BintElJunub

Thumping thudding heart beat pulls me out of the swamp that is the night and sleep..

in a sweaty fright I gasp for air, beads of salty liquid roll down a bitter face,

just as the slimy waters of a bog would, a dysmorphic mirror of the delicate tears of my

victims   

my mind and body lurch into consciousness, the heart and lungs struggling to catch up

heaving pitifully 

I am alone, here in the dark

Though I feel poached, 

Days and nights have passed as I continue to evade my fate

but in this dark, where all else is hidden, my guilt naked, bare

and on it’s knees

my teeth click against the barrel of a gun, my tongue tasting it’s powder… 

no one to pull the lever yet ever close is the click.

I wear my guilt like an invisible thirty pound cloak,

I wear my guilt like an invisible lynch,

and I wear my guilt like an invisible pillory 

the demons snicker at my ear, any light from the heavens only eats at my flesh

I am sick, the sickest kind of sick 

My soul securely fastened to the central pillar of the seventh layer of hell

Betrothed, am I, to the king of the underworld himself

Betrothed, am I, to lucifer.



This poem is about offenders: rapist, murders, etc. I believe their only fate is fiery eternal blaze.  

As they age

… grownups assert that all they need is companionship. I suspect that some yearn for more. I suspect some women yearn for adoration, to be regarded as precious gems, “My love, I see none other than you..”, and to have their ideas highly regarded… and I suspect that the men want to be the subject of devotion and refuge of their counterparts.. and what more? I don’t know..

Lacy Knickers

Is intellectualism in a pair of lacy knickers as sexy as the pair of lacy knickers? Or more sexy then the pair of lacy knickers? Or is naked intellectualism, without any knickers as all, the sexiest?  

Liars cannot preach to thieves

People can’t tell you what you are, and force you to accept it, and persecute you when you go against it. Everyone has the right to be who they’ve been born to be without a looming presence over there heads, making sure to remind them of their disapproval. Liars cannot be preachers to thieves. Someone can only decide that you are not right as you are after they’ve taken a firm look at themselves and assessed that everything about their being; their intentions, their behaviors, their personality— is pristine and perfect. Civilians cannot doctor the ill. Those with “illusions of grandeur”, righteousness, and superiority should not attempt to council those deemed lesser. 

DO not let them wrap their snake hands around your throat and keep you from breathing, lest they suffocate your essence. Burn that beautiful hue of you.. bleed that ungodly shade of green.. for you are meant to be. Do it unapologetically. 

drowning once again into a pot of refined amou

Writing is my sin, my sex, my gin. That which they’ve tried to suppress.. and me after them. Now I yearn for it’s solace.. in the back of an alley, in the blanket of the night, in the absence of onlookers..in the absence of light, concealed as honest business, I indulge upon my wine.. and matured to carnal need— if flesh give way to soul— pour out my heart to bleed, yet find my way home

Some days I think that I’m crazy for not seeing that I’m obviously I’m meant to write, and acting upon it.

I am so silly in trying to do anything else. My mother always talks about a famous Arabic actor who always wanted to act, but had to appease his family by going to law school (it may have been medical school). After receiving his degree he later went into acting and was very successful. He and his family were able to have their cake and eat it too, so to speak. My situation is similar in that I am equally passionate about art as I am about a future of serving to my native country South Sudan. The the later would elate my family, however that is not the only reason I am studying international relations/pre-law. I am doing it because God has set fire this passion in my heart, to ignore it would be treason to myself. So like that actor, I will do first what is necessary, and then pursue my “hobbies” or “talents” as secondary. 

my best friend

Good friends are so understated:

When you never have to explain yourself 

When you never have to repeat a joke and then explain it 

When your references are understood and not just dorky

When you argue about a sentence splice 

Then argue about whether that model in the magazine really is the model the other is Thinking of 

Then whether a band is experimental or instrumental 

When you both know embarrassing stuff that about one another that no one should really know except family 

When they’re so smart that your arrogant self never has to roll your eyes at them for being a simpleton 

When you both know your arrogant bastards selves are gonna take over the world 

When they’re awesome and talented

When you can say “I have an artist friend.”

