eden4p - Hello Poetry

We can only dig so deep beneath our skins. We are merely animals. I am a women with possibilites, an apple one in a million hunted My mysteries are to remain legend And I intend to keep it that way. © Salamasina Talaepa #CriticalSamoanPoet

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May 1, 2017

May 1, 2017 at 7:46 AM UTC

BENEATH THE SKIN OF A WOMAN: (poetry/writing)

We can only dig so deep beneath our skins. We are merely animals. I am a women with possibilites, an apple one in a million hunted My mysteries are to remain legend And I intend to keep it that way. © Salamasina Talaepa #CriticalSamoanPoet

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I was assembled in carful manner, like an artist with a brutal wrist learning to be gentle at the hand With his fingers a stroke per touch was liquid fire... and the ambers bled. In an age of chaste- my uniform and I elaborated together, right before the architect checked in. To measure our dogma do we have the skill of a plank? Grown enough, he'd engage me at force. The utensils of my porcine frame had taken attention- and tention off from his sore eyes. Across the alley walls where we wildly grind, contrary to a man compelled. And like a beast, he took liberty in between walls my temple built, and broke them back down to a soundly fever. © Salamasina Talaepa

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Apr 27, 2017

Apr 27, 2017 at 6:10 AM UTC

BROKEN TEMPLE: (poetry/writing)

I was assembled in carful manner, like an artist with a brutal wrist learning to be gentle at the hand With his fingers a stroke per touch was liquid fire... and the ambers bled. In an age of chaste- my uniform and I elaborated together, right before the architect checked in. To measure our dogma do we have the skill of a plank? Grown enough, he'd engage me at force. The utensils of my porcine frame had taken attention- and tention off from his sore eyes. Across the alley walls where we wildly grind, contrary to a man compelled. And like a beast, he took liberty in between walls my temple built, and broke them back down to a soundly fever. © Salamasina Talaepa

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LOVE tastes like a clipped wing falling from heaven. A spill from my mouth leave the rose in pixie dust air on the throne of my tongue- dancing so my words can send rainbows to hill tops reaching the sky. © Salamasina T.

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Apr 21, 2017

Apr 21, 2017 at 7:12 PM UTC

Love II (writing/poetry)

LOVE tastes like a clipped wing falling from heaven. A spill from my mouth leave the rose in pixie dust air on the throne of my tongue- dancing so my words can send rainbows to hill tops reaching the sky. © Salamasina T.

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(poetry/writing) -Evidently, a push over is not a factor to me- The propaganda on a troubled tongue will spoil truth, by a coal miner's lung I dive into that crazy sarcasm, chucking spit slammin' pessimistic tactic on holy writ's Word of the "everyday" is just simply "stop" I cream like a bee, melt it down like a lollipop I put road block on every crooked corner keep on the path with my ... sword ... shield ... and amor Durning my journey I slay every red dragon I **** with mighty wings like a Queen of Athens I roach clip the weeds and lawn the poison Ivey I hand them out word life but it come spicy they struggle to handle yet they forfeit equality Because when if they stop to think about it Their own souls are like lonely vagrant ships I gather an eye from each of them red dragons ... tossed ... trashed ... abandoned © 2016 Salamasina Talaepa

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Apr 19, 2017

Apr 19, 2017 at 7:56 PM UTC

Untitled

(poetry/writing) -Evidently, a push over is not a factor to me- The propaganda on a troubled tongue will spoil truth, by a coal miner's lung I dive into that crazy sarcasm, chucking spit slammin' pessimistic tactic on holy writ's Word of the "everyday" is just simply "stop" I cream like a bee, melt it down like a lollipop I put road block on every crooked corner keep on the path with my ... sword ... shield ... and amor Durning my journey I slay every red dragon I **** with mighty wings like a Queen of Athens I roach clip the weeds and lawn the poison Ivey I hand them out word life but it come spicy they struggle to handle yet they forfeit equality Because when if they stop to think about it Their own souls are like lonely vagrant ships I gather an eye from each of them red dragons ... tossed ... trashed ... abandoned © 2016 Salamasina Talaepa

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When I steadily hold my pen I spoil the advantage of paper while my coffee mug rule my air sitting beside this notebook I run simplicity like scriptures highlighting the moments stirred because it's sometimes hard to take in stride the echoes the sounds that evacuate all positive energies that lived deep within them I can't even remember a time someone else shared the feeling of deep affliction and the miss along side me and live broken by words and not by hand I can't even remember a time where I stood still frozen in edgy fashion or in kerosene burning in razor cut fumes that always bind in any control pushing my pen forward... I am caught in suspension realizing that I am still venturing on without light cradling in my chest to hold the convention of agony the carnival of deluded sadness hiding behind my fake smiles ... I applaud myself I keep dreaming heavily of a brighter poetry that my pen may reward and that in between the brackets it may find some kind of solitude escape the prison of aggression dry out the red ink and spill in the blue like heaven camouflaged where I can't tell my wrong from blanks I never intended to spoil my paper I never wrote in pity of self nor to flaunt I only wanted you to breathe with me the beauty that is still inside and watch the roses grow.. and bloom. © 2016 Salamasina T.

