Cultural jetlag – K.B

Cultural jetlag

 

 
With my dad,
We talk about drinks,
Whores, sex,
Politics,
Anything….
We understand eachother.

My mom is the overly pious
In the wrong sense.
Even if she is my mother,
She grew in an arab muslim
Country, with all the ensuing
Taboos and spirituality.
I grew up in the west.
It makes it hard
To communicate.
We can’t talk
About a lot of things.

Adding to that my very
Personal stance on
Religions and society,
No wonder I broke
My nerves seven years
Ago.

I had to wait till
I could voice myself
Again
And be perfectly balanced
Again,
Cumfortable with my choices
And opinions.

I carry the burden
Of birth,
Know that
Each of my poems
Are miracles
Of personal
Lucidity.

I grew up
In the bad
Gardens
Where those
Who question
Anything at
All gets injected
To quiet down
And not disturb.

 

 
K.B

 

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