Is it because of my biology?

What I will never understand is why we think we must endure,

Why can’t we be confused before we are sure.

Why must there be special labels for our sisters…our friends?

Why is there no end;

To the hate put upon on us,

and the abuse and unjust?

Why does the world care so much about my pride,

isn’t it mine?

Those questions have answers they cannot handle,

I am sick of hearing it is a shame

that I am the flame

to my own candle.

Demands from all directions,

they seem like conceptions without perception,

only filled with deception.


A poem by Nivie Dhami

Because of fears, of heartbreaks and tears.

Sing a song for me,

Let the words set free, what your eyes refuse to see, and your heart can’t be, Let the words flow deep, Like all seven seas, let the meanings take control and create moments my soul can keep.

Let there be music in the silence of our stares,

Let yourself do things that you normally wouldn’t dare, let your heart be open and bare, to feel what is already there, the love and connect that makes you so scared, because life’s never fair, so dare, to care without despair.

Don’t be afraid to leap.

Because even though you might loose sleep, the trip is worth the experiences you’ll reap, it wont always be easy, fear may creep, up on your will and you may weep, but no pain is concrete, so simply delete, any doubt that might increase, your chance to cheat, yourself from true peace.

It is hard to trust and show,

How you feel to those, you may not really know, but avoid quid pro quo, life isn’t about games although, some play games and some bestow, the warmth that will come to grow, if your just let go, and feel like those, who hold, hands till life becomes grey and old.

So sing me a song, It doesn’t have to be long, let go because nothing that is said from the heart is wrong, in the end our hearts will go where they belong.

So sing a song for me and see if this is where we need to be,

Even though, you already know, what your hearts too afraid to show, what your heart feels, because its forreal, and sometimes you can’t deal, with the reality of what you conceal,

Because of the fears, of heartbreaks and tears.

Nivie Dhami

The story of Colonialism and its offspring!

One day Colonialism planted a seed, from this seed grew Oppression; Oppression gave birth to Ambition, which led us along a long path to Ignorance, which fell in love with Greed. Ambition stayed loyal to its roots (Oppression) and they both began growing stronger than Ignorance and Greed combined. Although Ignorance and Greed were big and loud, Ambition and Oppression were not ready to be ignored. This clash brought Change and Awareness, these two changed everything, but also fed the egos of Greed; both Change and Awareness, though young and vibrant, became tainted. This did not stop Ambition and Oppression for they adopted Change and Awareness and vowed to keep moving and growing and hopefully one day, reaching their goal, PEACE!

A Poem by Nivie Dhami.

From Nivie to Navneet and the Wounded

If anyone knows how to fail it is me. I have failed at so many things in my life it seemed at one point a reality I had become accustomed to. I had failed at being happy, I had failed as a friend, I had failed as a companion and then as a human being. Through all those failures one thing helped me succeed and that was determination.

I was never one to accept things, I have always fought against the status quo, I will never conform for anyone, and I have always found myself in places no one I known had ever been. I take pride in my decisions even the bad ones, because they have all brought me to where I am today, a place of reflection and growth.

I have overcome obstacles many will never face, experienced things many cannot imagine and seen days of darkness deeper than many can collect. In all this, I have survived! I am still here and I am still fighting. Every day I am fighting for a better me, a better day that will bring forth a better tomorrow. I am fighting to live, I am fighting to be happy, I am fighting to bring light into my darkened soul that has been hurt so many times.

I have tears that have yet to be shed, but still I hide them under bright smiles and loud laughter. I have wounds that feel as though they will never heal, but I go on to fight more battles in life because I know I can. I believe in myself, in the world around me and in my story. For they hold more power than I can understand today, but thankfully this fact I understand.

I have found peace in words and sharing, I find strength in the unity of the wounded. It seems more real than the unity of the manipulative and spoiled, the sheltered and the weak. I know we shouldn’t judge for I hate them for doing the same to me, but there is a part of me that was there and when I judge I am judging that person within me. The weak young girl so influenced by everything around her, so wounded by everything around her, and so betrayed by everything around her. For a long time I hated that girl inside me, I hated her weakness and her judgments, her ridicules and assumptions, her unwilling to live. I hated how she made me feel (if that was what I was doing). I hated her reality for it was not mines; it was constructed by her world I never fit into. As time went on that girl grew and lived and then somewhere she changed. Now, after the bruises and the experiences, I have come to peace with her and embrace her for she is the reason I am who I am today.

I wonder where would I have been if it not been for the hurt and wounds, would I have been so enlightened? Would I care about the things I do now? Would I love like I do now? I don’t have answers but I have more assumptions and to those questions; my assumptions answer NO!

I don’t know if I will ever be able to go back to the status quo, live the rest of my life with those sheltered brats and consume myself of hatred for anything different. I am too free, I am too happy; I am too liberated to even care to go back. Will I ever be wounded again? I hope so, because it is those wounds that help me grow to be the woman I am, and it is those wounds that will forever help me grow into the woman I want to be.

