Streams That Lead Somewhere by F. Malik

Fareh Malik is a 26 year old Canadian author and poet who has been performing spoken word since 2012. He is an up-and-coming, unpublished author with a story to tell. These poems are self-reflective, and tell an important and relatable story for all.

When Truth Is Bitter, Repression Is Art

I’ve always had a sweet tooth
candied lies have
unfailingly gone down easier than the truth
my self deception
has spun me tales of delectability
fooling me into thinking
that every one of my marinated breaths
should taste sweet as they
fall from my lips

Flower Power

On our second date
our waitress saw my floral patterned bandana
and asked why I loved flowers so much
“They’re pretty” I said
What I should have said was
Miss, you should have been at our first date
when I brought her a bouquet of daisies
You should have seen Isaac Newton’s jaw drop
as gravity itself surrendered from her brow and
the corners of her mouth-
how her face levitated into joy
as if defying the laws of physics

I want to tell her that
I think the flowers’ will to live died a long time ago
but they set their alarm clocks
stretch out their leaves
and wake from their slumber every spring because
they know they’d get to see her face
and that’s enough
I apologize to every-one I pick
and they have understand
because it’s for her

I want to tell her that
when she walks in the park
and the roses see her
every other petal that has
“She loves me not”
etched on its underbelly
loses its crimson and
turns into a white flag
that submits with apology

I wish I had told that waitress how beautiful flowers can be
when you’re in love

Depression Is as Bloody a Battle as Any

I asked her about the scars on her arms
the strongest person I know

I refused to believe it was any reason short of
that she was catching eager grenades
clasping them shut in
a prison of knuckles and fingers
shielding those in need-
a smile on her face, as if there was
no regard for shrapnel

or perhaps she had been washed in
the flood of catcalls
and inequality, for so long
that she finally saw windows that needed breaking
because doors refused to open;
she’s the kind of person who would
smash through glass ceilings
and lick the blood clean in satisfaction

I overheard that
she stole so much opportunity from life
that death himself was furious
and as the grim reaper tried to
cut off her hands in punishment
his strikes refused to slice deep enough
his scythe broke on her Nemean lioness
thick skin

I think she saw Trump’s wall and
winced as she wrapped her hands
finger to wrist
in its unravelling
barbed wire crown

or actually
they were probably bite marks
from wrestling crocodiles in the nile

no, no
she’s the kind of person to
grab roses by the thorns
hug them tightly
and promise to love every part of them equally

she shook her head
and told me:
waged wars aren’t always deafening cannons
that sometimes struggle
isn’t some marvelous thing
no
these battles are hushed
overlooked
nothing but a whispered conversation
between a girl and her razors

IP Volume 5: In Parentheses Magazine (Spring 2020-Crowds Edition)

The SPRING 2020 issue of In Parentheses Literary Magazine. Published by In Parentheses (Volume 5, Issue 3)

In Parentheses Magazine (Volume 7, Issue 3) Winter 2022

By In Parentheses in IP Volume 7

32 pages, published 1/15/2022

The Winter 2022 issue of In Parentheses Literary Magazine. Published by In Parentheses (Volume 7, Issue32)