Kash Baloch — Poetry on Identity, Love, and Survival

If a Marula tree falls in the woods, and no one is around; does it even make a sound? What about when a warrior queen wails for the infant son who's been ripped right out of her shaking arms? Does anybody hear it? Even if their tattoo tears concealed it, I know their eyes still had to see it. Mother Africa wept silently through all those strife-filled years, her only solace lie in knowing that her stoic sun was near. Blazing high up in the sky or beating against the scorching dirt, he wanted their invading feet to burn, just like their crackling whip that hurt. As the neutral Earth tones blushed, imprinted by innocent blood, a permanent stain remained to ensure their names would not be washed away by monsoon rains. Being sold out by neighbouring tribes hurt more than these pale faces whom they'd never seen before upon their shores.  Was it even worth the reward of being the last prisoner whose head banged against the wooden floor? Thr...

When fame and fortune are achieved, and there is not much left to do,  that is when I search within for an answer or a cure. Caught up in society's rules of what, how, and the who,  I orbit into obscurity, then free fall into an open sewer.  I am successful at most endeavours that I set my mind to— whether it's racketball or the creative arts, I often take the lead.  So I sit and seethe then make believe I am a witches brew,  right before I prick my finger, and I let it bleed. Excelling at almost everything can be a blessing and a cancerous curse,  as choosing one simple path can become quite complex.  So, instead, I obsess and move forward, in reverse;  I stray further from my purpose, and grow painfully perplexed. Robbed of my own livelihood like a runaway, derailing train; despite a dozen different modes of transportation, I still cannot be moved. My success vanished as mysteriously as a Malaysian aeroplane; Stubborn as a m...

Find me where the cacophony of sounds meets deafening silence, where pin drops seem to echo, and whispers blare like air raid sirens. Out, past all this plastic noise pollution, is an escape where our bodies do all of the talking. I am loudest in the pregnant expectation of audiences awaiting an orchestra's first notes, search for me along the surface of the unbeaten drum. Slide your fingers on the coastal cities of my parchment skin, sometimes I even hide between guitar strings that have yet to be plucked. Where aria meets melody, and where bass tickles the rhythm, you will notice me dancing between the lines, like a dervish, whirling, intoxicated. I am in the sighs, and the frustration—every exhalation between lovers in a spat. There is much of me in their reconciling, and in the fire that rekindles their romance. Listen closely and you will hear me in the throats of birds, I am there in the few moments of silence before they crow and wake the world. I feel most serene when ...

Woman brought us to the Earth, but man will take us out; ruled by ego and insecurities,  he shoots before he shouts. The fourth world war will be fought with sticks and stones, like in the past: for the third will annihilate our home, with one single blast. If women ruled today,  we would still have our humanity, instead of this endless rage,  that is often coupled with unadulterated insanity.

You signed your name in invisible ink upon my stony, restless heart; where others failed to leave an impression, you left an eternal mark. I was intrigued by you from our first chance meeting, even though you loathed me from the very start. Now, I remain indebted to you, for illuminating my path through the dark. If you weren’t here; what would I have done? If you weren’t near; who'd I have become? Without you, dear; my life is a gun. Without you, I fear, my sorrow would've won. At eight years young, when Sam excitedly introduced our families, I tried to impress you with Street Fighter, but to my chagrin, you had no time for silly games . Soon, I'd find excuses to visit your home, to catch sight of the unicorn, but even then, you were too cool for me. While I engaged in foolishness, your wisdom still surpassed my child's play. If you weren’t here; what would I have done? If you weren’t near; who'd I have become? Without you, dear; my life is a gun. Without you...

Paint without apologies on life's chaotic canvas, since there is no one else who can fulfill your purpose. Dance with the watercolour winds, just like the wolves did. Whose poison tongue convinced you 'solo' is synonymous with 'worthless'?  Listen to that tiny voice within you, the same one that whispers softer than the stars. On the surface, all is calm and steady, but do not wake this resting jaguar.  Poor are they whose pleasures depend on another's permission. When you already enchant audiences like the magician, why do you settle for being his assistant? Let your art mirror the beauty of your smile, cut and paste each piece of you until you're perfect. Show them the strength in being an unmanned isle, let them wonder if their dependency issues are worth it.  You are capable enough to conquer Gengis Khan or Alexander. While all these reds need blues just to become purple, you already entered this world vibrant and violet. Always remember t...