Dealing With Demons on YouTube

Posted on October 8, 2020 by Karima Hoisan

Hi everyone,

I wrote this poem and made a soundtrack last December in 2019,
and very few people clicked to listen to it…so I am re-posting it as a YouTube, with some pretty amazing images by Omar Rayyan who along with the music,  by Suduaya inspired my writing this.  This is pretty dark, but also carries some sound advice and a happy ending:)  Enjoy it. Turn up the volume! For those who can’t understand all the words, or for translation purposes, I will write out the poem below.

If only love can kill a demon;
only love can cure a demon,
all those lashing tails and tongues
snapping at your heels.
If you run, they’ll chase you…..
If you stand your ground, they’ll eat you,
but if you love them, you can stop them in their tracks.
Extract their fangs!
Clip their claws!
Close their eyes!
Pin their jaws!
And hug them tight,
without hurting them at all!
They’re wounded….
Hug them like a tango
Hug them with a whisper in their ear!
Hug them like you’ve loved them all your life!
Hug them with commitment and No Fear!

They’ll be…
Falling at your feet,
Bowing down upon the ground
Humbled, tamed and changed.
Hear their voices, they’ll tell you,
“I need help,”
such a plaintive evil voice,
“I need your help”
“I can’t do it alone.”
If you are who you say you are,
it should be easy….
Easy to forgive their scales and barbed tails
Easy to forget; they almost killed you, betrayed you, maligned your name.
But, when you loved them anyway,
They could no longer slay you..eat you alive, steam roll over you
They could not scare the pale halo off of you,
that’s floating round your head.

Only love can cure a demon
Only the touch of an innocent can change dark alchemy into spun gold manes.
Can you imagine being like them?
Trapped in their malignancy depraved?
Stroke them, give them hope,
Whisper, “It will be all right..the sun will rise on the other side for you”
Then….make them spin…spin in all benevolence!
Spin them until they’re dizzy with being cherished and held dear!
How they start to smooth..and soften those hard edges
horns falling off as you spin them faster ‘n faster.
Turn them into puffs and cream, turn them into rainbow dreams.
Make them your puppy dog that follows you day and night.
Make them mirror all the goodness they received.
Make them believe..if only they believe
that love is stronger than anything they can achieve!
Only love can cure a demon.
It’s the only way.
Only love from an innocent heart
can disarm the beast..and make him meek
so they too can inherit the earth
the afterlife
all the worlds to come.
Only love can kill a demon… true
Only love can cure a demon… too!
Don’t kill the demon; give it a second chance!
Only love can cure a demon!
Only love can cure a demon!

Karima Hoisan
December 30, 2019
Costa Rica

 

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Brakeman on the Tracks

Posted on October 7, 2020 by Karima Hoisan

pexels-photo-2440493

I feel the Big Bang pushing from behind
so there is no staying still.
I got on this train my very first day,
and I’m still riding.
It’s taking me further out into the universe…
I know it’s really pushing systems and planets,
much bigger than me,
but I feel its heat blowing on the back of my neck.
It makes me go on sometimes,
even when I don’t want to;
all I can do is move forward, continually.
There is no swimming against the stream,
no standing still and saying I’m done changing;
I’m done moving, I will not take a sunrise today,
just leave my room in moonlight
and stop the universe in its kinetic loop,
pushing us forward, on our marathon journey,
through the stars… the months,
the deaths and births we see and touch
along our way….

Well… until death gets our attention
or knocks on our window
and pushes us through to another side;
where I imagine we do continue moving forward,
unless of course we just fall into the dreamless sleep.
When Death stops my train like a brakeman on the tracks.
I wonder if I will be ready, or caught off guard
in my star-burst ballet and just drop to the floor
more surprised than accepting?
I would hope, I could be gracious, right up to the end,
look Death in the face, smiling, because,
“What a run it all has been!”
Instead of fear and pleading,
pure gratitude and surrender…
and wave to him, to just climb on in.

