baeaf - Hello Poetry

& then i let the music take control of me I let him control of me. he was my writer and I was his poetry I was his rider and he was always driving, I let my heart think for me I'm naiive, I close my eyes and let my heart see for me I see you.

0

Oct 13, 2015

Oct 13, 2015 at 9:10 PM UTC

i see u.

& then i let the music take control of me I let him control of me. he was my writer and I was his poetry I was his rider and he was always driving, I let my heart think for me I'm naiive, I close my eyes and let my heart see for me I see you.

5

You were my Literature. I loved you fluently. past tense. see now I've burned bridges labelled emotions, just so you can't cross me. and now i'm heated to the third degree you know i always held it down when you was out of it time stopped & the universe slowed down a bit. gave you all my time and now i'm out of it Painted a picture of my future with you but I gotta figure some things out, it is what it is. step back and leave the attractions where the canvas is. If you needed it and I had it, you had it. If I wanted it and you had it, i had it. That's the kind of bond we shared. but you tryna turn up every night, I'm just tryna kick it with you, lean back and vibe like we two lawn chairs Now i'm heated, tryna extinguish every fire we ever started I'm an arsonist. Burned bridges labelled emotions & walked past them. Dodged ***** labelled feelings, prayed to God i wouldn't catch them You were my Literature. My 5th period English Class. The one I couldn't wait to get to after Lunch. And I was the poet you didn't deserve. I was soft spoken, ripped open I was subliminal I was Submergin I was broken, and I was hurtin I was naive, without purpose.

0

Aug 9, 2015

Aug 9, 2015 at 5:11 PM UTC

Unfinished.

You were my Literature. I loved you fluently. past tense. see now I've burned bridges labelled emotions, just so you can't cross me. and now i'm heated to the third degree you know i always held it down when you was out of it time stopped & the universe slowed down a bit. gave you all my time and now i'm out of it Painted a picture of my future with you but I gotta figure some things out, it is what it is. step back and leave the attractions where the canvas is. If you needed it and I had it, you had it. If I wanted it and you had it, i had it. That's the kind of bond we shared. but you tryna turn up every night, I'm just tryna kick it with you, lean back and vibe like we two lawn chairs Now i'm heated, tryna extinguish every fire we ever started I'm an arsonist. Burned bridges labelled emotions & walked past them. Dodged ***** labelled feelings, prayed to God i wouldn't catch them You were my Literature. My 5th period English Class. The one I couldn't wait to get to after Lunch. And I was the poet you didn't deserve. I was soft spoken, ripped open I was subliminal I was Submergin I was broken, and I was hurtin I was naive, without purpose.

30

See I know. love is always wanted. rarely given, but always made. but you don't need it. You a **** You let hoes hold your relationships back like leashes do And ya homies the same counselors in ****** up relationships or they single Sellin false images. you counterfit. & it's not my fault if the shoe fits, not my fault that i'm preaching in general and you sittin, thinking... **** i do this" I'm just throwing it out there, & when it lands, I can't help if you get hit I'm just tryna educate, but the price to pay is knowledge and that's too expensive so most of yall won't buy it you'on need love? maybe you just can't find it A shawty that's down with the lectures when you need to talk and the shade when it gets hotter She'll add the seeds to ya garden, then money showers for water What are your weaknesses? What are her strengths. Are you..strong enough to be the sand and allow her to be the open hand...you, seep through, can you trust her? can she see you. you see a woman is someone strong enough to bare the adolescents that men carry, crafting all the material See, love is like a dream fixed in hell you've got to take your time and exhale before you excel your highest peak gotta hope she real enough to hand you her soul like "here baby take peek" open up this box of secrets, and you'll see how a rock forms into a diamond when compressed under the toughest terrain, cause unlike this diamond, your thinkin like a pebble... like the hard of the floor, put your heart heart on the floor and kneel before a queen, your faith Love. Love is sometimes idolized but, idle eyes will blink past the lightning in it's strike but I get it, you young yeah i get it, cause that love **** ain't always sweet and love ain't minute maid no matter how many lemons life gives you, you ain't goin far if you can't learn to make lemonade.

