When I have fears I won’t get likes
After posting my senseless selfie (taken in my bathroom),
After tweeting a witty, wasted “Yikes!”
Upon seeing the latest Cyrus escapade on Reddit come afternoon;
When I behold, upon night’s starred face,
I see it through my IPhone’s two-dimensional screen,
And I think that’s what’ll get the rest of the race
To notice me, after all I’m important – I don’t mean
To demean, but I’m the fairest creature of the hour;
I sometimes fear that you shall never look upon me,
Well I never have to worry for now I have the power
Of unreserved reticence to bestow upon thee –
Damn the hollowed experience, the heart, the mind lag;
For my exhausted existence has been validated #420yoloswag.
I... Wanna wrap my hands around a thick pole
of a carousel ride on our first date at the carnival.
I wanna swirl my tongue swiftly around
an ice cream cone when we take a trip to the ice cream parlor.
I wanna ride hard and bareback
when we go horseback riding at your cousin's ranch...
I wanna feel it pounding into me,
your heart when we dance close.
I wanna feel it on my face,
I'm talking about sunlight!
Why are you laughing?!
If you're too uncomfortable to hear
and I'm equally uncomfortable to say,
then why are we here, this is poetry, isn't it?
If I was a boy talking about banging chicks would that make this easier to swallow?
Does femininity have to keep me bound & gagged, I've heard my mother tell me enough times to act like a lady
But what does that mean?
Legs crossed, eyes open, voice low, mascara stenciled eyelids with crimson scarlet lips,
They'd say she tastes like innocence- isn't that why we dress up like school girls?
Pigtails and short skirts.
Call me naughty one more god damn time
Every video labeled with triple x's is marketed to the opposite sex, but we deserve to feel good too.
Even if that means inviting men into the hotel rooms of our bodies, ill scale the sheets to find myself between them if I have to.
The pursuit of happiness belongs to us too,
and if that means screwing a couple of dudes, what's it to you?
It all comes down to what we keep between our thighs:
All I know is that we turn against each other, each article of our unclothed bodies is like at crime scene wrapped in yellow tape, call me a massacre because I've been killing boys since the day they tasted my breath and called me pretty.
Carved from silicon, I'm developing cancerous distractions, the world painting my body and it's actions side show attractions. They were ring leaders in this carnival of distortion. Grotesque and picturesque. All they wanted from this was a contortionist.
They asked for this
And It was always them,
Obsessed and hell bent.
They asked to see us naked, stripped down, hollow eyes, expected innocence, pretty mouths and closed lips, didn't want to hear the echo of their screams in our own voice, dignity they told us to have,
Didn't mention the stacks of playboys they kept beneath their beds.
Just the images, never the women inside the pages.
They always want a girl who's good with her mouth
But they want lips sealed when it come to where she got the practice.
Shattering their images of their impossibly perfect
bubble gum pink and baby blue eyes.
We must be a commodity
Carved up like a good piece of meat and subservient served up for your judgement. Size me up like I haven't memorized the contours and calculated the curvatures; the kind of scrutiny to make your heart weep.
A masterpiece, but Mona Lisa kept all her clothes on, I think? Shallow but we stretch miles in all directions, I keep seeing mirror reflections, in every store window, if manikins can't stand up on their own, how can we?
I have to tell myself we don't have to stand up to stand for something.
And don't demean others with the word pussy, because what I keep between my thighs is nothing weak.
Keep trying to maintain my innocence. Shame anything that might just be our liberation:
bare knees, shoulder blades, and bra straps.
Written in the composition lines of our stretch marks it will tell us what provocative really means, but we haven't found it yet.
So how could you attempt to define what parts of us are too distracting?
I will paint my body honey harlot, summertime scarlet, and streak in the streets. A stark nude liberty.
I wanna be the type of women who is comfortable enough to take her clothes off.
Dance on stage if it means feeding a family, if it means taking money out of the hands of those who don't deserve it, if it means paying for an education I can't breath without.
I want to be the type of woman who opens the temple of her body, for tours if she has to
To resort and regain the kind of dignity they write stories about,
I want to be the type of woman who lays down her life, for her own children when their mouths are empty,
I'll take it like a whore.
No, daddy won't be ashamed because how could he be?
He bred a warrior, a fighter,
and he always said, it's not how big your muscles are, tough is how much you can take and get back up.
And women always get back up.