Karima Hoisan
October 7, 2020
Costa Rica

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Thank You To Spillwords Press for accepting my first poem, “In The Moment,” for publication

Posted on September 30, 2020 by Karima Hoisan

Spillwords.com-Logo 2

I am honored and excited to have my first poem, “In The Moment,”
(originally titled here,”Frozen In The Moment”) accepted for publication in their prestigious press. You can see the link below – review stars are welcome 🙏
I am a newcomer to their site, so I appreciate if you would click and read it there:)
Thank you to everyone who has been so encouraging to me!
https://spillwords.com/in-the-moment/

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At The Beach

Posted on September 29, 2020 by Karima Hoisan

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                                                                  photo by Poett

At The Beach
for Poett
When the clouds and waves agree
to coordinate their colors
and the sky illuminates the glowing sea
of Neptune’s shiny floor,
you can expect to ride upon
it’s brackish sweet sea breeze,
its endless steel-blue ocean swells
that die against the shore

When tears and pain begin to float away,
because this beach is so unique
and it won’t let you cry,
Allow yourself this moment,
that’s been waiting here so long
and gather what it’s showing you
to treasure deep inside.

The healing’s coming quickly now;
it enters like an ocean surge
through your astonished eyes
and all that vast expanse of trees
and seashore views you see,
begin to penetrate your depths
letting all the drama- trauma
float away, and be lost to fossilize.

Just then, a black horse enters,
from the right side of the scene,
a black horse on its own
just walking along the shore;
a work of art, his stallion stance
against those faded blue jean skies;
praise his ebony graceful frame ,
his awareness, gaze and size!
As you stare right back at him amazed;
he trots off down the rocky beach,
and disappears before your eyes.

Karima Hoisan
September 29, 2020
Costa Rica

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Beautifully Loved and Signed

Posted on September 28, 2020 by Karima Hoisan

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Beautifully Loved and Signed

The poem leaped in delight,
because she was exactly
the one, for him to be born,
this girl with the light steps and kind ways
the sparking eyes,
the chiseled profile,
the noble face.

It lived in a loop
of sparkling eyes
and profiles
repeating its unfinished lines
The poet kept the poem in a journal
destined for her
never completed
and never signed.

The poet always doubted
how to end it
left a bit more to say,
always waiting for another day
so the poem was not born.

By their footsteps it knew
that he came walking
with her, holding hands,
and they moved to his journal,
where the poem was laying
and its poetic soul leaped into the air.

The poem felt the pen
upon the skin of its paper,
and it smiled
and it knew it was its time..
When the poet signed it
“I’ll love you forever Julia”,
the poem fell into a swoon.
The poet placed it in her hands
and she read it slowly out loud,
with joyous tears falling down
and the tears touched the poem
until it sparked into life
now wholly complete,
finally born into the world…
so beautifully loved and signed.

Karima Hoisan
September 27, 2020
Costa Rica

(En Español)

Bellamente amado y firmado

El poema saltó de alegría,
porque ella era exactamente
para quien, él iba a nacer,
esta chica de pasos ligeros y amabilidad
los ojos chispeantes,
el perfil cincelado,
el rostro noble.

Vivía en un bucle
de ojos chispeantes
y perfiles
repitiendo sus líneas inconclusas
El poeta guardó el poema en un diario.
destinado para ella
nunca completado
y nunca firmado.

El poeta siempre dudó
como terminarlo
dejó un poco más que decir,
siempre esperando otro dia
entonces el poema no nacía.

Por sus pasos supo
que vino caminando
con ella, tomados de la mano,
y se trasladaron a su diario;
donde estaba el poema
y su alma poética saltó por los aires.