0

Jul 10, 2015

Jul 10, 2015 at 4:59 AM UTC

unfinished

See I know. love is always wanted. rarely given, but always made. but you don't need it. You a **** You let hoes hold your relationships back like leashes do And ya homies the same counselors in ****** up relationships or they single Sellin false images. you counterfit. & it's not my fault if the shoe fits, not my fault that i'm preaching in general and you sittin, thinking... **** i do this" I'm just throwing it out there, & when it lands, I can't help if you get hit I'm just tryna educate, but the price to pay is knowledge and that's too expensive so most of yall won't buy it you'on need love? maybe you just can't find it A shawty that's down with the lectures when you need to talk and the shade when it gets hotter She'll add the seeds to ya garden, then money showers for water What are your weaknesses? What are her strengths. Are you..strong enough to be the sand and allow her to be the open hand...you, seep through, can you trust her? can she see you. you see a woman is someone strong enough to bare the adolescents that men carry, crafting all the material See, love is like a dream fixed in hell you've got to take your time and exhale before you excel your highest peak gotta hope she real enough to hand you her soul like "here baby take peek" open up this box of secrets, and you'll see how a rock forms into a diamond when compressed under the toughest terrain, cause unlike this diamond, your thinkin like a pebble... like the hard of the floor, put your heart heart on the floor and kneel before a queen, your faith Love. Love is sometimes idolized but, idle eyes will blink past the lightning in it's strike but I get it, you young yeah i get it, cause that love **** ain't always sweet and love ain't minute maid no matter how many lemons life gives you, you ain't goin far if you can't learn to make lemonade.

34

Tick Tick Tick. 3am. 3am. see. that's when the clock broke and I broke down Put my pride aside and decided I'd take ink to my crumpled up heart to write you a letter with the tainted blood you left flowing through my veins the, clock broke and now I'm wondering when mourning you ends and morning begins again 3am and I'm accepting the apologies that I never received 3am and i'm coming to terms with the lies that I never believed I was always blissfully ignorant to the truths you kept as secrets painfully aware of all the lies you cowered under 3am and I'm simply searching for the truth in real ties and the pleasure in pain Can you give me that? I'm fixin' on how to rewind time, and fix the hands on your clock you know so that they match mine my thoughts sit on a grey cloud in my mind and I realize. I can't write anymore. without you--I can barely even breathe so tell me...how am I supposed to place two words standing together while this whole time I've been on my knees tick. tick. tick. 3am, that's when the clock blocked and my hand stopped how am gonna finish this ?... I guess I'm not. **** writer's block.

0

Jul 7, 2015

Jul 7, 2015 at 1:43 AM UTC

3am writer's block.

Tick Tick Tick. 3am. 3am. see. that's when the clock broke and I broke down Put my pride aside and decided I'd take ink to my crumpled up heart to write you a letter with the tainted blood you left flowing through my veins the, clock broke and now I'm wondering when mourning you ends and morning begins again 3am and I'm accepting the apologies that I never received 3am and i'm coming to terms with the lies that I never believed I was always blissfully ignorant to the truths you kept as secrets painfully aware of all the lies you cowered under 3am and I'm simply searching for the truth in real ties and the pleasure in pain Can you give me that? I'm fixin' on how to rewind time, and fix the hands on your clock you know so that they match mine my thoughts sit on a grey cloud in my mind and I realize. I can't write anymore. without you--I can barely even breathe so tell me...how am I supposed to place two words standing together while this whole time I've been on my knees tick. tick. tick. 3am, that's when the clock blocked and my hand stopped how am gonna finish this ?... I guess I'm not. **** writer's block.

