What the Stars Say

Posted: April 23, 2018 in Life
Tags: , , , ,

1af7b72d619819a8673ee88e42a48652---zodiac-zodiac-signs.jpgI am not one to believe in Horoscopes and Zodiac signs, aside from knowing my sign is a cancer and that it is represented by a crab, my knowledge about it  is very little and I have never really I tried to inquire more either. I was going through the weekly newspaper at the firm where I intern skimming the paper for business law and other relevant business news of the week for my boss when I reached the final pages of the newspaper with the weekly horoscope. My curiosity got the best of me and I looked at what it had in store for cancers for the week. It read as follows: Read the rest of this entry »

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Photography by: Anatoli

Sometimes my poems don’t make sense.

even

to

me.

Othertimes, they are the only thing in the whole wide world

that

do.

Untittled

Posted: February 23, 2018 in Poetry
Tags: , , , , ,

Artwork by: Andreea Cioran

Sometimes you don’t need anyone to feel special, sometimes you don’t need other peoples company.

Sometimes you just need to be alone…

You, Yourself and Alcohol.

Artwork by: Lola beltran

These days when people ask me what I do, my first response is that I am a student. I understand that I am not just one thing but also a whole of other things but the ‘student’ tittle is the one that comes to me naturally. Just as easy the ‘student’ moniker rolls out of my tounge, I find it harder and harder to identify as a writer. There is a pause, a stutter of some sort, in between the question of what I do and my subsquent response.

Can I really call myself a writer when I barely even write anymore?

The follow up questions are always “What kind of writing do you do?” or something along the lines. I say “I write poetry” as it seems to be the only form of writing that is inconsistently consistent , or that I write “short short stories” which I havent written in a while.

The moment the words come out of my mouth I feel like a fraud. Like someone who is taking credit for something I had no hand in, to something that I am not.

What is a writer, really? Someone who creates a completley new world from nothing? Someone who is able to transform the person reading the texts to a completley diffrent emotional state? Someone who’s published?

Does self-identification as one suffice to be worthy to hold that tittle?

So many questions that lead to a whole lot of other questions, questions I can barely even begin to answer.

So what happens, what’s next? Will I even publish this post? Or is it going to end up like the other millions and millions of unfinished writings that bite the dust or sit in my archives collecting dust?

So what is the RIGHT answer to this question of being or not being a WRITER?

No Titles

Posted: February 17, 2018 in Poetry
Tags: , , , ,

Art Work: Johan Deckmann

1.

I think of you when I read a poem

I think of you when I write one.

You have invaded my poetry

Weren’t my thoughts enough?

2.

I will keep writing poems about you,

poems for you

so one day I have written enough poems about you that

I don’t anymore.

Cycles

Posted: February 15, 2018 in Poetry
Tags: , ,

Art by: Andreea Cioran

I feel tired. Not physically exhausted, no, I am talking of the mental kind. And the emotional too. I am tired of walking the same route, no matter how much I try to go astray, no matter how much I try to take short-cuts, no matter how fast I ran to make it out, I always end up going in the same direction. I always end up reverting …to you.

Cycles

I am sitting in a restaurant at Arat Kilo. The place is more crowded than I thought it would be. And the speaker is blasting some old Amharic song I can’t seem to remember who the singer is. I don’t mind being in a crowded space. With so many conversations going on at the same time. Add in car honks. And loud music; you have your recipe for an absolute pandemonium. But it helps. Somehow. It helps drown out the voices in my head, the countless conversations going on simultaneously. When I imagine my mind, I picture a place like this outdoor restaurant. At rush hour. Where everybody is having beer after a long days work.

Read the rest of this entry »