The Muruku Murmurations

I wrote this trying to process the incidences that happened over the past few months, trying to reflect on 2020 and what it all meant. What effect did it have on my life and honestly what does being human mean to me now after everything? Well, we all have our vices It's being human As long as we are decent human being about it Living in ignorance is the absence of compassion Being aware and living by that awareness doesn't mean we aren't allowed to be who we are Or allow good things to happen in our life We all have been monsters and are plagued by our demons At some point It's learning to take the power/authority from them, be more human ourselves and not letting the ghost of unforgiveness haunt us anymore And finding angels who walk on earth Bodies consumed by alcohol Broken by insomnia Mind seeing things that don't exist. Heavy heart that sinks beneath my feet, the same heart that pumps life through my body is pressed upon by my own soles. Beaten by every step of...

Looks like a lot of 2019 has been a stream of consciousness, maybe it's just my mind being a complete mess for most of the year. At this point now in 2020, things are starting to come to the surface and the mind is more still which gives me more room to breathe.  There’s a storm here again tonight. It’s been a strange day. Begun and ended violently.  I lay here in my bed listening to the wind and the driving rain assaulting my windows. But I’m safe and warm. Protected here from turmoil as I am by your presence in my life.  I feel so removed as to almost appreciate the chaos just beyond the shroud of comfort which surrounds me. As I do in the care and kindness and love I feel in being with you. Your presence makes the troubles of my life seem further away. Like a storm outside my windows. You’re not my shield from it. But in my mind, you are here with me. And the safety I feel in your presence allows me to appreciate the beauty in all that chaos. In the trivial problems of...

I really hate goodbyes in every context of it, never good at it and it feels like an unfulfilled driveby. Part of processing is accepting, allowing myself to feel which I couldn't do because I didn't want to face the realities of things and it was too dark to sit in my mind-pit. I let my thoughts run and tried not to self-censor when I wrote this. Tonight thunders with no sight of lightning Laying on the floor curled up in fetal form Skin grazing the chaffing carpet with every breath Fingers grasping empty air pockets Coddling a creeping sense of abandonment Weightlessness grows heavy Sinking into a hard cement floor Knees tucking closer to the heart Coldness circulates the body from the inside out. Dear diary, I am not good with goodbyes. Last words you heard were: "Is this vein sufficient for your entry and what is this cocktail?" Absent in anaesthesia Eyes blindfolded by white noise Everything was quietly ringing in the background. Swiftly, the doors open He escape...

Taking a page of how I go through my process of getting myself through the day especially during bouts of depression. At the time I wrote this, I was going through an unexpected wave of it. It felt like a knockout punch to the face as I was supposed to be happy at the time, having my partner around and being elated but something triggered a memory and I spiralled. Breathless... because we choked on our tears Fears overwhelm like undercurrents that bring us  to a place we don't expect Neurons misfire Miscommunicate causing fingers to tremble like earthquakes A constant reminder That your own body isn't in your control A time frame when all senses escape Reality is misplaced Drowning in sorrow isn't the same as  drowning your sorrows Guilt buried deep in our skin Seeping through subcutaneous regrets and resentment  Dermal disdained memories Visceral feelings of churning discomfort   A whiskey a day to keep the monkeys away Dry djinn spells and eerie absinthe nights dwe...

This is how my mind flows in the wee hours of the morning especially after a day or two of no sleep. In recent months, I binge on Netflix series and watch it till I see the sunrise, then try to get some sleep and hopefully not waste the rest of my day. This one was during the times of binge-watching 'The Good Place' and listening to this Alison Wonderland playlist. I performed this piece at Oral Fixation's second last show in Sceni in 2019. I remember seeing your constellation mapping the journey through each and every fabric of time It's being, the sensations of the logical thinking brief fleeting memories flights of insomnia strike laced with glory and salutations Glorification Instant menial solitude of solitary blacks cascading into chanting reactions and stairs of tumbles and ruffles like wind and carcasses that feel like butterscotch rain and Thundercats pains the Wayne's of destitute seeming in a tad wonder and tranquil burning and lustre silver slivers and ...

In the month of April 2020, Makhluk Seni kicked off #HomegrownMakhlukSenis with 10 days of prompts, mindfulness activities and goals to help us get through the isolation. My years since I left the healthcare industry have felt like me being stuck in a constant roundabout. It may be a different roundabout each time but it still feels like I am starting from square one at different points, making little progress and recalibrating or readjusting but that is life. We don't  Day 8 Like grass under my feet Lately, I’ve been swaying in and out of daydreams,⠀ Shifting thoughts from “could have” to “what if?”⠀ ⠀ Dear Makhluk Seni, w e ask you: In these times of uncertainty, what is grounding you? #quarantineinitiative #grassroots #PACT2020 #NAPoWriMo #NaPoWriMo2020 Every day comes with the waves When you have the strength, You can dive in deeper beneath it Deep within is a sense of weightlessness Fully submerged and emerge after it passes Find solace in a breath before the next wave comes....

I was having a mental dip that week and had trouble looking in the mirror. I kept seeing the scars left by my past and the face of my father. I had trouble processing my thought and wanted to write a letter to my father but it turned into a poem.   Papa.   I have never called him that. I learned to call him 'Daddy' from when I could understand the context of it I called him that and always will I learned the word 'father' A male parent who is the breadwinner Who puts food on the table The family's leader.   I wondered why different people called their fathers differently Appa, Bapa, Ayah, Papa, Oтец, Dad, Father I learned that father is a noun Daddy is a proper noun, A name by which a familiar child can call a familiar father An endearment used at home where it was safe and comforting.   Later on I came to understand more context A father is a strong figure, a masculine influence, an example of adulthood Some grew up never knowing their fathers Some grew up losing t...