32

Hey. I just wanted to let you know that I’m done. If I ever loved you at all… I don’t love you anymore. True, lately I’ve been lonely, and if I told you that I missed you, I don’t miss you I promise I’m just bored. You were already here, and I needed a muse. I was trying to talk to you But you wouldn’t listen. I was getting tired of the “Miss Yous”; they were starting to feel misused. So I cut you loose. Cause I was tired of the lies as well. No games, we both grown. And we both know **** well that nothing resembles the truth more than what is true So what does that make you? Maybe I’m a fool because I didn’t listen when they tried to put me up on game about you. Let’s play a game, and for once let’s not make it about you. I dare you to tell me the truth…and while I wait, I’ll tell you mine. 1. What’s true is that I’ve been lying to myself while making up excuses for you. 2. I ignored every lip stick stain, 2am phone call, and deceit-scented fragrance...thinking that made me a rider. 3. I even decided to dedicate my poems to someone new, but two wrongs don’t make a writer. Maybe I’m a fool, because I always end up giving the wrong people the right pieces of me... Remember when I used to tell you that I was fat? And you’d reply, “No, you’re beautiful” I wondered why I couldn’t be both. Remember when you told me that you loved me, so you’d never cheat? I wonder why I didn’t think you could do both. You were looking for real, while real was looking at you. You were QUICK to give up something real when something close started looking at you too. You reached into my soul and removed my vital organs. Broke my ribcage to make a home for your heart…now tell me WHAT THE HELL am I supposed to do with a broken ribcage and an empty space? I can’t even blame you…by always putting you first, I’ve taught you that I always come second. I made your love home, my favorite place & on the weekends you made HER home, your favorite place. You were my poetry, my safe place. My lock my heart up and don’t tell anybody where you keep the safe…place. It’s funny though, because it seems that we had galaxies between us And yet you still needed space. Shout out to the pain that gave me understanding Shout out to the pain that helped me realize what space meant. I remember pretending to be every girl that you’ve ever been with, Like you were a ****** and I was your first. Like you were an atheist and I was the first church you ever stepped into I loved you. Bruh, I talked to God about you. I pretended to be the only girl you ever encountered so technically I was the only one, but I was never the only once because I was never the only choice that you had to choose from. I remember you telling me that I would never have to compete with another soul. I wonder why I believed you…hmm I guess I was scoping the competition with my eyes closed. Not closed too tight to notice you trying to pull wool over them though. In my mom’s hopeless attempts to console me, she told me that time heals all wounds…as if she forgot that all wounds still hurt for some time. But its fine... my palms are too small to hold grudges. I’m done. It’s crazy though, I swear I could write journals worth of poetry to you But when it comes time to speak, my voice gets caught in my throat every single time. Not this time. Baby our love was like a poetic metaphor. It was either me or her…I guess you chose who you were riding for.

0

Jun 19, 2015

Jun 19, 2015 at 12:54 PM UTC

voicemail: poetic metaphor

Hey. I just wanted to let you know that I’m done. If I ever loved you at all… I don’t love you anymore. True, lately I’ve been lonely, and if I told you that I missed you, I don’t miss you I promise I’m just bored. You were already here, and I needed a muse. I was trying to talk to you But you wouldn’t listen. I was getting tired of the “Miss Yous”; they were starting to feel misused. So I cut you loose. Cause I was tired of the lies as well. No games, we both grown. And we both know **** well that nothing resembles the truth more than what is true So what does that make you? Maybe I’m a fool because I didn’t listen when they tried to put me up on game about you. Let’s play a game, and for once let’s not make it about you. I dare you to tell me the truth…and while I wait, I’ll tell you mine. 1. What’s true is that I’ve been lying to myself while making up excuses for you. 2. I ignored every lip stick stain, 2am phone call, and deceit-scented fragrance...thinking that made me a rider. 3. I even decided to dedicate my poems to someone new, but two wrongs don’t make a writer. Maybe I’m a fool, because I always end up giving the wrong people the right pieces of me... Remember when I used to tell you that I was fat? And you’d reply, “No, you’re beautiful” I wondered why I couldn’t be both. Remember when you told me that you loved me, so you’d never cheat? I wonder why I didn’t think you could do both. You were looking for real, while real was looking at you. You were QUICK to give up something real when something close started looking at you too. You reached into my soul and removed my vital organs. Broke my ribcage to make a home for your heart…now tell me WHAT THE HELL am I supposed to do with a broken ribcage and an empty space? I can’t even blame you…by always putting you first, I’ve taught you that I always come second. I made your love home, my favorite place & on the weekends you made HER home, your favorite place. You were my poetry, my safe place. My lock my heart up and don’t tell anybody where you keep the safe…place. It’s funny though, because it seems that we had galaxies between us And yet you still needed space. Shout out to the pain that gave me understanding Shout out to the pain that helped me realize what space meant. I remember pretending to be every girl that you’ve ever been with, Like you were a ****** and I was your first. Like you were an atheist and I was the first church you ever stepped into I loved you. Bruh, I talked to God about you. I pretended to be the only girl you ever encountered so technically I was the only one, but I was never the only once because I was never the only choice that you had to choose from. I remember you telling me that I would never have to compete with another soul. I wonder why I believed you…hmm I guess I was scoping the competition with my eyes closed. Not closed too tight to notice you trying to pull wool over them though. In my mom’s hopeless attempts to console me, she told me that time heals all wounds…as if she forgot that all wounds still hurt for some time. But its fine... my palms are too small to hold grudges. I’m done. It’s crazy though, I swear I could write journals worth of poetry to you But when it comes time to speak, my voice gets caught in my throat every single time. Not this time. Baby our love was like a poetic metaphor. It was either me or her…I guess you chose who you were riding for.

