rxjamie

My story is brief, but my existence is marvelling. My name Ahmed Jamila to me is a music in itself. My profession pharmacy is the rythm I've

5 Posts • 25 Followers • 43 Following

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rxjamie

58 reads

A DWELLING MONSTER...

Once, I had a the pain of sorrow

The one I thought was a dwelling one

The one I found was dwelling one.

Once I had a scorching sound

The one that sent fire drums

The one that blaze in thorns and spike

Once I had the mesmerizing Agony

The thought arouse, I yelled in pain

The dwelling monster I sought not to seek.

For days I've layed and dreamt

For weeks I've seen my tormentor

I even tried a month in a battle

But yet it dwells a year

Never vanishing.

My tormenting monster

Abide my way

Else I be you

And become a dwelling master in the shrine of a dwelling monster.

rxjamie

72 reads

Last Time

For a dancing stage, we had too many showcasing. Some halts while others actually dance. For me, I was indifferent coz it the time for goodbye. Wished last time had dwelled forever.

rxjamie

57 reads

Maryam.

So naive and innocent, so stunning like stars ablaze. In the downing dim, glows of glory. In the scorching sun aloof with miseries. In the dark night the crescent beauty, like a moon so stunning, like stars ablaze. Maryam

rxjamie

69 reads

Don’t go hamham, go step by step

That's the mountain top you aim to climb. But don't go hamham, its a bit at a time. One step is an eggshell the other is blurred, one step are thorns and the other is honey. One step is a nutshell and the other we trail. Its so tiring. Still don't go hamham, patience is all it takes to reach the top.

rxjamie

74 reads

My world

If I wasn't born in the era of technology, I would cast myself off along a tree trunk, believing I am an outcast-

I do not belong, I do not mix in all the dazzling chaos at the moment.

The choice will be made if only the world was still, down to earth and around the globe, If the world was still, scenting incense of superstition.

Looking at those time when in my though, it's all ambush of carobs, when behind my eyes its all dark coloured roses, my lips interlocked, my mind at fizzed and my hands freely downing words in ink, with all on my smiling paper.

If I was born in the other era, era of abomination, maybe I will belong. For among my peers I single out, grandma am called. And in my home the hunted one.

Alive and Aloof, in the skills I've gat, cheering joyfully in the stories I tell, just yesterday, it was one of a tale, just today it was among all poetry, tomorrow will be a prose, and what will be the future will be.

At the top of my head, felt wrinkled leaves. Popping in my ears, spines and thorns. Everything scent of incense my nose perceived, and admists all, I had lots to write. Rejuvenating my thoughts my only desire. The feeling of calmness, only writing brings.

This is another era, not an abomination. This is another era, not a superstition, I am casted in. This is another era, where I exist.

And this is me, here with my skills, not perfect though, but with this era I coexist.