El poema sintió la pluma
sobre la piel de su papel,
y sonrió
y sabía que era el momento …
Cuando el poeta lo firmó
“Te amaré pora siempre Julia”,
el poema se desmayó.
El poeta lo puso en sus manos
y ella lo leyó lentamente en voz alta,
con lágrimas de alegría cayendo
y las lagrimas tocaron el poema
hasta que cobró vida
ahora completamente completo,
finalmente nació en el mundo….
tan bellamente amado y firmado.

Karima Hoisan
27 de septiembre de 2020
Costa Rica

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Enigmatic

Posted on September 24, 2020 by Karima Hoisan

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Enigmatic

What’s flying around in your head today,
Clear open skies or fog?
So hard to tell from staring into your eyes..
They say, the eyes are the doorway to the soul,
but yours are more the gatekeeper, the keep-out sign.

I feel like a biologist in exploration, an intrepid diver.
If I reach your depths, will I know anything more?
Maybe your deep parts don’t exist and I just hope they do.
So I try to peer into your murky shallows, your tide pools,
watch boring colorless fish and not make waves, or kick up the sand.

Have I just fabricated you, molded you into an image that I love?
One that is an enigma, promising treasure if I don’t give up?
Is the real you much less than the coat of brilliance I apply?
The sulky aloofness, is not in you, but in the wish of my own eyes.
I walk around a closed statue, that gives not a hint and says, “Sold”

Who bought you before me? Did someone find you, then walk away?
Your past is a library of unopened books, a dusty trail to nowhere.
That is where I will wind up too, if I don’t just walk away from you.
The mystery man, I have written into being, is something less than reality
I really don’t care what is flying in your head, I think it does not include me.

Karima Hoisan
Sept. 24th 2020
Costa Rica

(en Español)

Enigmático

¿Qué está volando por la cabeza hoy?
¿Cielos despejados o niebla?
Tan difícil de decir por mirarte a los ojos …
Dicen que los ojos son la puerta del alma
pero los tuyos son más el portero, el rótulo que no hay paso.

Me siento un biólogo en exploración, un buceador intrépido.
Si llego a tus profundidades, ¿sabré algo más?
Quizás tus partes profundas no existan y solo espero que sí.
Así que trato de mirar en tus turbios bajíos, tus charcos de marea
de aburridos peces incolorosos y no hacer olas, ni patear la arena.

¿Te acabo de fabricar, te moldeé en una imagen que amo?
¿Uno que es un enigma, un tesoro prometedor si no me rindo?
¿El verdadero tú es mucho menor que la capa de brillo que aplico?
La indiferencia misteriosa no está en ti, sino en el deseo de mis propios ojos.
Camino alrededor de una estatua cerrada, que no da una pista y dice “Vendido”

¿Quién te compró antes que yo? ¿Alguien te encontró y luego se fue?
Tu pasado es una biblioteca de libros sin abrir, un camino polvoriento hacia ninguna parte.
Ahí es donde terminaré yo también, si no me alejo de ti.
El hombre impenetrable, he escrito en existencia, es algo menos que la realidad.
Realmente no me importa lo que esté volando en tu cabeza, pienso que no me incluye a mí.

Karima Hoisan
24 de septiembre de 2020
Costa Rica

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The Swamp House

Posted on September 21, 2020 by Karima Hoisan

For something a little different, I will repost “The Swamp House,”  an original poem and music written and performed by me (Karima Hoisan.) It is an audio track not an actual video. I decided to make it as a spoken word performance, instead of a machinima.
I urge you to please open the YouTube so you can hear it recited and the Delta Blues music I composed to go with it. Tell me if you think it works together:)
Comments and questions are welcome! Enjoy your walk in the Swamp!😨

Here are the lyrics:,
The Swamp House

Wading to the front door in thigh high boots,
the night falling to the ground before my eyes.
Anything I could imagine, could be imagining me,
I just wipe it from my mind, all that paranoid debris.

Passion is the flame that lights my way.
I let my intuition call me out tonight.
It’s too dark now, to see my hands in front of me;
The mud’s like quick sand, sucking and pulling at my feet.