When you can say one day, “Would you like to go to a gallery later? My bestfriend is an artist.”

When they can say, “I have an African friend.”

When they can one day say, “I’ve been to South Sudan, Uganda, and Kenya. My bestfriend is African.”

When to them you can be the sexist, gold digging, superficial bitch you really are… but they still seem to find you tolerable

Vlasic pickle Jars; no explanation needed.

When even their family members become an important part of your life  

When they use the phrase “This is just another classic Amou freakout…” and you realize that they seriously get you, like no one gets you..  

When a movie could be written about how awkward but awesome you two are 

When you bring good things into their life and they bring only good things to yours.. 

Nicolette of the palace… what can I say? her name speaks for its self 

Winter

Winter is my favorite season. 

I love the way she creeps upon unknowing hosts.. 

What’s a summer breeze becomes a autumn chill, 

An autumn chill becomes a winter wind and just like that she’s upon us again 

Just like that there she is whirling about us again

Madame Frost, Lady White, a coy smile, she’s cold as ice 

But different things are always misunderstood, 

She’s frigid at face, but pleasant in her own way. 

She refresshes me at least,

She gives an excuse for those who like to hide to do so unquestioned

She gives an excuse for lovers to hug close, in winter it’s not such a sin 

I love the lady, she always refreshes me. 

inhibited

I want to be uninhibited like I use to be. 

I want to stop saying no to things I should be saying yes to. 

I want to have fun and live life. I want to party and dance. I love to dance. 

What’s wrong with being sexy anyway? What’s wrong with a little drink?

I wanted to be uninhibited like I use to be. 

That hippy wannabe, that was me. She was BA. She was bout it bout it. 

I want to find a happy medium between being somebody who gets things done, 

but be someone who also lets them see her wild side (boy can I get wild)… 

I am going to let go of the reigns a little bit. I’m gonna act like I’m 21 a little bit. :) 

I’m going to let him take me out just for a free dinner.

Then I’m gonna get drunk with my best friend and her mom (maybe.. I don’t know if I’m that uninhibited yet). 

Then I’m gonna wear a scandalous outfit to a party, just cus, who said sexy was so wrong anyhow? 

Let the crazy sexy cool commence!!

<3 

Worrying

Amou Aduot Ajang allows herself to worry about things that she shouldn’t worry about. I suspect that she is actually comfortably accustomed to worrying. So that even when there is nothing to worry about, she creates something. She’s ill. you couldn’t blame her. Even when there isn’t anything to do, but laugh and be in the moment.. that laughter ellicites guilt. I’ve seen it before, and I’m telling you.. I see it in her… I suspect that Amou Aduot Ajang is a worrywart. There I said it! She just always seems to walk around with a stick up her ass. Always busy, busy, busy bee. You’d think she were the prime minister of the world or something. Always taking on things she shouldn’t. Always taking responsibility for mishaps that don’t involve her. Who does she think she is anyway? Not everything that occurs involves her. The world does not revolve around Ms. Aduot Ajang. Such that every situation, every occurrence, every problem, every solution, everything.. has something to do with her? Hmph. Dreaming I tell you. That girl… that girl just needs to learn how to relax or one day she’s gonna wake up with premature wrinkles. Wrinkles? Yes. Wrinkles. 

ahnka asked: what's your dream school?

My dream school is Barnard Women’s college. It was made for me and I was made for it. 

It’s funny what a bleak world would have a young heart believe

We are to much of one thing; to little of another. Our strengths become our weaknesses; we are innately weak and must become strong. Says who? Says me? On what grounds? Well my very own mutilated grounds, you see?

It’s funny what a bleak, miserable, jealous, scathed, and humiliated world would have a meek heart believe. I too have been guilty of that which I find to be the greatest atrocity.