All Writings

 Her Hands 

by Faria   


Her hands resemble the most picture perfect image of what a women hands should be, to me personally.

Call me biased, call me selective.      

Her hands are always cold, and i wish i could always warm them.      

They’re fragile and petite, delicate..soft, and pale, but pale on the scale of skin tones where pale is the fairest shade, with nails perfectly trimmed, and nail varnish called marshmallow coated to perfection with no bumps, and a smooth touch.       

I’ve watched her hands carry sorrow till it dropped, for there’s only so much one can carry till gravity takes its toll. I’ve watched her hands create music from misery, using nothing but her petite fingers and an imaginary tapestry.

Those same hands fed me, bred me, carried me when i was tired, held me tight when i was scared, put sunblock on my nose, and brushed and combed my curly hair, without hurting me. for only her hands know how to handle me.      

Those hands fed me fruits and cheese, and held my hand when i crossed the street…they waved goodbye when i got dropped off at school, and they wrote down words that i one day will pass on to my own daughter.      

These hands are the hands of my own mother.       

Her hands have endured far more than what they should. I tell you all, these hands are a miracle.

They keep clean and nicely trimmed, even when they’ve been dealing with dirt and unfair men, for my mother an agriculture, worked day and night in the fields…yet never did I ever, see her nails lose they’re shine, and never did she ever forget to intertwine her hands in mine, before i went to bed.     

Even when she drove and I was sitting beside her, she made it a point to grasp my hand tighter, before she dropped me off and parted in her own direction. She’d stroke my back to help me fall asleep, and run her fingers through my hair till she fell asleep.   

Her hands…her hands, they smell like the perfume one I can forever consume, because as soon as I inhale, I am safe and content.  

It’s wondrous how much I can say about her hands      

Her hands, her hands, have been through too much, yet she holds herself high and with them brushes it off. Her hands have wiped her tears as soon as she heard my footsteps approach her doorstep, never allowing me to see her breakdown, she’d use her tears to wash her face, replace the sadness with a smile, to make me feel like everything’s okay.     

Her hands, as soft as the skin on her cheek.      

They have endured struggles no man will speak. With those same hands, she said ‘I do’ and 15 years down the line, it was just me and you, in our flat, that with her hands, she got on her own, and with those hands, she built us a home.    

With those hands, she ignored the stares, the glares from men, when she showed up on her own to wherever she had to be, living in an Arab country, men look abruptly…especially at a women with her beauty.

I always use to worry.       

Her hands have shaken hands of dreamers, and made them believers for she has the ability to touch others simply with her hands. Her hands don’t only create life in soil, but paint and write and heal others. Her hands never stop moving, or learning.

She is now in her 50’s and she’s still growing up to be, everything she wished to be.      

A single mother was not planned, but she created a default plan, and look at her now, after this journey she’s been through, her hands are still looking brand new.    

My hands…my hands will never look like hers. My skin color differs, and my nails are coarse, un-lady like, with scars and scabs…My mothers hands could never look that bad.     

One day my mother, and by one day I mean now, I will attempt to give to you what you gave to me, and altogether us three, your children.     

I want my hands to hold your head close to my heart, as you listen to my heartbeat, because as long as its beating I will be right by your side, to serve you and hold you high…and when your hands get weaker, mine will support them, and when your hands get tired…mine will hold them.

28th August 2015

Tree Soul

Love is in the Heel

by Tree Soul

The most perfect thingto look at, walk in and to begin -a new day, a new life.

The Sex is in the heel,the heel is made of steel.

But for me its not about the heel or the steel its simply about how they make me feel.

Satisfaction ..this new reaction. Showing up and showing off to do and feel this is don’t need no Smirnoff. Let me drag you into a unseen world. Where i am the Queen cause the King..I have been.

28th November 2015

New World

by Tree Soul

Look what we have become,

This facing down community. Missing whats going on up there in the world

Look what we have become, using only one hand when we where born with two. Is that what we want to become? Is that really it?

Seeing the sunrise but honestly you didn’t notice yet, did you? Waking up and already consuming the negativities from around the globe, its all about Buts and Tits, likes and hits.

We are getting smaller but since when were we actually taller-you are swiping faster left then right then your brain can actually decide.

The right person is probably right next to you but you don’t have a clue. Who are you? That hot chick from the pic or that nature loving dreamer you have always been?

This world doesn’t exist anymore, only in my dream. Writing letters to impress is less important than a ASOS dress, you don’t fit in.

People 20 years ago actually walked the street listening to a different beat.

You traveled to meet and not to compete a photo competition. Pay attention in the morning and you find yourself looking at people but none looking back at you, facing a screen 583022 million times smaller than this amazing world

There is a World around You, Full of Jokes and Real Humans. Maybe Take a look                                                                                      November 21st 2015


By Tree Soul

Having a little hope, Hope in yourself or by yourself or simply in your surroundings.

Lately it hasn’t been easy…In 2015 – we lost a lot but we keep growing day by day and the harder it will get, the more we bond and appreciate.

We will not let anyone else take over our ability to control ourselves. Living in a world where many things are going completely wrong and it seems like all we can do is pray…”standing here, watching it”.

Yes, that is what we have become but if we CAN’T stand it, we are the only ones who can make a change. Standing strong is what we will be doing.

Standing strong for each other…One by one we will build up and at the end we will be the last ones standing, singing and praying together side by side, the hummingbirds lead the melody and our voices will be heard.

We are who we are and where we are because we are strong, because someone believes in us.

