i read the wind. the words color me in shades of scented gardenias. the words take to the clouds, and write their sex song. i am churned by the scent of ecstasy. my yoni rises to meet you in between the rough sentences. words come. they come, and come. the wind writes its stories on […]
the moon waits for me. i become the terpsichorean, naked, fragile, unclothed in darkness. my hips are my cauldron. i stir. i stir for the babies not yet conceived. i stir for love and longing. i stir for survival. i wait for the moon. and it waits for me. i stir.
The poem below by Frost is the life I’ve always lived, the road less traveled. It keeps me sane, even as it sometimes leaves me lonely in this world. Most times, lonely in a room filled with people. The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I […]
I won’t be saved by you. Only the sky can save me from this blue world wondering how it came to be.
I read this piece by Yeats recently and it struck a cord. The Lake Isle of Innisfree W. B. Yeats, 1865 – 1939 I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree, And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made: Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee; […]
The days meld into each other. Each one a link in a chain. The chain slowly reaching into the distance. This is our lives, each day a link creating a chain spanning miles of existence.
I walk the dusty road of false time, seeking angels with broken wings. Only they know my sorrow and how unforgiving the gods can be. I don’t need their lives vicariously, my window is the same, yet I have no wings. I see through the dirt and grime that only rain can wash away, sometimes. […]
phallic symbols tiptoe through mind intimate portraits of ebony gods standing on thoughts naked on my embryo filled stomach kissing me licking me stroking me mountains of desire entering my valley of ecstasy lifting me mounting me arching my back in need of more come into me and leave the memory of your DNA absorbing […]
Photograph by zaji, April 19, 2016 the park benches wait for children. lonely and longing for the weekend fraught with giggles and bruised knees, they wait for light and dark to revolution less than six times. that is all it will take to bring the children. sneakered and bare feet trampling the sand. the benches […]
in time we all forget. we sink into darkness. heartbeats can’t find their way back home. the notes are out of tune; i know this dance. it ends. © zaji, 2016 Like this:Like Loading…
Undulating within dark words reaching for dying stars. Nubian night finds us inventing stories of our beginnings. Ichor is there for drink, if you want, if you dare. Venus is just up ahead, a little to the left and on ’til dusk. Endings exist at the edge of a dark multiverse. Remember your beginnings so […]
Death Haiku the last exhale leaves. oblivion comes too quick. will darkness find light?
Haiku for Water liquid love fills seas my womb hosts life in oceans in birth, swim towards light
Below are pictures I took of a Night-Blooming Cereus my mother has in a giant pot by the pool. All day the buds stay tightly closed, unmoved by the sun. As the sky turns gray, yellow, then red, the bud begins to slowly move, yawning to welcome the night. No sooner than the stars begin…
Haiku for Earth Earth once talked to sky Sky then whispered to the wind The wind cried rivers
Writing Prompt: Suitcase Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt. galaxy luggage found travel stickers across the milky way. my suitcase has seen Jupiter and Saturn. winged feet prefer clouds doubling as stones to take me across stars flowing like waters. i skip across clouds white and emptiness. planet hopping is free.…
There is fire in the caves. Defiant flames stretch across indocile walls. The cold stones can bear the relentless heat. But can they bear the stories? There is fire in the caves. Fire burned alien symbols into cave ceilings. Their meaning has long been forgotten. We are not alone. There is fire in the caves. […]
Orange peel tea drinks me instead. It tastes my waters, then pours into me without bitterness. Remember wasted life. The water is unclear, it is orange oceans flowing back to shore. Orange peel waters hide lonely tears. Remember wasted time. This is not a sad poem. It is orange tea meditating over incongruent wants. Remember […]
I am revisiting this piece which I wrote a very long time ago. At the time I’d been reading quite a bit of Shel Silverstein’s children’s poems and shortly after discovered his story, The Giving Tree. I was most enthralled with his poetry and in a roundabout way was led to his children’s poems after […]
I was challenged by my friend, Nena, to write a tritina. This is my first one. Ink black and bleeding onto white paper Words want to find the lost white spaces Black blood-ink attempts to stifle my raging voice But inside these words I am a wanting voice The ink finds its way back to […]