So here is to the wounded, the different, the out-casted. Those they point fingers at, those they call ugly, this is for all those children who never really fit in, because they were born to stand out. This is for those scraps, scars, and tears that will never show. This is for the fact that we are not alone, this is for the fight and might to live on to be better people. This is for making this world a better place and making it REAL. I love you! And to the little girl inside I hated for so long, I love you too.

Love Nivie

Words that express how I feel compiled into sentences that rhyme.

Although we all have developed new methods of transportation, our journey’s seem to have lost their way. All that was colour and all that was beautiful has since turned to rubble and grey.

The secrets of Siruis and the joy that star brings us, doesn’t seem to matter in the present. When in reality its abundant importance was all the past consumed and now we are moving further away from the relevant.

Life is more than working a nine to five with bills to pay and people to please. I have no desire to consume myself with all this materialistic, insignificant greed.

Where will these luxurious cars go when our souls departs these bodies, will all these things matter then. I will not become a product of social construction, I want to exercise my spiritual liberation with no limits to how and when.

This consumption of the devilish greed I see around me everyday makes me ill. What happened to the bliss and dharma we are all here to obtain, what happened to free will?

It saddens me that we have forgotten the science and the spiritual journey’s which were so clear generations before us. Religion wasn’t created to separate or destroy, it was created to maintain distance from humans and lust.

Why haven’t we closed Pandora’s box after generations of destruction? Why haven’t we began the reconstruction?!

I can ramble for days on how much I detest being a part of a generation so far from the truth and good. Regardless I will continue on my path just as I should.

Love eachother, share a thought, live as though it was worth all the wars that we fought.

Otherwise, really….What was the point anyway.

Nivie Dhami

The women of yesterday should feel shame for the women of today; not because we show more, but because we care less.

It seems that a social disconnect between women is more prevalent today than ever before. It baffles my mind when I hear women blame each other for injustices. I have never felt so ashamed to be a woman than I have lately. This shame comes solely from the lack of unity; and mentality of women now-a-days.

Its discomforting to know I live in a society where the words “Slut” and “Whore” are so loosely used. A society that blames the attire of women, instead of criminal acts of men. This pathetic notion blames and puts responsibilities off of the criminals and onto the victims. Statistics show that 1 in every 3 women go through some form of sexual or physical abuse by the age of 18. 1 in 3! How many of those cases actually get reported? We as a society are responsible for the fact that less and less women are comfortable coming forward.

I am sick of hearing how a woman’s dress, or how provocative she may act is a factor and reason behind an assault. The choice of being promiscuous doesn’t take away her rights and freedoms. I am tired of hearing “Inviting Circumstances” in arguments defending perpetrators. In February when an assault was reported on York University’s Campus, a Constable from Toronto Police went on record and said his advice for women to avoid sexual assaults is for women to stop “dressing like sluts”. What is this comment really saying to the general public?! How can a constable from TORONTO POLICE, justify a sexual assault by blaming the incident on a women’s choice of dress. That is a freedom we all have, to dress and express how we please. My short skirt and high tops don’t invite harassment or assault. My high hemlines and backless dresses are not saved for times I feel I want to be threatened. That offers no comfort or support to victims of such events. What sort of society justifies an assault on any level?!

I have heard women blame each other time and time again for being victims of abuse. I can’t help but feel disgusted by these truths we are forced to live with. A few colleagues and I were having a discussion of domestic violence and I was in awe when I heard one of them say, “Well, I know that some girls act “up” and deserve to be slapped.” This wasn’t the first time I had heard such ignorance, I have heard these pathetic words time and time again. Every time I do, I can’t help but ask WHAT?! How and when does a women decide that instead of blaming the perpetrator, blaming the victim is justified?! When did women stop caring about fundamental rights and safety of our selves, and each other?!

Somehow, the topic turned into a debate of the ‘oh so’ publicized incident between singers Rihanna and Chris Brown. I couldn’t believe when one of the girls said, and I loosely quote “Rihanna is a strong personality, She probably aggravated him to the point where he lost his temper.” This is the disgust our society spreads. Victim blaming is something I thought we left in the past, but it seems even the “Modern” women of today have these backward values embedded in them. What happened to the revolution our grandmothers fought for? What happened to the bras they burned and the liberation they fought for?! The women of yesterday should feel shame for the women of today, not because we show more, but because we care less.

My question now becomes, how can women here in Canada feel such a disconnect with each other when we have more rights and freedoms than many woman around the world?!

Something to really think about….

This world…

I have this world in my head that follows me around everywhere. A world need not dates and holidays to influence emotion or appreciation. A world without laws or restraints, a world to perfect for such political taint. This world is based on truths, actual ones, not those poor excuses of truths mortality relies on, but actual truths, ones our universe was created from. This world needs not materialism for it can never obtain superficiality. This world is based on lost principals that seem obscure because of the clout of the invisible hand we all seem to fall under.