16th of November 2015

It’s Been One of Those Days

It’s been one of those days when even phoning a stranger for a quick conversation cheered me up. Dropped my bag and the only person offering to help me is a fully packed Mum who already has too much to doIt’s been one of those days where I’d go back to say “thank you” to a coffee server a second time…just to make sure she saw me as a thankful, nice person and heard that I meant every word. She might have needed a thank you too.It’s been one of those days when even lifting my head took too much effort and hurt my heart. Where the world spun far too fast for my thoughts to keep up, and I felt dizzy.

Dizzy partly for trying to help everyone elses troubles and partly because it seems You always demand more of my best. Can’t you just be happy with me and my efforts.

Can’t you just say thank you like the pretty coffee lady.

All I’m thinking of is your forever happiness and how best to serve your smile. When you already know that you are harder to track than the clouds that pass my bed. Catching clouds is so impossible and a cold forms over my hands the more I try.It’s been one of those days when the crowded places on earth left me hanging scared of someone seeing through my smile. My smile is more often than not fully real…which is important.

One of those days when I could hear my thoughts banging and bashing like footsteps that don’t exist outside my door and while I was asleep, I dreamt of you fighting the monsters under your bed. Why the fuck are you in my sleep too. Go away and get out of my dreams if you don’t want to be in my real world.

So my resting place of sleep and slumber, of protection in covers has been stained by lumber, to corrections in my lovers”Bed” has turned into a place of regrets…and that hurts my heart more than my head.

Leaving things behind, easy access to sadness and much more of these dark corners to find. Maybe its just the change outside, the early hours and the feeling of losing.The coldness creeping in before you even begin.

Fuck it, It’s just been one of those days…Tomorrow will come and I’ll call you again.Hi pet, it’s me…are you there? That’s what I’ll say…Or will maybe something else…hmmm

October 30th 2015

If This Is Life

by Tree Soul (dedicated to Nicole for being a lovely person)

If this is life…or maybeif this could be a dreaming life…The world you wish for is the one you’d like to see and it can be if one thinks it’s soLife seems to me to be a counterbalance,

Maybe in a good way, I think one can say

If it’s balanced one always wants more,When it’s slightly off you try to again to score

But why on earth do we always ask for more

Slight Weakness can make you mad, that’s just first born pressure or last born guidance,madness can turn to badness or sadnessand at the end I harness myself in and often find myself shirtlesson the highest mountain range or bottomless the deepest river,

Cutching or clutching myself or another or turning others to cwtch together or just catching up because I left them for complete control of my own circumstance.

Its always careless when you do the jobs too quickly alone because I manage to lose everything to hold on to on the way up to gain the worlds adoration

The way up is the hardest part I think but worth the walk in the end, worth all the pain and commitment you’d  think…But is it? Is this the Life?Losing oneself and who you are is like losing ones focus.

That nasty fingerprint on your lens.The more you clean it, the more you see it. But that dirt was put there by the walk Some things just are dirty, grafting is beautiful and hard, some things are common sense

But what does count..What does it matter at the end of the day…Because at the end of this dream,

At the end of this day, people will only remember how nice and considerate I was to them and to others.

And to be lonely is boring.October 22nd 2015

WindbreakerThere’s a glass between me and the open sea.I find myself standing, holding on- the wind is to strong.My thoughts banging from left to right but actually I’m just standing here drinking enjoying the nightIf I could open up the glass to let go of my thoughts in a woodI Would … If I Could.Breathtaking moments are waiting ahead but before I even dream about it, I bury them and hold back…The windbreaker between me and reality,The wall between pretend and who i wanna be.Every secondI can see what is waiting ahead,Every other secondI just follow a routine, ignoring it and I do believe that it’s not that badAnyway, I know that SomedayI will take away the windbreaker,And be ready to take off…not fall offUntil then I just enjoy the wind ruining my hair..Well to be honest “I just don’t care”October 15th 2015Finding… YouBy Tree SoulRight from the start I knew that I was different.But being different isn’t bad.. its’ just hard work..Making people believe every daySome believe on in god and some simply pray.Life is like a rainbowAt least it is because I say so,Find your favorite colourand the rest will find youThis is me,This is lifeand it will be alright..Because i decided to win this fightThey tell you that the grass is greener on the other sidethat u need to fly to touch the skyYou know what i say to when i hear all that:IT´S MY LIFEI decide which way to go,I will make it but I if I want to go slow..take a step or take a breakBut wherever I go I’ll be awakeI touched the edgeand I do not wish go back,Even the dark side is more than just black…You will see it, when you get there…a Rainbow                                                                                                     17th September 2015Blue SkyBy Tree SoulBlue sky,a clear blue sky-thats how i imagine Life.Being free as a bird can be,leaning into this nice summer breeze,controlled only by Life.Learning to land,without touching the groundchewing some leafs cause i like the sound,the taste, cause i don´t like to waste.. a single moment of life.Blue skyten feet too high, but a second to late. September 10th 2015

Sunday Blues

By Tree Soul

It´s another Lonely Sunday.

You don’t know where to start, You wish your second half isn’t that far away…You start counting days,you want it all, to just a walk, 10 minutes or a talk.

Do i need a reason to have you here, i want these monsters at night to dissappear. Even for a fight that would be alright – because i want you here, here by my side. I want you closer, I want this closer,

This could be so much bigger

I have dreamed of touching the skyI have hoped to reach for more and i know that i’m not the only one.

I’m out on the streets, down on my knees, I am ready to show you the fragment which I see.

I booked two tickets to save this dreamall you need to do is.. believe

Because I’m full of hope, I give it my all.If i can’t bring home the moon for you, i will bring you the stars.

Day after day.

September 3rd 2015

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