But…there’s a light on, you left it on the porch so I could see.
I didn’t even have to let you know, because it’s on every night.
Just in case I feel you and your Swamp House calling me…
Just in case I get the urge to live a little dangerously…

Just in case I feel you and your Swamp House calling me…
Just in case I get the urge to live a little dangerously…

Pushing through the thicket, the moldy leaves of fallen trees
that pungent night-time smell of rotting fruit on steamy breeze.
I know this path like I know my winding, twisting destiny;
I know, you’ll be standing in the doorway, expecting me.

You know I’d only do this for you, my secret, my muse,
and you surprise me every time with where you want to meet.
I go all reckless when I think you want me as your guest again,
Just 1/4 mile of swamp is left, until we’ll write the rest and then…

But…there’s a light on, you left it on the porch so I could see.
I didn’t even have to let you know, because it’s on every night.
Just in case I feel you and your Swamp House calling me…
Just in case I get the urge to live a little dangerously…

Just in case I feel you and your Swamp House calling me…
Just in case I get the urge to live a little dangerously…

Karima Hoisan
Nov. 10th 2018
Costa Rica

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Oh To Be A Vulture

Posted on September 20, 2020 by Karima Hoisan

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Oh To Be A Vulture

==========================

 Oh to be a vulture
glide easily on wind,
painting circles without effort,
capturing the updraft
perhaps,
hiding in a low cloud
and then…
It would be I,
that tiny black
rotating spot
reflected in my
grounded,
envious,
eyes.

With every breeze,
I would do it 
all over again.

The foulest carrion
becomes
 a roadside
fast-food
delight.
My plumed ailerons
lifting,
tacking
on  each
contrary breeze;
while I dodge
to my advantage,
sky’s the limit
for each flight.

My acute sense
would smell the call
to recycle
dead flesh.
Never flinching,
always willing 
I’d submit.
Now, it’s my 
fresh bread,
pie-in the-oven,
olfactory buffet.
My role in life
defined,
I’d never quit.

After dining,
perching with
other feathers
of my kind,
no need to chatter,
bellies full,
our comprehension,
subtle and sublime.
I’d be the one
nodding
to my partner,
as winds
change and 
 leaves rustle;
Air swirls, at take-off time.
“Meet you at the
top of the crest,”
push off and out,
rising, 
circling
higher,
wider
just for the 
Joy
the
 Luck,
that I was now
A Vulture.

Karima Hoisan
May 7, 2007
Costa Rica

*Re-requested by Hoyt:)

(En Español)

Oh, ser un buitre
deslizarse fácilmente en el viento,
pintando círculos sin esfuerzo,
capturando la corriente ascendente
quizás,
escondido en una nube baja
y entonces…
Sería yo
ese pequeño negro
punto giratorio
reflejado en mis ojos,
envidiosos
atados a la tierra,

Con cada brisa
Yo lo haría
todo de nuevo.

La carroña más sucia
se convierte en
un borde de la carretera
comida rápida
deleite.
Mis alerones emplumados
levantamiento,
virar
en cada
brisa contraria;
mientras esquivo
a mi favor,
el cielo es el límite
para cada vuelo.

Mi sentido agudo
olería la llamada
reciclar
carne muerta.
Nunca estremeciéndose
siempre dispuesto
Yo enviaría.
Ahora es mi
pan fresco,
pastel en el horno,
buffet olfativo.
Mi papel en la vida
definido
Nunca me rendiría.

Después de cenar,
posarse con
otras plumas
de mi especie,
no hay necesidad de charlar,
vientres llenos,
nuestra comprensión,
sutil y sublime.
Yo seria el indicado
cabeceo
a mi pareja,
como vientos
cambiar y
susurro de hojas;
Remolinos de aire, en el momento del despegue.
“Nos vemos en el
parte superior de la cresta “
empujar y sacar,
creciente,
dando vueltas
mayor,
más amplio
solo para el
Alegría
el
Suerte,
que yo era ahora
Un Buitre.