11:00 PM July 7th 2011
Outside Delacorte Theater,
Home of Shakespeare in the Park
Central Park, New York
What wretched wags
we have become,
sold rhyme and couplet
into slavery and meter sacrificed,
upon the altar of expediency.
LOL and BRB, the hallmarks
forgetting that civility
is resurrected when
we employ the poetry of speech
in our plain and
most especially in the simple,
please let beauty hold sway.
Brutalize our tongues,
thus our lives,
compression of our language
into single words that celebrate
the mundane, as fashionable.
yeah, yeah, yeah...
Our speech, its fragrance lost,
sublimates but does not sublime,
one liners demean our humanity,
grunts of yeah and cool,
are awesome not,
our future hope is in
the details of our expression,
whereby we inject
into our verbal demeanor
a grace that sets human
above the existence animal.
So touch this screen and
let us begin,
to take our measure
by our measure
of the care we demonstrate
when we communicate.
These words have transversed
from weekday to weekday,
soon at morning prayers
to the gods inside of me,
David's hymns and poems
a slow eloquence will infuse
my hallelujah eyesight.
Plain truths will be spoke,
in rhyme with
transfuse my soul
severally and jointly
above the confused noises of
the prison of nondescript lives,
leaving me a believer that
all's well that begins well.
Good Morn New Delhi,
Good afternoon, Auckland!
is this really it?
locked away, the pain is hidden
from all's sight.
she stays away, not meaning
but to spare.
spare her friends from pain.
she sits, not lonely but alone
and her thoughts consume her nights.
her skin's pallor grows ashen
as snow blankets the once vibrant life outside.
sleep doesn't come, but she sleeps so much.
eating isn't pleasure, and yet she does.
she functions to function.
that is it.
If you sit there poking me,
trying to demean me,
while you smile.
If you try,
actively to make me angry.
And I sit there and absorb all your negativity,
And all your insults
and all your criticisms,
while I smile.
If you bite me,
be prepared to deal with the hot poison i'll spit back
if and when
Do you feel sad?
Are you okay?
Are you alright?
...do you really want to know?
Perhaps I should fill you in.
After all I'm filling to the brim
with repressed emotion, why not
make a rotation,
for your private freak show.
Go ahead and try to demean me.
I don't feel sad,
I feel worse.
I am filled with the
Trapped within this
bubble of skin.
I am still disconnected,
I am, frankly, desolate.
I'm not okay.
My bodily functions
my vitals may be
but I am not 'okay'.
Who are you to say,
just what constitutes okay?
My life may seem fantastic
to you, but hiding
is nothing new to
me. I am, after all, an
expert you see.
Why can't you just allow me to
be? without ripping to show
that which makes me
I will never be alright,
this tight ball of
lodged in my throat
an invisible moat
separates me from
the ones my loneliness longs
I am beached, on the shores
of my mind.
Desperately hoping for
someone to find me,
desperately hoping that this
time, their actions will
Stop asking questions
you've already made an
Don't attack me for showing
weakness, this rot
goes deeper than you will
Allow me time to sew the smile
on my face, to deface the battle scars
I should wear with pride.
Unlike you, I wear my medals inside.
I am strong, and I've had to be
for longer than you will ever know.
And, without your 'sympathy' I shall
continue to grow.
I shall be better than you will ever see.
I was driven mad by the use of cinema
as a statement for much needed artistic
revival. Although as a question, i would
even be so kind to say that fish demean
themselves when they breathe alone,
underwater. My story isn't the same as
the traditional suit maker, but it would
still trace the same stencil as my forebears,
the bop mongrels. Behind sunglasses the
eye still restrains itself from flipping the
wagon and delivering an evil message to
the second visceral vein. Night's silence
appears to be thunderous in the way of
Heraclitus. This is the refrain, and now,
here it is again.
Here is my chance to waver as a flag in
an impossible direction, in the thought
that I am the one that is isn't driving, the
raindrops are. That's a clue. THAT IS THE
I found her savaged
Embodied luxuriously over
what evoked to be a torn up of sequence of awesome tapestries, adjourned past a thin web of carefully traced emblems.
To this day, I find not a thought so beautiful and out of many
those which may come about
and those which could’ve never come.
I find myself without a motive,
without a sacred scent of pride nor
stigma of freedom,
yet I am only enslaved to my very demons.
Were they not as grotesque,
were not in the hopeless, drunken sake
to revoke their perseverance
they wouldn’t be anywhere near as precious.
