The human memory has unlimited capacity. A rabbit hole full of wonder and moments calling us back to feelings, people and places long since out of reach — transporting us like time machines. How strange it is that the mechanics of how we can forget all the details — are the same ones that can trigger us to remember everything.
A thousand kisses
I hum a melody. Nostalgia pulls me in closer than lovers do, painting me over until I’m misty blue. I sing the hook ‘so kiss me…’ —on repeat in between more humming. …
Sometimes you need more than one more chance at love. Time after time, I chronicle these trials and errors in love on printed and digital pages. Our love languages build in stages. In the meantime, we might come undone struggling to make sense of their meaning. Hearts spill out garbled words that compose themselves into ambiguous sentences, manipulating syntax the way poets often do. Lover’s need a love dictionary to archive any moments of clarity.
This is an interactive game of chance and intent. We’re all in too deep, bass-baritone heartbeats and thunderstorms on our tongues when we speak. We…
Life in the usually bustling metropolis of London, is still as weird as it was a year ago — relative to our neighbours across the rest of the world. Closed shops and subdued high-streets. Masked strangers with eyes full of suspicion about the unmasked among them (just imagine that scenario for a second — circa 2018). Panic rising like mercury and hearts skipping beats at the sound of two consecutive coughs — not to mention a sneeze. A romance renaissance via virtual dating. When I rock up alone at the supermarket, it has become inevitable that I’ll spend some time…
It’s early February, 2021. On a winter morning full of nothing but grey sky — and the occasional rattle and hum from a train speeding by the back of my flat, memories flood my mind like disorganised archives. I sit in my front room flitting between staring out of my window and into the blank screen of my laptop. I’m trying to write a piece, offer a perception about love and how it intertwines with the human experience during times of challenge or ease. The world, our human conditions — are always subject to great change. Despite the invisible, deadly…
Fever is running high
because the world wants to commodify everything we’ve got.
Resilience is running low
when our backbones are used like a universal crutch.
As far as we have come —
disparity is still real,
representation is not equity, there is more than masks and bullet proof glass —
between the world and us.
Descendants of mitichondrial Eve —
deserve to be affirmed with actions that create ease,
with actions that stop us from waiting to exhale —
and just let us breathe.
Our energy is a currency.
The state of the world needs to manage its expectations…
If you are wild,
you flourish in the gap between wilderness and society.
Kindred spirits dance to the da DUM — of your heartbeats.
Renegades respond to your energy — like it’s a battle cry for peace —
whispering about revolution while uncivil wars rage and crumble cities.
With eyes wide awake or closed tight,
they know, they know —
there is no time to waste,
you know, you know —
social conditions need to change,
we know, we know —
tomorrow is a day too late.
We’re surrounded by wolves, they wear no disguise.
Threatened by disease, disturbing our lives.
The world going crazy, has…
Under the street lights on a warm moonless night in the spring, the dark wraps itself around us.
We begin to fade. Faster than teenage kicks, speeding cars and racing heartbeats, trains on the track and dance floors pounded by dancing feet. This city love is a mix-tape of memories and symphonies. Season after season, our ambivalence reigned. So many skeletons rattling keys in our closets, so many ghosts intent on driving us insane. Seems like forever since we’ve been lonely together, falling up and down, tethered by fast breaths and slow touch, taken over by unstoppable emotions. …
just when I thought I was done struggling to make sense
of the state of the world and who we are,
pausing to contemplate the improbable — that I might be out of love.
I blew the dirt from my eyes and thought twice.
I called on sisters, queens, goddesses —
east and west; north and south;
with fire in their lungs and reckless urges in their guts.
They breathed life back into me — and bottled lightning was released.
I wasn’t quite out of love after all.
The Universe — was still willing to rise with me.