Poetry for Moths

You light me up, Fire and flame, As your mouth curves To put me to shame. Who are you, That you can see me so? Where were you, That your innermost you I'll never know? A smile that lays Reservations to waste, The sweet embrace, Of your laughter, made to taste. Howling from across the gleam, Fellowship grows. A punk-teen-love, dream team That only Plato knows.

The Consumerist Machine Has a singular goal: Fill your soul with greed And swallow you whole. 〰️•〰️•〰️ The Consumerist Machine Seeks to divide and conquer, Hatch imaginary needs To provoke your hunger. 〰️•〰️•〰️ How much longer? Will the Consumerist Machine Devour your dreams Suffocating you, selfishly. 〰️•〰️•〰️ The Consumerist Machine Begs you: "Forget Falasteen!" As it tapes your mouth shut, And locks you out or up. 〰️•〰️•〰️ But it's not too late to turn the tide, Pick up your principles, And desert the pit In which you hide. 〰️•〰️•〰️ Resistance is not only fire and flame, But the choice of choosing truth and pain. When the next generation seeks to blame, How will it treat your name? 〰️•〰️•〰️•〰️

The River bleeds your blood,  And the Sea sings your name,  While the coloniser's bombs flood Your earth with new graves. Clouds of smoke plague the land You hold dear, as voices smothered Reach out a hand for their dying Mother, Hoping She is near. Beaches, mosques, and steeples Are ruined without end, As the world watches a people It helped slaughter and condemn, Run out of water and children. Death by rubble await many more. As the oppressor tries to bury their crimes in fire, Even the stillness of demise cannot shelter a liar from their lies, When they call it a "war, not a genocide."  Yet annihilations and evacuations, Cannot displace the heart, Nor those who refused to abandon stations from the start. Fill the sky with phosphor and paper planes, they dare you, Drench their splintered homes in acid rains. They won't spare you from the truth:  Freedom will come, and mountains will move. For even after centuries of atrocities unspoken, The spirit of Palestine cann...

Like the ebb and flow  Depend on one another, We come and we go, A release without smother. For when dreary days dance on, We seek out the sun Only to find it in each other. Darkness clouds our judgement,  In times of sorrow, Emptiness, grief; barren As the Great Barrier Reef.  Yet  There's always tomorrow, We come and we go. Just as we come and we go, Our doubts will wash over, Frothed and swivelled, To and fro. I bet  Even the cleverest raven, Sometimes feels like a crow.

Red lips, wine-tinted at the tips, Release words un-distilled and clement, Warm and true, full sentences that curl up to hearts, Anchoring friendships, solid, like cement. Honest and open, I'd stand by your mind in the deluge, Fight the war of your emotional refuge. I'd find your well and put a rope in. Don't you ever repent, When they say "too much",  You've only barely arrived, And I can't get enough.

Flesh-thought wreckages, gore on fine Paper. A first prize masochist, they say'd give it all up. Curse your eyes, your mouth, your mind, that I'd 180 for a touch. Anything to brush up, against you in time. It's too late to mend the cracks, To un-wrinkle the path and iron the creases, We lost our way when we bent our backs, For adventures that left us sleepless.  It's better this way, they say. But I burn and I ache, At the thought of what I've given you, And what you gave. Now everything's uncomfortable, And what used to be sacred, Is repressed, because we've faked it. Now we're uncomfortable. But I still love you after all.