Posted in life, Poetry, Random

Shots Fired

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.

Posted in life, Poetry

Hotbox

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.

Posted in life, Poetry

Drag & Drop

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.

 

18 October 2020
Posted in life, love, Poetry

Spelling Tests

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.

 

06 October 2020
Posted in life, Poetry, Self-discovery and growth

Imposture

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

Posted in life, Poetry

Failed Humility

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

Posted in life, love, New Work, Poetry, Self-discovery and growth

Identity.

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.

Posted in life, Poetry, Random

force majeure

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.

Posted in life, Poetry, Thoughts and Ruminations

Higher Ups

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.

10 August  2020
Posted in life, Poetry

A. I. R.

Someone said

we don’t stay young forever,

and it’s accepted as

undeniably true

because the evidence

time leaves on  our souls and bodies

reminds

we don’t have much left.

But my inner child

never ages

and as long as my soul knows youth

Age is  relative;

I breathe it  like air.

I never forget

to  remember

younger days

and innocence…

its simplicity

life’s purest joy.

29 August 2020