53

Tell young girls The truth about love. How it is almost always lost. Almost never enough… That it is often just that. almost. And “almost” is a poison Will taste good on the tongue But bitter in the throat. Will sit in your stomach like question. will never give an answer for the tears It makes of you. Tell them of the tears. How the tears are happily ever after’s They are prince charming’s and glass slippers. They are romance novels and first kisses... Running away from us. Leaving us with our wounds and wonder. Force-feeding us reality in its heavy muck. Prepare them for reality. There is beauty somewhere in the pain. For we are a pained people – us humans a crumbling city conquered by our wants A wanted mob fiending for the delusion of love that love is perfect. enough. no matter what we smile through in the daytime. none can escape The late night why’s. None can escape the irrelevance of our lies. Nor the cold pillow Nor the moment of clarity In our beds Where not even touch Comes close to enough.

0

Jun 19, 2015

Jun 19, 2015 at 12:51 PM UTC

no one told me

Tell young girls The truth about love. How it is almost always lost. Almost never enough… That it is often just that. almost. And “almost” is a poison Will taste good on the tongue But bitter in the throat. Will sit in your stomach like question. will never give an answer for the tears It makes of you. Tell them of the tears. How the tears are happily ever after’s They are prince charming’s and glass slippers. They are romance novels and first kisses... Running away from us. Leaving us with our wounds and wonder. Force-feeding us reality in its heavy muck. Prepare them for reality. There is beauty somewhere in the pain. For we are a pained people – us humans a crumbling city conquered by our wants A wanted mob fiending for the delusion of love that love is perfect. enough. no matter what we smile through in the daytime. none can escape The late night why’s. None can escape the irrelevance of our lies. Nor the cold pillow Nor the moment of clarity In our beds Where not even touch Comes close to enough.

36

I am not a poet. I am the air before a storm. The weak in your knees. The smile on your heart. I am. I am not a poet. I am the aftermath of sin. I am the godlike sworn into pages. Scripture is my tongue, to fold like weak genes That strike to be like matches I am beckoned fire. I am not a poet. I am not a believer. We were raised by the last unfortunately; I do not believe in “leaders” or “followers”, I do not believe in “society” or “democracy” This generation is lost. I do not believe in found. I do not believe in freedom. When we are only “free” to be everything but our souls. The truth is…I do not write poetry. I birth it whenever God needs a favor so When my pen bares fruit know it’s divine nature refined. I define nature. HOLD UP. WE define nature. Eve am I in the garden of Eden, feeding the Adam in my spirit That speaks in tongue, I taste the susurrus sounds swishing like a serpents swearing Bite into this forbidden, swallow sin, make ink stain of this metaphor On the fabric of your perception The truth is, I do not write. I create life that’s been a part of God’s plan Since sonogram; my divine right. I am not a poet. I am a contradiction. I am everything including nothing. I am the song the caged bird sings. Once it’s freed. I am the silence before a bomb. I simply do not believe. This generation was raised by the last, but I would rather raise hell Then praise heaven to be a place where the gates are too white to embrace the black Of the sin I’ve committed I am not a poet. I write because I want God to hear me. This Chose ink is the closest voice from heaven like, blessed cursive Curses curved like Sacred scribble Revised, I’ve rised, correction, raised. I revise like rewritten history; I’ve witness lies, yet mystery Lies within the truth, somehow. I’m no doctor, but if I were, I would prescribe patience. I just want God to hear me, I will listen…but for now I am sincerely seeking the God within self, I believe in Other.