Karima Hoisan
7 de mayo de 2007
Costa Rica
 
 
 
  

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A Net Full of Eels

Posted on September 19, 2020 by Karima Hoisan

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A Net Full of Eels
For Hoyt

Slippery eels sliding
through the net holes
the mesh,
somewhat large,
it can’t contain them all.
Suspended,
how they eye the water world
of survival far below.
With all their strength and agility,
they wriggle out of certain death,
in their quest to live,
they choose the desperate fall.

Many upon many cascade
in painful belly flops.
They beat the water
with their blackened forms.
Some gracefully,
like rigid,
high-dive athletes,
push through head first,
puncture the ocean surface clean
breaking every written
record, barrier – norm.

It is so painful
to watch their struggle end.
I root for all of them
to make it through.
But, some have succumbed
to being out too long.
The sun is hot,
the distant drop
into their element, the water,
would be an agonizing death
if not done soon.

I am more amazed
than repulsed
by what I see,
for their slithering,
brings out
primal anxiety,
and makes me shake.
Still, a small compassion
rooted deep inside of me,
stirs, as on the docks
they start to fade and bake.

“Oh Allah bless the fortunate
who never knew the net.”
“Bless those, who grew in strength,
and made it safely home.”
“Bless the ones caught up,
who never could escape “

Karima Hoisan
July 9, 2007
Costa Rica


(En Español)

Una Red llena de Anguilas
Para Hoyt

Anguilas resbaladizas deslizándose
a través de los agujeros de la red
la malla,
algo grande,
no puede contenerlos a todos.
Suspendido,
cómo miran el mundo del agua
de supervivencia muy por debajo.
Con toda su fuerza y agilidad,
se escabullen de una muerte segura,
en su afán por vivir,
eligen la caída desesperada.

Muchos sobre muchos cascadas
en dolorosos desplomes del vientre.
Batieron el agua
con sus formas ennegrecidas.
Algunos con gracia
como rígido,
atletas de alto buceo,
empujar a través de la cabeza primero,
perforar la superficie del océano limpia
rompiendo cada escrito
registro, barrera – norma.

Es tan doloroso
para ver el final de su lucha.
Yo apoyo a todos ellos
para lograrlo.
Pero algunos han sucumbido
a estar fuera demasiado tiempo.
El sol está caliente
la caída distante
en su elemento, el agua,
sería una muerte agonizante
si no se hace pronto.

Estoy mas asombrada
que repugnada
por lo que veo,
por su deslizamiento,
lleva a cabo
ansiedad primaria,
y me hace temblar.
Aún así, una pequeña compasión
arraigado en lo profundo de mí,
se agita, como en los muelles
comienzan a desvanecerse y hornearse.

“Oh, Allah bendiga a los afortunados
que nunca conocía la red “.
“Bendice a los que crecieron en fuerza,
y regresaron sano y salvo a casa “.
“Benditos los atrapados,
que nunca pudieron escapar “

Karima Hoisan
9 de Julio de 2007
Costa Rica

Posted in General Discussion, Poems, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , | 25 Comments

Between 4 & 5 am_Three Poetic Prose Vignettes

Posted on September 18, 2020 by Karima Hoisan

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                                                    Photo Taken by Hoyt Heron

The bakers arrive and start the mixing and the lighting of the fire.
Soon the oven will bellow, as the dough is patted, stretched so round.
It will be fed on flat shovels to the hottest deepest roaring core.
Not too long, just enough for the browning to be done,
then a flip on to its other side and there they come.
Little pitas, hot to touch, delicious for the senses; they perfume
the entire room and wait for the first customers to snatch them up in plastic
 bags, a dozen at a time, while daylight glows behind the bakery…
 igniting the first rays of dawn.