Since I was little this world has evolved and become more beautiful with time. The more I learn and unlearn the more wonderful this world becomes. At times this world seems a foggy distant anticipation I hold, and then I tune in again, flip the pages and the world returns. I cherish this world of knowledge and warmth, although it makes the reality I live in feel so incomplete. This world is where I belong, and when I really need to go there I close my eyes. I patiently await the day where that is all my mortal soul will do so I can join this world. Until then I continue to grow this world into all that I can, so that when I join this world it will be ready for me.

A Poem by Nivie Dhami

Death is in fact the only truth and surety life has to offer.

death/deTH/ Noun

  1. The action or fact of dying or being killed; the end of the life of a person or organism.

Death, the inevitable end to our existence. I have known my fair share of family members, peers and friends who have fallen victim to this inevitability.

Life is our story, and how we tell it is the gift left up to us. What we do everyday, tells a bit of that story to those around us. When we are gone the story ends and how you want that story to be told is up to us as individuals. Some tell their stories through paintings and art. Some tell their stories through inventions and revolutions. Some tell their stories through love for the world around them and everyone in it. These stories are what we hold on to. Their smiles, their jokes, the small things they did to tell their stories. We carry these stories with us wherever and whenever we go. We cherish those moments and tears form because of the depth of their stories and how dear those stories are to us.  Their impacts make us cry, their love, and the loss of that love. Their pictures bring back the memories, but fail to bring comfort in the fact that they are now only memories.

Like they say, the glass should be half full. Looking at death in a half full perspective, helps me to deal with it, rationalize it and cope with it.

Whenever I hear of another fallen solider in this battle called life, I begin to contemplate the concept of life and purpose. I over analyze my decisions and the curiosity of spirituality begins to consume more and more of my time.

Life is beautiful and wonderful, it is also dark and horrible. There will be Death only where there has been Birth. Ying Yang, the balance of life.

Life (Here on Earth), in my opinion, is a small fraction of our spiritual journey. Our physical lives here on Earth, have purpose, that help our spiritual lives get to where home is. Once the purpose of our physical lives are fulfilled, the time comes for the spirit to continue to the next phase of its journey. Set free from this world, they enter a world that inevitably awaits us all. Like the definition of death itself states, it is merely the death of an organism. Where our spirit goes after this mortal death has yet to be experienced and learned, and until we are here it will always remain a mystery. Although my knowledge of this place is a mystery, I am convinced it is a better place than mortality and life on Earth.  Death is in fact the only truth and surety life has to offer.

This week I would like to pay tribute to someone I knew. A solider at the least, Avtar Banga, a man who brought a smile to my face whenever I saw him. I might not have known him as well as those closest to him, and I hadn’t seen him in years, and still, his death hit close to home. Time doesn’t stop for anyone or anything. It will continue to go on even now that he is gone. He will always be remembered in my heart for his warm smile and quirky jokes. His wit and his smarts, his willingness to always see outside the box. He will always be loved by those whom he loved and that will never change. He was here and now he is gone, all too fast. But despite his absence, his presence will always be felt. My condolences to his family, friends and loved ones. May his soul rest happily in paradise, and may his smile never be forgotten.

Rest in Peace Hardeep Gill. I remembered you today.

God Bless the souls who’ve come and gone, and those still among us. Appreciate everything, and tell your story well.

Love and Peace


Wes Penre Productions -- the Blog

Published here: Monday May 4, 2009 at 7:24 PM 

This is a pretty important article for future reference. Never mind that this information comes from a White Extremists Forum, it doesn’t make the information less valid. Needless to say, I do not agree with the people on that forum. Those who followed my previous blog, temporarily deleted, remember Maria Orsic. The rest of you, please just read and remember for the future. Wes.

Maria Orsic
Maria Orsic

Maria Orsic, also known as Maria Orschitsch was a famous medium who became the leader of the Vril Gesellschaft. She was born in Vienna (Austria). Her father was a Croatian immigrant from Zagreb, her mother was from Vienna.

Maria soon followed the German national movement which was active at this time; the main goal of the movement was to annex Austria with the German Reich. In the year 1919 Maria moved to…

View original post 1,004 more words


Two faces make you real to those who spend less time paying attention to the detail, I am pretty satisfied with my one.

I lack both the capacity and desire to turn back the needles and revisit the past where you were the main focus of life, and proudly I am satisfied with all that was done.

Tomorrow brings a deeper understanding of how important the journey is along with the lessons we learn, Today allows me to appreciate all that I am surrounded by, this is the true gift of life.

We have lost focus on the true purpose and big picture, distracted by the small screens and large lifestyles of nothing.

Feeling so out of place in a world that calls me crazy for being passionate and actually caring for something.

I refuse to dress to impress you, I dress to impress me, I like it that way.

You see my clothes and not my heart because your eyes don’t give your heart the time of day.

Pretend all of this is a dream and life is whatever you want it to be, when you wake up do you like what you see?

A Poem by Nivie Dhami