poetryrepairs 16. 08:095

AYSHA J. NASSER :An Autobiography
AYSHA J. NASSER :Perseus/I, Medusa

for your reading pleasure, verse
from new and established poets
poetry requires a mature audience,
if you are under 18 years of age, click here Big Fish


 
An Autobiography 

I was born between Two and Three AM. I was born in-between Life and Death. The doctor had Life written on his mouth, but it was a thin line. They couldn’t see through the blood, forming clouds in my head. Blood, come to create and destroy. Then the water came - and everything grew still. In-between Life and Death there was I. And I was sent here. And I was loved. So all I could say was Yes. I began to walk at the age of Three. It was difficult no doubt, but I said Yes. So I became a ballet dancer & a wild, limp ing horse in one, galloping around clumsily on tip toes. I first saw them looking at the age of Six. I did not understand. But I saw. I felt. I collided. In between the webs of collective opinion and able-ism, I awoke to the weight of dysfunction and strangeness. And even while this spider bore its poisonous fangs into my flesh, I said Yes. I ran at the age of Ten. Long hair blowing in the wind, laughter always on my lips. I ran so fast I fell. One, Two, Three, a Thousand times. I tore flesh, flat on my face. Knocked out a tooth. Coordination and balance was never my forte. But Rome was not built in a day. And all I could say was Yes. I died when I was Thirteen. The world collapsed into itself and left was only I. I hardly remember that time. But all I ever said was Yes. I resurrected at Sixteen. And from in between Life and Death I brought a friend. Her name was Anger. She wore dark blue eye shadow only, and spend hours in her tower. I think she tried to lock herself away, but I stopped her eventually. Because all I could say was Yes. I fell apart at Eighteen. I took Denial to bed. He was quite sexy, what can I say. He had a lot of friends who liked to throw stones while standing in glass houses. Little did they know, I would spent a long, moonless night fitting the pieces back together that year. In its place there rose a temple, melted and forged with blood and fire. In it I met myself, all stripped, clear and crystallized. In-between Life and Death I told them No, just to say Yes. He came to me at Twenty. A gift, you see. His name is Perfection. He is Five now. He is in-between Life and Death, as fiercely as any brother should be. And to him I can only say Yes Yes Yes. I fell in love at Twenty-One. I fled his house at midnight. It was run down and empty, just like me. I died a bitter Death that night. In between his hands and threats I ran towards the Light. He chocked the air out of me, with dark eyes to bind whatever Will was left. And in-between Life and Death there came darkness and forgetting. And all I could do was wait - and whisper Yes. My mother didn’t name me Life for nothing. I remembered at Twenty-Four. And all I could say was Yes. I got lost in a labyrinth of white walls and sickness at Twenty-Five. He got me there, that’s what he did. A vampire, the seemingly romantic kind. Never trust a vampire, I’m telling you. I lost so much blood, they had to replace it. ‘’Do you want to live?’’, my mother asked. In-between Life and Death I went into shock. So I stared deep into the void, waiting for it to stare back. And all I could do was say Yes. I was born between Two and Three AM. I was born in-between Life and Death. I am still in-between Life and Death, and I will always be. In-between Life and Death there is only You and only Me. In-between Life and Death nothing is lost. Because all I can ever say is Yes.

poetryrepairs #227 v16. 08:095





AYSHA J. NASSER
Perseus/I, Medusa

Just gonna Sit right here And write here Till I die or Longer if Need be Gonna write And write Then write More and more Good or bad Perseus/I, Medusa Just writing Need to emphasize the Perseus/I, Medusa more (that felt good…Perseus/I, Medusa...I highly recommend writing that) Then I’m gonna Not care more (or less…?) Till I’m bursting With Perseus/I, Medusa Liberation of spirit Freedom of wing Perseus/I, Medusa Not worried Not stressed Perseus/I, Medusa One bit

poetryrepairs #227 v16. 08:095






   




thank you for reading poetryrepairs
please link to http://www.poetryrepairs.com/v16/095.html
link to POETRYREPAIRS




All the fine arts are species of poetry--Samuel Taylor Coleridge

poetry repairs your heart
even as it splits it open.
VIRGINIA WOOLF
The Art of Reading





Our Dancing Poet Logo! FIND GIFT BUY GIFT
http://www.zazzle.com/poetryrepairshop



No state organ: POETRYREPAIRS
accepts NO money from federal,
state, or local governments.
READERS maintain poetryrepairs
NO READING FEE FOR SUBMISSIONS. DONATIONS, while appreciated, WILL NOT INCREASE CHANCES OF BEING SELECTED.


I have many things to write unto you but
I will not write with pen and ink
--JOHN the theologian


free counters


REPAIR: resort, frequent or habitual going; concourse or confluence of people at or in a place; making one's way; to go, betake oneself, to arrive; return to a place; to dwell; to recover, heal, or cure; to renew; to fix to original condition. -- Oxford English Dictionary


read more poetry

AYSHA J. NASSER 25 year old German kid. likes art. Usually takes pictures, has no clue about poetry. Cat person.


top