≤≤≤_ ≥≥≥≤≤≤_ ≥≥≥≤≤≤_ ≥≥≥

A man and his son awaken with the fajar call to prayer.
It rumbles across the window frames, and makes them open
wide their eyes and listen, as it fills their ears and their dreams fade away.
They take turns in their ritual washing the cleansing and preparing
and in the chill of the early morning, they lay down their rugs
They say the words out loud, the father leads the son
as they repeat the ritual, for them, done 5 times a day,
done in heat and cold, done and synced as one, for every day of every year,
so naturally and spontaneously, an essential part of living…. like breathing

≤≤≤_ ≥≥≥≤≤≤_ ≥≥≥≤≤≤_ ≥≥≥

Across the sea in San Diego, people are gathering on the shore
The sun has yet to break the horizon, but that’s the perfect time
to light their little beacons attached now to their waists and in the foggy morning, against the grey suede sky, they slip into the water, and their lanterns bob and flicker as they push out in the waves..all the shimmering colors., like small boats afloat, a flotilla of long strokes, a human parade of swimmers, bound and tied together with just their love of ocean , their colors showing, each a lighthouse to the other, each a comfort when they raise their heads and see the colored lanterns riding high the waves, each tied to a swimmer’s waist… ahead and behind and to the sides.
And from the shore all you see, is a miraculous sea creature of glowing colors,
surfing the waves before dawn.

Karima Hoisan
September 17, 2020
Costa Rica

 
 

Llegan los panaderos y comienzan a mezclar y encender el fuego.
Pronto el horno bramará, mientras se palmea la masa, estirada de forma redonda.
Se alimentará con palas planas hasta el núcleo rugiente más profundo y caliente.
No demasiado, solo lo suficiente para que se dore,
luego una vuelta a su otro lado y ahí vienen.
Pequeñas pitas, calientes al tacto, deliciosas para los sentidos; ellos perfuman
toda la habitación y esperar a que los primeros clientes los recojan en bolsas
plasticas, una docena a la vez, mientras la luz del día brilla detrás de la panadería …
encendiendo los primeros rayos del amanecer.

≤≤≤_ ≥≥≥≤≤≤_ ≥≥≥≤≤≤_ ≥≥≥

Un hombre y su hijo se despiertan con el fajar llamado a la oración.
Ruge a través de los marcos de las ventanas y los abre
abren los ojos y escuchan, mientras llena sus oídos y sus sueños se desvanecen.
Se turnan en su ritual de lavar la limpieza y preparar
y en el frío de la madrugada, colocan sus alfombras
Dicen las palabras en voz alta, el padre guía al hijo
mientras repiten el ritual, para ellos, lo hacen 5 veces al día,
hecho en calor y frío, hecho y sincronizado como uno, para todos los días de cada año,
tan natural y espontáneamente, una parte esencial de la vida … como respirar

≤≤≤_ ≥≥≥≤≤≤_ ≥≥≥≤≤≤_ ≥≥≥

Al otro lado del mar en San Diego, la gente se está reuniendo en la orilla
El sol aún tiene que romper el horizonte, pero ese es el momento perfecto
para encender sus pequeñas balizas atadas ahora a sus cinturas y en la mañana brumosa, contra el cielo de gamuza gris, se deslizan en el agua, y sus linternas se agitan y parpadean mientras se empujan en las olas … todos los colores brillantes., como botes pequeños a flote, una flotilla de brazadas largas, un desfile humano de nadadores, atados y atados entre sí con solo su amor por el océano, sus colores mostrando, cada uno un faro al otro, cada uno un consuelo cuando levantan la cabeza y ven el color linternas que se elevan sobre las olas, cada una atada a la cintura de un nadador … adelante, atrás y a los lados.
Y desde la orilla todo lo que ves es una criatura marina milagrosa de colores brillantes,
surfeando las olas antes del amanecer.

Karima Hoisan
17 de septiembre de 2020
Costa Rica

 
 
 
 

Posted in General Discussion, Poems, Prose Vignettes, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , | 12 Comments