Her Majesty
I am a woman of Power
An African Woman

We may all lay under the same stars but I praise beyond the earth
We may all walk on the same soil but I conquer the roots

I am An African Woman
They may all talk but history is in my name
They may walk in the essence of nature but history are my footprints

I followed through the void,
witnessed the darkest glare,
said to myself I'm fine,
I think I will die there.

a year's worth of scarring
adorns my thigh,
lying there
a constant reminder
but they are also
a year's worth of happiness,
of friends,
of recovery,
of love.
they are from the year
that i wanted to die,
but now
they represent
another year
i have lived.

Words can hurt. Words can heal. Words in a book can make you believe anything is real. Words can bring people together or tear them apart. It all depends on the kind of conversation you want to start.

But, every time someone leaves me,
I learn to love myself a little more.

I'll get the day
on my side
and sail
with its tide-

I'll persuade
the night to sing
along with me
and comfort bring-

I'll tell the stars
you shouldn't hide
away--lovers are waiting
travellers need you to guide-

I'll whisper to my heart
in patience and faith abide
for a kinder and happier world
let this be my prayer to recite.

missing the ball won't
make you feel guilty but not
swinging the bat will.

Books devour the silence

that weighs down inside

like bright little creatures

they dream and breath

in their cosy little worlds

until each page sizzles

with a human touch

I just ordered
My third cup of coffee
After all, I am in good company
Words spilled before me.

Could they have known —
I will always look for
The smell of old books
In this digital world.

Words, my words,
My heart treasures
To put pen to paper.

Time is unkind
For a writer,

Nothing is ephemeral.

You are
A page marked by a folded corner
A love I will come back to
In the future.

do u ever
want to tell
someone
how proud u are
of their happiness

isn't that weird?

Life is filled with joys and sorrows

But some joys are expensive

They come at the highest price

I've tried to write about you countless times but I still can't find it in my heart to admit these things to myself

Lost dazed and confused
I don't know what to do
A brisk breeze blows me in the direction I need to go
I'm being torn apart
But not how I'm used to
We talk nearly enough but we still love each other
You're not toying with me
But you're torturing me
Burying me in concrete to my eyes and filling my heart
I finally understand exactly what I need
And you can't give it to me
Just like a spring wind
Is still cold
You are stuck in one place
While I'm moving on forward

I am happy
Or lonely

Life is about change.
Sometimes it's painful.
Sometimes it's beautiful.
But most of the time it's both.
Sometimes you keep a lot
to yourself because it's
difficult to find people who
            understand.

But never regret being a good
person, to the  wrong people
because your behavior says
everything about you, and
their behavior says enough
            about them.

Love doesn't keep score.It
wipes the record clean each day.
It says good  morning to today
and goodbye  to yesterday.

Some people want material things,
me, I just want peace, happy times
            &  people to love.

The mind will not always remember
exactly what happened, but the
heart will always remember the
                  feeling.
                                  ­                                                     Jon York   2019

it’s a beautiful thing
this day and age
with bubbling permafrost
with drug-resistance
with obesity treatments
with technological advancements
with scientific discoveries
with silent wars
with blue lava
with bleeding glaciers
with divorce
with sensitivity
with my generation
of people believing
this new generation
is completely and
utterly clueless as a
common occurrence

but let’s think about
what these kids are
into nowadays.

let’s think about who
invented these inane
things for the kids.

my generation of people.

so the kids of today are
the ones who are ******
for liking the things
that we’ve created?

I’m sorry but we have to
be the ones who are obtuse
for believing such things,
oblivious for not
realizing them and
showing the world
we have
little or no imagination
anymore.

the generation before us
has lied to us and
thought us to lie
to the generation
after.

whether it’s the gods
or holidays
or what not.

the youth of the today
are autonomous.
they can not take
responsibility for
their actions nor do
they understand and
just go along
with the trends,
much like,
all the generations
before them
but we need a scapegoat
to cover up our own
farce implementations.

the truth of the matter is..
we’re all a little vacuous
in our own way
especially the ones with
an answer for everything.
living in an imperfect world
where there’s always room
for improvement
nothing for us
or against us
wrapped up in our
congratulatory
self-contradictory
and illogical theories
and as useless as
exploding appendix.

the lost generation
the interbellum generation
the silent generation
the baby boomers
generation x
the millennials

a strong admixture
of imbecility and
self-assurance
filled with belief
and unawareness
to a senseless world

like hate
like blame
like gossip
like jealousy
like being offended
like being impressive
like the punk rock dream
like hospital waiting rooms
like fundraisers and charity events
like your co-worker to the right and
the left of you
and their families
and their families before
them

our greatest creation
our strongest aide

to deconstruct

The sound of silence
Rings in my hear
Rather distant or near
The sound of silence
So crystal clear
The sound of silence
Erase all fear
The sound of silence
Wipe away her tear
The sound of silence
Saying I am here

I love him
I tell myself
I know that
We will be together forever
I don’t believe that
We could be separated
My thoughts tell me that
He’s the love of my life
Sometimes my heart lies and says
I could live an eternity
Without him
Like my friends say
“We’re perfect for each other”
And you can’t tell me
He’s not the one.

Now read from bottom to top.

Lick my lips
Cradle my face
Gaze into my eyes
And tell me I'm safe

I am not alone,
                but still I am alone.

i dread the day you learn
for the first time that
you can't just love all
the darkness in me away

and no matter how much
you care i will still toss
and turn at night and scars
might still appear on my skin

i dread the day you realize
that you can't cure me
and sometimes all you can do
is stand next to me and
hold my hand through fog
pouring out of my ears so black
and thick we can't even see
each other's faces

i dread the days i can't
get out of bed
the days you want to
take me out and all
i can manage is a prettified
shell of myself

i dread the day you learn
that sometimes no matter
how hard i try i still can't
pull myself together

the day you learn that
there isn't an answer
you can give that will
save me from my fears

you aren't the first person
who has tried to love the
darkness inside away
my family and friends
have given it their all
but someday you too will learn
that if love could
cure mental illness
the world would be
a much better place

Paint me a picture
Of your skin
Does it bronze beneath the sun?
Or sizzle and blush
Like your cheeks
When you’re in love?
Is it soft to the touch
Like when your palms graze
The smooth surface of water?
Or rough around the edges
Like your favorite book
And its lovingly worn corners?
Does it melt in the heat
Like sweet syrupy treats
Dripping through your fingers?
Or does it welcome the winter
With wide open arms
As if greeting a lover?
Paint me a picture
Of your skin

When I was little
I was scared
Scared of the monsters living under my bed
I used to hide, under my blanket
Under my blanket, I was safe
The monsters couldn’t reach me under my blanket

My parents used to say
The monsters would go away
I would grow up and that then they would leave

But I grew up
And the monsters didn’t leave
Turns out my monsters, grew with me
Now instead of under my bed
The monsters live inside my head

So I hide, under my blanket
Where I think I am safe
Wondering if after all this time
My blanket can still keep the monsters at bay

You may wear the skin of an angel,
But inside your the essence of death,
I have seen into your eyes,
And tasted your bitter lies,
Seen the destruction you portray as delight,
Felt the pain of your continuous fight,
Your violence doesn’t flow from your fists,
It spouts off your twisted tongue,
Burrows deep inside of my head,
You’ve destroyed all that I am,
And still you smile and offer me your sympathy,
Be warned,
For there is nothing more powerful than I that am scorned.

wM