Some things girls like me go through

1. Every time someone drives a car bad Mamma assumes that it maybe a woman and Pappa nods. I mock their prejudice silently and roll my window down, and scream into myself.

2. God apparently made Men before he made women. Some Men are now trying to prove that they are Women’s God. God comes to me in my sleep and tells me, he still is my God and all these things that the men are saying was an error.

3. In front of a lighted candle my mother tells me that my eyes should be brighter than light itself. She says that some boys only fall for bright eyes, they forgets to see the heart. Some men are oblivious to the matter of your heart.

4. Apparently there’s an invitation letter between my legs and if I sit with my legs open. All men’s hell will break lose.

5. We’re afraid of demons.

6. We face discrimination everyday. Yesterday a friend of mine told me, my handwriting doesn’t look like that of a girl. She said it’s dirty, like that of a man. There are men who has a good handwriting, I’ve seen it.

7. According to my brother, men only realises that a woman have legs if she’s wearing a leggings or shorts. It is an unwanted attention he says. So I’m dying legless.

8. There is something wrong with my clock. My world ends after it’s 6 in the evening. After it’s dark there’s nothing more. Women are not for the night, my wall echos.

9. My mother doesn’t know I’m writing this. I know she’ll disown me if she does. Please hide!



© The Rendezvous Club 2019

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Stay! I haven’t said this to a lot of people

But whenever I said it, I ended up hurt

And all that stayed was the hurt

Until my eyes turned red

And my heart turned blue.

Stay! I now say these to my tears

Even they don’t listen

My only refugee is these dark rooms

They abandon me too when they find me toxic, when they want light.

Stay! I love you

Stay! I don’t

Stay! Don’t leave me

Stay! Please.

This is pretty sad, now close your eyes or leave.

I’m done asking for people to stay

Please leave.

Now don’t send me messages

Asking me to be positive,

Or saying that I’m selling agony,

I am not a merchant,

Well if I was I would have sold my dreams

Not my pain.

Now please don’t come asking me for help

Telling me that you love someone

I know that ain’t me

I’m never enough, I’ve heard this a lot.

I know I know, just close your mouth

I may not be beautiful, but I haven’t sold my self respect yet.

Like I said, I’m done asking people to stay,

Those who want to stay, will stay

Even if you ask or not

Those who want to love, will love

Even if you ask or not.

And the only person you want

To stay for you is you,

So you stay put with yourself.

And remember you’re beautiful

Just tell him to get lost.



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Lover boy

My lover boy is a violet lover
We do not kiss but instead
We shares moths after sunset
And he always lets me have the wings
And I turn purple every time he touches me.

Each time he listens to leaves rustles
He draws ripples on my dusky skin
With his crimson finger tips and
He counts the circles it forms
On my body, one two three he’d say.

He never rescues me from a random tower
He never covers me with his naked skin
He never buries my secrets within his
He never gives me flowers,
Why give you flowers which gifts you thorns he’d say.

But he knows my aching spot
He balms it with reddish poems from forlorn bins
Gently massages tiny bit of oil into my cuts
And asks me never to leave him
But I must leave him

My lover boy is a violet lover but
He’s violent too,
My aching spot
My painting limbs
My boiling cuts
We’re all a gifts from him,
And I must leave him because
Him balming my skin
Can never make up for his sin.



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Tell me

My mouth opens

Only to say death chants.

Death resides in each and

Every corner of the cinder blocks

Thats used to build this

Tomb in which I resides.

Hairs fall upon my facial skin

Like sheets of ice glass on

Delicate earth covering the

Chasm to it’s heart.

I breathe in to, let the demons out

Each sigh leavese like a scream

Slowly but with a mighty echo in caves.

My pupils are dilated

I am sick, sick of the salt touches

On my wrist and the licking of sweet honey

From my chins.

There is something hiding in

These cement corners and

I blindly slip and falls on top

Of each poems but they never

Leads me to a kill.

The cuckoos they call out my name

After sunsets but I don’t know

Where they are, it’s darkness

It’s darkness outside like

The dark hair of a maiden

Who appears to be in love.

Like that of a dark eyes of

A sailor who’s eyes enlarges at

The sight of a tsunami approaching.

Now, take my hand and

Kiss my nails

Smell the blood on my wrist

Place a block of ice on my lips

Tell me it will be alright.

I slipped and fell on a poem,

But it leads me not to a kill.

Tell me it’s alright

Tell me I’m safe.

Image from Pinterest.



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I am

I’m a tragedy

I’m not a poem

Which forgot it’s end

I am the scream of Antigone

The death blade which killed Brutus

I am truth, everything which you are not.

I am the strangulation marks on your neck

The dried blood stains on your collarbones

I am the house where all this happened

The fire you melts in your mouth

I am a reminder you survived.

I am this anger and the pain

I am the night and the rain

I am all this and

I maybe this poem too

Because this one has an ending



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The betrayal poem

I know I’m betraying myself,

When I’m waiting for you

I am never the Sandy beaches

And you never the sea

You will never come,

You can’t come

It’s just that you won’t come

You’re through with me

I know that for sure

It’s like this tree which died but it

Still is sticking to it’s last leaf

Hoping that the leaf stays green for a little more while

Betraying itself with hope,

Clinging on to miracles

Like children with glossy eyes

Who prays for candies to fall from the sky.

I say to others that I don’t wait anymore

Sometimes I say it to myself in the mirror

I don’t love you,

I don’t hope for you to come back to me anymore,

And I don’t wait for you anymore,

I’m moving on.

I am a child and

I’m growing, I’m evolving, I’m changing

I am a tree and

I’m growing, I’m evolving, I’m changing

But the truth is

I’m just lying to myself,

All lies,

Lie! Lie! Lie!

I’m still loving, I’m still hoping, I’m still waiting.

I’m betraying, Myself!


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Body of painting

Van Gogh’s painting that I stole from the museum

Is stuck in my throat

As it’s colors are flooding my eyes

Melting my face .

Windows painted in yellow

The lamps are spreading it’s light inside the house

Yet there are no shadows of children

Dancing to the music of their father,

Is visible through that yellow eyes of the house.

Are those house sad

I asked my lover

He grabbed hold of my hand and

Bit all of my fingers

One by one

Some of them bled while the others not

Then he asked me

Write poetry with those and frame them as it is

In their written form

And someone might once ask her lover

Seeing those words, those blood stains

Was she sad when she wrote this?

And her lover might just kiss her to tell her

It doesn’t matter anymore.

It doesn’t matter anymore!

I’ve heard someone say that

Artists are mad men who isolate themselves

Scarifies things no one cares about

And call themselves the forgotten ones.

Van Gogh cut his ears off for his art

My mother grabbed hold of my hands

Much firmer than how my lover held

And asked what are you going to do

I knew she was trying to say, don’t cut your wrist.

Depression may not be a painting

But it is black water to marble something on.

I’ve forgotten the difference between sunrises and sunsets now and

I just float at the end of the sea

My skin exposed and the crimson sun

Coloring each of my skin cells, in red, blue, yellow, Orange and purple too sometimes.

While I mumur to the sea in a dead tone

que mon corps soit un tableau

Let my body be a painting.



©The Rendezvous Club 2019

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