I was gonna update my blog
with all my new poems
but the kitten decided she wanted to help
and now I guess
I’ll update later
because I can’t bring myself
to wake her.
I was gonna update my blog
with all my new poems
but the kitten decided she wanted to help
and now I guess
I’ll update later
because I can’t bring myself
to wake her.
Firing shots at the world,
taking them in long strides
fiery bullets
that warm my chest
and numb my thoughts
suspending them like snowfall
at midnight.
Just pour me over the stars
and crystallize these precious moments
before time melts [them all] away.
full steam ahead
hotbox me in the shower
watching my sweat drip
and run down the drain…
my ย body releasing
the day’s struggle.
Breathing
never came easier,
set my mind free.
Sometimes I wish
I could erase pain
with the same ease I delete files
from my computer;
Quickly, and without even thinking about it,
Getting it out of my sight,
drag & drop that shit away from me.
Yeet…
But if it were that easy
my memory banks would draw blanks
and my drives would be empty;
My most memorable successes
always come from
overcoming struggle.
I feel it when you’re spelling my name;
Trying to bend me to your will.
Keep me stagnant
glass is easier to shatter when held still.
I feel you drawing my own whims against me,
thinking you’ll scatter me to the winds.
I know you want me to succeed
only in making you happy
and plod along or completely fail
at all else.
You’d rather I know your name much better
than I do myself.
And you’re not the only one – from many directions
do these slighted attempts come.
Control,
in control
but you have none for your own self…
No, it’s from all those around you
whose lives remain in your stealth.
It’s not love, or kindness, you seek in others;
But total destruction of the meek, and their brothers…
And how dare you offend kismet
Gorging your strength of perception
on another’s weaknesses.
Enemies always linger –
No one notices the snake until after
it’s already bitten their finger.
Can’t keep up,
can’t back down –
Speak optimistically
internally I frown
because maybe I’m doing too much,
though it feels I do little;
As such,
I quickly lose focus
and get to feeling quite bogus.
All of this feels…wrong
I feel like I just don’t belong:
Not even wanting to fit in
I just want to celebrate
my small wins…
Instead of beating myself up for
not conquering the entire mountain.
Scaling for score;
Still feeling there should be more.
Either something’s missing
Or I’m missing something.
Trade tears
For fears
I’m posturing
to hide my bad posture…
Tripping over self-doubt
Self-confidence won’t
come into the out.
I can’t figure out why
I kill myself
hoping to die…
In competition with only me,
shadows are always hard to see.
I’ve nothing to prove
to anyone’s roster –
incessant syndrome on the move.
One day, maybe,
I’ll feel less of an
impostor.
October 4, 2020
I undercut
and underestimate so much
about myself
I’ve started to believe
my own lies –
And try to convince other people
to believe them too.
I don’t much like my own voice,
or handwriting
and so in [topics of] discussion,
I tell others that
they aren’t much;
Often, they tend
to disagree
as I should also,
but somehow never really get past
petty self-deprecation.
October 4, 2020
Don’t call me black,
Call me by my name,
call me by my humanity.
“Black” is one of the many colors
found in the crayon box,
the ink of a pen,
the darkness of shadow;
a shade devoid of character or light –
Yet, I am full of light.
Colors are ideals driven by perception,
Color is only surface.
Pigmentation runs deep.
The green of grass and in the leaves of plants
are not surface colors.
When they get wet,
their green doesn’t wash away;
it gets brighter
it is part of them.
Strip the bark from a tree,
it’s still brown
or shades of it
because brown is within its
nature.
My pigment doesn’t wash away or rub off –
my melanin is my crowning glory.
Neither of these are identifiers –
and I’m not simply a color.
Yes, I am melanated,
But…
I am a person, a being,
of presence, of energy,
of spirit.
I am vital, valuable.
I am adequate.
I am wombman, mother,
I am love itself.
I cannot be classified,
I have class, and…
I am a class all my own.
These “identifications” only exist
to isolate me, separate me,
Invalidate me.
Don’t call me black,
Don’t call me brown,
don’t call me by what you see
on my surface.
Don’t you dare…
I’m more than just that,
I’m more than what is visible.
My layers are their own nature,
not validated simply by a color name.
They are a tangle of blood and bone,
muscle and vein,
emotion and thought…
of pain, and of love.
I bleed when I am cut
I cry when I am hurt
or happy.
I sleep when I am tired
I eat when I am hungry.
I drink when I have thirst;
I imagine, I ideate, I innovate.
I have goals and dreams.
I achieve, and I fail.
Am I so different from
any other being of humanity
that my identity
should be systematized by
a single word,
a color, no less,
a hue?
Is that all I am?
To many, maybe.
To those who know me, love me,
They understand there is more to me
than what the eye sees.
Call me by my name,
Acknowledge my identity.
Call me who I am –
Not what you perceive me as.
High thoughts
higher dreams,
elevation.
The physical plane
can’t clip my wings.
My flower
a gift to life
infinitely expanding, exploring,
floating along
my thought streams.
Nectar, so sweet
rare taste of magic…
Trying to imagine the whole of life
at its core
bends the mind almost achingly
a brute force majeure:
hurts so good, I can’t think –
only feel;
I see everything –
and want crave
more.
A sage soul once said
When you hit rock bottom,
there’s nowhere left to go but up
and up.
I always envisioned this as
diving feet first into the ocean;
Maybe the deep end of
a pool –
never fully do I reach the bottom;
Even as gravity tugs
and despite its insistence
I’m already buoying back to the surface…
A question:
Did I ever actually touch the bottom, even a little?
Down’s always a possibility
on this elevator ride
but Up’s often the stronger motivation
when traveling –
Higher I get
higher I go
fiery air balloon of will
Floating, never stopping…
Until ground level
and bottom
are distant clouds
of memory.
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Aspiring to be the best at writing. Poetry lover, haiku and free verse to be precise, I hope to one day master
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