Human Art

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He drops his heart.
Brown eyes smile trust.
The fool expects love,
All he gave was lust.

I let it fall.
It shatters. Ice.
One thousand shards.

A collection of attention.
His broken heart.
Scattered diamonds.
This human art.

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How was your day?

“How was your day?”
It hurt my soul.
Peace-less everywhere I’d go.
There were beggars in green,
Sleeping bags on the street.
Where, amongst this,
Do hearts find peace?

“How was your day?”
It hurt my soul.
Two young girls studying in the mosque floor,
Because for Muslims, the library isn’t safe any more.

“How was your day?”
It hurt my soul.
Dishonesty so easily amongst brothers and foes.
Like bad breath, into air their lies poured.
Where can a heart rest when there’s no trust anymore?

“How was your day?”
It hurt my soul.
Guilt tore me up the second I left my front door.
All she did was try to protect my soul,
I blamed and hated her each day, more and more.

How was your day?
It hurt my soul.
It was a bad day,
Dark and cold.
But something amazed me
As I walked back alone.
The heavens opened up,
Not rain, but hailstone.
I got showered with love,
From the One who knows.

How was yours?

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Sometimes you don’t know what you need until you are freezing, getting pelted my hailstones, standing in awe, reminded of the Ultimate Power. He is here. We are not alone.

We are One

kintsukuroi; to mend broken pottery with gold.

We tiptoe around issues that will only come out and get fixed if we smash them open. So afraid of what we’ll hear, by the time we have no choice but to face them, it’s too late.

Accept, understand and resolve the problems that life throws at you and those around you with gentleness and love – it IS your role to look out for one an other.

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Remember that people are of two kinds; they are either your brothers in religion or your brothers in mankind. ~ Ali, the son-in-law of prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him

Western Harbour

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They came.
Like cockroaches on the rocks,
Infested the bay.
Washed away my memories.
Corrupted my sanctity,
With their vile innocence and innocent purity.

They came.
In a cloud of smiles and sparks in their steps,
All over the harbour.
The birds kept away,
From these unwelcomed strangers,
Occupying their resting place.

Pointing. Here and there,
Even the sun’s sparkle upon the water,
They stole for their simple minds.
The sun doesn’t choose which way it shines.
They stepped on the algae.
How dare they?
So unworthy.

Dancing along the cracks,
They didn’t see its worth.
Didn’t recognise the broken rock,
And the darkness it sucked in.
How dare they?
So unworthy.

Did they know the lighthouse was the lighthouse?
Did they know the bridge was the bridge?
Did they know the sand was the golf pit?
How dare they?
So unworthy.

Still Alive

photo credits to www.sakurainhighpark.com

Branched Out,
Strong start.
Nutrient starved.
Beaten by life.
Thinned out,
Sprawled out.
Still alive. Still alive.

Drowned. Robbed.
Birds and Rain.
Wind and storm.
Loss of life.
Still alive. Still alive.

Nurtured by the beat.
Sprigs of green,
Pink and red.
A stronger head.
Still alive. Still alive.

Growing out.
Making life.
Painting smiles.
Premature love,
She’s still a bud.
Still alive. Still alive.

photo credits to www.sakurainhighpark.com
photo credits to http://www.sakurainhighpark.com

“From weight comes strength.”

Bubbles

Like bubbles on the surface of puddles in the rain,

Waiting to pop from the bit of the drop that is entirely different,

And yet exactly the same.

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“We hate what we are yet we are what we love.”