0

Jun 18, 2015

Jun 18, 2015 at 11:13 PM UTC

I am everything, including nothing.

I am not a poet. I am the air before a storm. The weak in your knees. The smile on your heart. I am. I am not a poet. I am the aftermath of sin. I am the godlike sworn into pages. Scripture is my tongue, to fold like weak genes That strike to be like matches I am beckoned fire. I am not a poet. I am not a believer. We were raised by the last unfortunately; I do not believe in “leaders” or “followers”, I do not believe in “society” or “democracy” This generation is lost. I do not believe in found. I do not believe in freedom. When we are only “free” to be everything but our souls. The truth is…I do not write poetry. I birth it whenever God needs a favor so When my pen bares fruit know it’s divine nature refined. I define nature. HOLD UP. WE define nature. Eve am I in the garden of Eden, feeding the Adam in my spirit That speaks in tongue, I taste the susurrus sounds swishing like a serpents swearing Bite into this forbidden, swallow sin, make ink stain of this metaphor On the fabric of your perception The truth is, I do not write. I create life that’s been a part of God’s plan Since sonogram; my divine right. I am not a poet. I am a contradiction. I am everything including nothing. I am the song the caged bird sings. Once it’s freed. I am the silence before a bomb. I simply do not believe. This generation was raised by the last, but I would rather raise hell Then praise heaven to be a place where the gates are too white to embrace the black Of the sin I’ve committed I am not a poet. I write because I want God to hear me. This Chose ink is the closest voice from heaven like, blessed cursive Curses curved like Sacred scribble Revised, I’ve rised, correction, raised. I revise like rewritten history; I’ve witness lies, yet mystery Lies within the truth, somehow. I’m no doctor, but if I were, I would prescribe patience. I just want God to hear me, I will listen…but for now I am sincerely seeking the God within self, I believe in Other.

49

I tend to, Give my all without expectations of receiving something of equal worth So I end up in bed accompanied by my emptiness Feeling worth less than the word less Because I wear my emotions on my face and I can’t seem to separate the Pain from the passion. I guess it’s my fault that this happened. I guess it’s my fault, and since I’m not one to make allegations I have no patience I end up accepting less than I deserve, and I’ve always heard That I can be whatever I want to be, and it’s up to me to turn my daydreams Into realities, but in reality, the concept of reality is all new to me I have a problem. I tend to, Give my all without expectations to, receive something of equal worth What am I worth? I’m not sure but my…soul contains the universe And beauty is in the hush of the trees Misconceived mix match of half-baked beliefs But I’m not one to make allegations, I have no patience Recycled existence of inspiration I’ve always heard…never judge a book by its cover So if I’m judged for doing me That’s another brand new cavity across the meaning of the word humanity That’s another false rumor spread Another he said she said text read Another person’s confidence dead. But I can solve the California water crisis with the tears that I have not shed. I wear my emotions on my face, but do not be confused by the lack of emotion that I show. See, whenever you’re invited to a funeral, we all know that you’re supposed to go, but we do not cry for the ones we do not know What are you worth? You are a slave to your mind and can’t see what is, for what it is for. Helloo, this is the 21st century and we don’t need chains to make slaves out of people anymore. If you’re lost, insecure, and feeling worthless, give yourself a worth test. They’ll call you dramatic, but I’ll call you my living protest.