In fact, they are perhaps the most precious elements I can behold.
Though they have not always ruled over guidance,
they have never left my course
and my curse, is to fancy them dear.
For lord, how could one ever wish to cease dreaming?
I can only let go upon the rabid clearance of my faithful pen,
even the latter, couldn’t ever suffice the magnificence of the given.
For it’s not ignorance, nor enlightenment;
It is whatever I wish it to be,
and none which I’ll come close to explain.
It is the mere and absolute pleasure
one finds in darkness.
That which comes over me,
that which sways my tidings and gathers
my rhythms and rushes my rhymes,
that which tides my emotions to the velvet
envelopes entitled in marks,
to the sunken, undecipherable verses,
to the crimson, wilted rashes of a silvermoon
Oh, for such foul words are now used to demean one’s art
“thou art my lady, my gleam of heaven in sorrowful sight”
What terrible night,
what a terrific subject
what tremulous manner to execute a
I could never stop dreaming,
not while the dances
on melted vine;
not even whilst it dwells my words
into senseless specters,
not while the mind yet thrives,
nor will I ever fear such a splendid rhyme.
I found myself upon a creature whose tender slight
had abandoned the very virtue
and could only see myself glowing vile,
tangling amongst amazement and disappointment
why should I deny one the pleasure
my very fate has forbidden to attire?
What makes me,
of all people,
the soul to advantage of given pride?
Cowardly, the stench of curiosity bewildered
by an apologetic reign of might.
Whatever may have become of me,
where I to act upon my gifted intervention;
I often wonder.
I often regret it upon the moments when the mind
speaks the soul’s verdict, and one consoles
over the truth, acclaiming to change by the night’s passing.
Yet lament, sorrow and forlorn
only help me remember her last stance ever so beautifully;
and in the quelled noise of a risen,
renders the violent solemnity of a kiss.
For a lady always rests upon the velvet of her silhouette.
I'm burning it all down,
The crumbling wall that has been stabbed, beat and drowned.
Why am I burning it down?
It's because I want to re-claim my crown.
Too many people have grabbed it, and had me bow down to them,
That's now about to change, I am no longer as weak as I was.
The walls around my kingdom will be rebuilt,
And NO one will ever again make it tilt.
I'm tired of always losing control,
I'm taking back the kingdom they stole.
My guards will be stationed every step of the way, beginning at the bob-wired very thick metal front wall,
No longer will my kingdom fall.
This is the last time I will feel like this,
Me always feeling exposed will not be missed.
The doors have been shut,
The ropes and chains holding the doors will not be cut.
My kingdom has been burned to the ground,
But now I have been re-crowned.
I re-built the kingdom form the same ruins, covered with endless black smoke and black puffs of ash,
No longer, will my heart and mind crash.
Now I sit on my throne in my kingdom,
It is large, with 49 big thick steel doors leading to the centre in all four directions, it is no longer easy to enter my dominion.
I do not need a queen,
All she will do is steal my crown, and make me go demean.
Some call it tough love,
I just laugh, and know that I will no longer get the big painful shove.
I built it up, to bring to bring it all back down,
I built it back up, stronger, and heavily guarded, it will no longer be a ghost town.
It is mine to control,
I took back the kingdom they all stole.
You say we are a “melting pot”
A “melting pot”
What does that even mean?
I’m not here to be displayed as your “diversity”
You say we bring “diversity”
Do you even know what that term means?
Oh, there are some African Americans here and there
You see some Asian Americans crossing the street
A few Hispanic Americans in the library
But no…...no, no, no
It doesn't matter how full this “melting pot” gets
Because we will never get the right respect
Down the line of history, they might have been the best
And we were treated less
But we were told to not let history repeat itself
So, why are we letting history repeat itself?
This great “American dream”
Last time I checked, that was a color
So is there a reason why we were called “colored”?
You think you’re so clever
You think you bring “diversity”?
Do you even know what that term means?
You think you can demean another ethnicity
So you can bring your white supremacy
But there is no space for that type of energy
What happened to diversity?
The true and real meaning of accepting
We never came to this country
To be treated as useless monkeys
To be treated on in the laboratories
We never came to this country
To be shredded of our dignity
To be left in humility
We never came to this country
With this torn down and warped society
That think they can control everybody
What happened to giving man their voice?
What happened to freedom and equality?
What happened to……America?