Ignorance persists Humiliation lingers

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@ahouko
Ignorance persists Humiliation lingers
Don't you say it...
Someone: You're so pretty
Me: Awh thank you!
Someone: Oh I wasn't quite finished.
Me: Nah that's okay let's just leave it at that!
Someone: What I was going to say was...
Me: Really you should stop here.
Someone: But you're so pretty for ...
Me: Honestly, don't ...
Someone: ...for someone in a...
Me: Don't you say it!
Someone: You're so pretty for someone in a wheelchair!!
Me: AAAAANNND you said it.
I could get used to this place #itsneversunnyinlondon #gradlife (at House of Lords)
S H A D O W P L A Y
Truthfully
Even though I am happy and grateful for the opportunity to study an MA in IR, which helps me understand what a social clusterfuck this world is, and always was, so very enlightening⦠but I still wish and hope and long for the day when I get to go to my own gallery opening, or rather, my exhibition preview, as a poet and installation artist - merging my words with strong visuals, because words today, they are not strong on their own anymore and people entrust them with much less power. I look forward to finishing my masterās degree, then getting a part-time job (and hopefully still have enough to live off) so that I can also focus on my art. I am hoping that by the end of my degree, I will be well enlightened by the issues pertaining to politics, international and social affairs so that I can assert my stance through my art with more validation and determination. Of course, a lot of it depends on how much I take out of the course. I try to give my best. I want to bridge the gap between politics and art. That is me. My passion is art in the forms of poetry, music, literature and installations. And as for politics and international relations, well, I am Iranian, and as the film director/artist Shirin Neshat stated very wisely, no matter what an Iranian does, politics will always be part of it.
Like You
I'm only human Please just understand I will never be like you Believe me when I say We're not that different I'll never be like you We both like to eat But whether soy or broccoli I'll never be like you Please believe me it's true We both have eyes But I'll never be like you Human, compassion, dignity Which one is you I'll never be like you Hatred, anger, resentment, Only one if you choose But me, I'll never be like you. Running, swimming, jumping We'll get there eventually But never like me, you won't Fight for your rights Break invisible barriers Like me. Believe me, We both have eyes But I choose to see.
Man made power
Stood like a tower
Higher, higher, hello
And the higher you go, you feel lower
How to Love
you say you love me but I know you know we know you don't mean it that way. Iām your sweet cute friend, the one you're so proud of for doing things not perceived as ānormal for someone else in my shoes - I mean wheels.
there comes a time when the amazement and admiration for me feels almost patronising, demeaning my achievements because no way I couldn't do them without being a badass you say? Well no, you see, there are people just like me, struggling to make someone out of themselves in this life itās hard on all of us, maybe Iāll cut me a sliver of your admiration, yes, I do have it harder than you because of my physicality but no I do not strive for a better life so you can sit back and admire me because Iām an exception.
Itās sad to see young lives being burnt to ashes by the guilt of expectations and aspirations too far away or too high to reach. The worst part is knowing you can achieve all your goals if you let go of othersā expectations of you. Whatās the difference to happiness if you're big or small, abled or not, black or white?
Weāre all in this together, for better or for worse, united in one spirit, till death do us āpart but weāre too afraid to say we love.
Have yourself a very joyful #yeldamas šš #yelda #christmas #happyholidays #happywintersolstice šš (at Grand Duchy of Luxembourg)
āThe whole aim of practical politics is to keep the populace alarmed - and hence clamorous to be led to safety - by menacing it with an endless Ā series of hobgoblins, all of them imaginary.ā .. (H.L. Mencken)
Thoughts
blank in my mind blank in my speech blank in my thoughts all blank everything all you tell bores holes of deep thoughts within me your words, like drills in my mind but thereās no oil in there you see you look for me to back you up in your speech yet my mind, is blank. Extracted of all its golden thoughts of youth and harmony. Itās silent, grown to feel numb. Inside this vault I used to call my happy place, my home. now I stumble and trip on these holes You robbed me of my thoughts.
- not wise, weāre all victims of our own misjudgments -
You needed help, instead you got married. You wanted to impress your dad with a great job, to make him notice you, but time was ahead of you. Lagging behind, each dragging your baggage as you go along, stopping only to sew the clutter back in unison, or a resting place on the journey. but you hold onto them for support, ragged, heavy and burdensome, Looking for forlorn memories, clues, possible answers to disguise the newer issues, among them, how you got to here? Only time will heal you, but you choose to hang on to the smell of yesterdayās flowers withered scents of wistfulĀ days, Itās only natural your nose canāt smell the sweetness of today.
š
šš¼
Day 98 of 111. āļø #TheLittleBookOfLight #ReadWithMF #Awake xo
Why is poetry seen as a ālowerā caste job than studying theories on who gets to bomb who? I thought words had the power to change ideas, create notions and blast nonsense into the world... Poetry, the underrated daughter of language, if only for a minute, consider, how life would be different if words were mathematical junctures, prepositioned to mean one thing and only one
only a sign of hope only a call for humanity only a prison within the mind
lost in a maze of mystical traps built on blocks of knowledge upon blocks of knowledge. Consider, thus, the flaws of poetry to the political mind indoctrinated with second hand words filled in the woody enclave of ideas, knowledge,Ā preponderance.
not to be dissing the age-old social study, but is it even a case to argue, wherever you are, whether life can be generated by blossoming words, creating a garden within the mind? Or is it degenerating, premature, a re-utterance of pre-considered ideas?
Like a renewing scheme for old plastic bags, are these rusty blocks made to match the money-making industriesā complexly driven free food for thought?
I'll be under here š¤ #mughaltent (at Victoria and Albert Museum)