0

Jun 18, 2015

Jun 18, 2015 at 10:59 PM UTC

Worthless, this is my protest

I tend to, Give my all without expectations of receiving something of equal worth So I end up in bed accompanied by my emptiness Feeling worth less than the word less Because I wear my emotions on my face and I can’t seem to separate the Pain from the passion. I guess it’s my fault that this happened. I guess it’s my fault, and since I’m not one to make allegations I have no patience I end up accepting less than I deserve, and I’ve always heard That I can be whatever I want to be, and it’s up to me to turn my daydreams Into realities, but in reality, the concept of reality is all new to me I have a problem. I tend to, Give my all without expectations to, receive something of equal worth What am I worth? I’m not sure but my…soul contains the universe And beauty is in the hush of the trees Misconceived mix match of half-baked beliefs But I’m not one to make allegations, I have no patience Recycled existence of inspiration I’ve always heard…never judge a book by its cover So if I’m judged for doing me That’s another brand new cavity across the meaning of the word humanity That’s another false rumor spread Another he said she said text read Another person’s confidence dead. But I can solve the California water crisis with the tears that I have not shed. I wear my emotions on my face, but do not be confused by the lack of emotion that I show. See, whenever you’re invited to a funeral, we all know that you’re supposed to go, but we do not cry for the ones we do not know What are you worth? You are a slave to your mind and can’t see what is, for what it is for. Helloo, this is the 21st century and we don’t need chains to make slaves out of people anymore. If you’re lost, insecure, and feeling worthless, give yourself a worth test. They’ll call you dramatic, but I’ll call you my living protest.

34

I love you like a shooting star. I love you like I love a day where everything goes right. I love you as certain dark things are to be loved. It’s a secret, between the shadow and the soul As if you were your own galaxy in itself The moon lives in the lining of your skin I love your lips. Our awkward stares I love your passion Even though you probably fail to see it I know it’s there because… Just like shooting stars, not everyone gets to see one in a lifetime But that makes them no less real, or any less magnificent. I love you without knowing how, or when, or why, or where Where do these feelings come from? I love you without insecurities or pride I love you like I love the thrill of pure infatuation I love you like R-J loved Kim K for 42 minutes and 12 seconds I love you like XO I love you from the grip of my soul I love you like a shooting star But I don’t love you like I loved you yesterday

0

Jun 18, 2015

Jun 18, 2015 at 10:55 PM UTC

not like yesterday

I love you like a shooting star. I love you like I love a day where everything goes right. I love you as certain dark things are to be loved. It’s a secret, between the shadow and the soul As if you were your own galaxy in itself The moon lives in the lining of your skin I love your lips. Our awkward stares I love your passion Even though you probably fail to see it I know it’s there because… Just like shooting stars, not everyone gets to see one in a lifetime But that makes them no less real, or any less magnificent. I love you without knowing how, or when, or why, or where Where do these feelings come from? I love you without insecurities or pride I love you like I love the thrill of pure infatuation I love you like R-J loved Kim K for 42 minutes and 12 seconds I love you like XO I love you from the grip of my soul I love you like a shooting star But I don’t love you like I loved you yesterday

22

In order for you to receive me in the most beautiful light Flip switch the theory of imperfection To mute unassuming dark So that I may be unconditional sound between you Like a vortex of grey noise A pool of dead strings tied down Drowning in a found harmony Besides the scripture Binded in your fingertips Besides the god in your touch Besides the soul splitting of your stare The fixed mess of your hair The growl in your whisper The rain in your voice that rips, so heavily through the silence of air Besides the storm of your kiss Guided by the lightning of your tongue Besides the sun sleeping in your smile Making my every night want to be a day Dreaming. Beside you, I lay dissolving in an aura that burns like love.

0

Jun 18, 2015

Jun 18, 2015 at 10:35 PM UTC

Yours Truly, A pool of dead strings

In order for you to receive me in the most beautiful light Flip switch the theory of imperfection To mute unassuming dark So that I may be unconditional sound between you Like a vortex of grey noise A pool of dead strings tied down Drowning in a found harmony Besides the scripture Binded in your fingertips Besides the god in your touch Besides the soul splitting of your stare The fixed mess of your hair The growl in your whisper The rain in your voice that rips, so heavily through the silence of air Besides the storm of your kiss Guided by the lightning of your tongue Besides the sun sleeping in your smile Making my every night want to be a day Dreaming. Beside you, I lay dissolving in an aura that burns like love.

20