write rhymes

Shoot across the sky
Ambitious as the rocket
That landed on the moon
Aim farther than any eye
Has ever seen
Higher than all the galaxies
The sky is as limited as
The amount of breaths and
Chances we take
When action speaks louder
Than the words we say
And action reflects
Our amount of faith
I hope we’ll all look back at
Our stories of today
Not with regret
But with joy we reflect
In peace we smile
At a life worthwhile
To know we’ve lived
“Well done…”
And to be welcomed home
“…my faithful one.”

8

I want to see you.

Know your voice.

Recognize you when you
first come ’round the corner.

Sense your scent when I come
into a room you’ve just left.

Know the lift of your heel,
the glide of your foot.

Become familiar with the way
you purse your lips
then let them part,
just the slightest bit,
when I lean in to your space
and kiss you.

I want to know the joy
of how you whisper
“more”

by Rumi

Thanks for being there

You touched my heart when no-one could
When things went wrong you understood
In times I thought I could not cope
You filled my mind with love and hope
When I felt I was not strong enough
You let me know that I was loved
You rescued me from the depths of despair
So thank you dear friend, for being there…

- Ranata Suzuki

His eyes are the color I am named
His smile lights warm fires in my breast
His hair is messy and untamed
His laugh is always joined by mine in the chest.

His heart is the purest gold
And he believes every lie I’ve told.

He is innocent and beautiful
My heart yearns for his love
The ways he could hold me would be wonderful
Yet I am a broken and wounded dove.

His heart is the purest gold
And I hurry to let this tragedy unfold.

—  Hazel

There is a traditional Kanton hand-clapping rhyme that tells the story of a foolish child grabbing the tails of a ninetales in turn, detailing all of the different curses that will befall them as a consequence. Although originally Japanese, the song has an English translation which, whilst mostly similar in meaning, has been adapted to preserve the rhymes and rhythm. The song is as follows:


Mama, mama, I felt the first tail,

As bright as a penny and as soft as a veil.

I think I did wrong, but I do not know why,

Because there’s night in my eyes and not a star in the sky. 


Mama, mama, I felt the next tail,

As light as a cloud and as sleek as a scale.

I think I did wrong, but I do not know how,

Because there’s blood on my tongue and sweat on my brow.


Mama, mama, I felt the third tail,

As thick as a bush and so golden and pale.

I think I did wrong, for all I can tell,

Because there’s fire in my chest that no water can quell.


Mama, mama, I felt the fourth tail,

As long as a ribbon and smooth as a gale.

I think I did wrong, or so I can guess,

Because there’s hands on my back that keep pulling my dress.


Mama, mama, I felt the fifth tail,

Swirling like wood smoke and shining like hail. 

I think I did wrong, or something akin,

Because there’s an ache in my bones and bites on my skin.


Mama, mama, I felt the sixth tail,

The golden of grain but not nearly so frail.

I think I did wrong, made some kind of mistake,

Because my head’s full of nightmares that don’t leave when I wake. 


Mama, mama, I touched them again,

As nice on the skin as a warm summer rain. 

I think I did wrong, it must be the case,

Because there’s a girl in the mirror who’s not got my face.


Mama, mama, I can’t count any more,

There’s teeth in my heart and a hand in my core.

The pain’s in my head and my bones have turned weak,

So let down my body and leave me to sleep.


The last line is often shouted, traditionally followed by the children dropping to the floor and closing their eyes. The length and content of the song varies across the Japanese regions.  

Without Liberty and Justice for All


they have forgotten
that constitutional rights
are not meant to be earned


that it is our right to wear
a hijab, yamaka, or habit; to control
our own bodies; to enjoy
the same legalities regardless
of who we commit
our lives to; to be seen
as equal no matter
the color of our skin or land of our birth


it is when rights undeniable
are suddenly threatened that
we pause, we recall the past fights
weathered by our beaten brethren


the oppressed have never been duly
awarded the rights that the privileged stash
deep in their pockets


now is the time for us to meld
and rise, to demand that the law
hold us equal in its eyes


we will never quit until
the most trampled of us
are our equals, standing tall

—  JMS
4

How does a servant, menial, grown for her congenial assistance,
existent by necessity, yet in her Homeworld’s eyes a mere accessory,
appendage to a Gem who shouldn’t think of her as thinking,
go on to challenge armies without blinking?

(insp: 1 2 )

Hallowed ground, hollowed you. Words encumbered, slumbered through. Holding steady, trending ending. Mirrored hero, broken anew.
— 

For -M! You’re a pain in the rear, but a good friend!!! A very good bad friend!!! Go ask @torrentialmonsoon things anonymously! She LOVES it!!!

-H. Murcia 11:00PM 1/15/2017