaad Mohomed Adam, will be turned away by customs officials, he might have a bomb!
He fits the terrorist description you see.
This Muslim guy is discriminated against due to his/my family.
I’m tired of losing my identity!
But I feel like Achilles, weakness resides in my lower heels, my knees just can’t bend, have to move to grow to change, to lift my face, to the rays again, to reclaim again and breathe.
My body freezes in the breeze that moves only the trees.
I’m tired of all the words circling and circling.
How do we let go?
Into more, into love, why don’t we slip in, dive in, allow it to consume us?
How can we deny this?
The thought lives and we talk and we talk and we talk, but when will we walk?
I’m ready to fly.
Let the talking die, let the talking die, let the talking die
Why do we stop?
Why is everything just too much?
Are we stuck?
Trapped in closed communities, scared to step out of the gates? Breeding inwards, Yes, I’m Indian, a born Muslim, but what does that really mean?
In this newly found Arabian oil terrorist ground, women start to cover up, sheeted from head to toe, it’s becoming the newest fashion show, to defend your roots and ancestry and do you know what’s really funny, is that this trend comes right back down to me, when we tease and joke that my cousin, three names long, that’s Ziyaad Mohomed Adam, will be turned away by customs officials, he might have a bomb!
He fits the terrorist description you see.
This Muslim guy is discriminated against due to his/my family.
I’m tired of losing my identity!
But I feel like Achilles, weakness resides in my lower heels, my knees just can’t bend, have to move to grow to change, to lift my face, to the rays again, to reclaim again and breathe.
My body freezes in the breeze that moves only the trees.
I’m tired of all the words circling and circling.
How do we let go?
Into more, into love, why don’t we slip in, dive in, allow it to consume us?
How can we deny this?
The thought lives and we talk and we talk and we talk, but when will we walk?
I’m ready to fly.
Let the talking die, let the talking die, let the talking die
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Thank you for inspiring words!
A beautiful poem. i love her smooth delivery
I love the style of your writing…
A beautiful poem.
lovely