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Apr 8, 2017

Apr 8, 2017 at 5:05 AM UTC

CREATIVITY FROM THE BREATH: (poetry)

When I steadily hold my pen I spoil the advantage of paper while my coffee mug rule my air sitting beside this notebook I run simplicity like scriptures highlighting the moments stirred because it's sometimes hard to take in stride the echoes the sounds that evacuate all positive energies that lived deep within them I can't even remember a time someone else shared the feeling of deep affliction and the miss along side me and live broken by words and not by hand I can't even remember a time where I stood still frozen in edgy fashion or in kerosene burning in razor cut fumes that always bind in any control pushing my pen forward... I am caught in suspension realizing that I am still venturing on without light cradling in my chest to hold the convention of agony the carnival of deluded sadness hiding behind my fake smiles ... I applaud myself I keep dreaming heavily of a brighter poetry that my pen may reward and that in between the brackets it may find some kind of solitude escape the prison of aggression dry out the red ink and spill in the blue like heaven camouflaged where I can't tell my wrong from blanks I never intended to spoil my paper I never wrote in pity of self nor to flaunt I only wanted you to breathe with me the beauty that is still inside and watch the roses grow.. and bloom. © 2016 Salamasina T.

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Decisions decisions when my mind can't make up many latters to the moon every step went unnoticed the chill between my every toe as I make every go hence forth to a destiny or a step back surfing the scale for even if when the sun may burn when it sets in my eyes deep inside I am content to stay on a natural high STAYING cool.. on the inside woe is me sometimes but who am I to give up this latter I push pull out my shades let my hair down not only the night is kind to me I can make due for a hazy day all though livid as the sun there is no time to punish him I know there is a smile there we are friends rising together finding a soft place to fall ..stayinhg cool on the inside. © 2015 Salamasina T.

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Apr 8, 2017

Apr 8, 2017 at 5:00 AM UTC

STAYING COOL.. ON THE INSIDE: (writing/poetry)

Decisions decisions when my mind can't make up many latters to the moon every step went unnoticed the chill between my every toe as I make every go hence forth to a destiny or a step back surfing the scale for even if when the sun may burn when it sets in my eyes deep inside I am content to stay on a natural high STAYING cool.. on the inside woe is me sometimes but who am I to give up this latter I push pull out my shades let my hair down not only the night is kind to me I can make due for a hazy day all though livid as the sun there is no time to punish him I know there is a smile there we are friends rising together finding a soft place to fall ..stayinhg cool on the inside. © 2015 Salamasina T.

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My head was hit by a harpoon and it bled stars. Like the mother medeor unbreakable in the skies, Like the fluster in his eyes I am pushed further into the core friction of butterflies rumbling in my belly. I am in love. © Salamasina T.

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Apr 8, 2017

Apr 8, 2017 at 3:23 AM UTC

RUMBLE: (poetry short/writing)

My head was hit by a harpoon and it bled stars. Like the mother medeor unbreakable in the skies, Like the fluster in his eyes I am pushed further into the core friction of butterflies rumbling in my belly. I am in love. © Salamasina T.

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A strong woman always has a secret garden. Inside is everything a blind person will never achieve by looking down on her, or even looking past her. © Salamasina T.

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Apr 8, 2017

Apr 8, 2017 at 3:19 AM UTC

A Strong Woman

A strong woman always has a secret garden. Inside is everything a blind person will never achieve by looking down on her, or even looking past her. © Salamasina T.

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THE LYRICS OF LIFE: (writing/poetry) I write lyrics of life under willow trees and pastel skies still pondering an existence while humming melodies of nothing because my mind's eye can no longer see Dancing to an empty beat known only by the moon mesmerized by the sea and all its wiles I share wishes with stars praying for a new muse for my inspiration has died and I can only imagine greatness while i scribble down the lyrics of a life passed by... © 2016 Salamasina T.

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Apr 8, 2017

Apr 8, 2017 at 3:03 AM UTC

Untitled:

THE LYRICS OF LIFE: (writing/poetry) I write lyrics of life under willow trees and pastel skies still pondering an existence while humming melodies of nothing because my mind's eye can no longer see Dancing to an empty beat known only by the moon mesmerized by the sea and all its wiles I share wishes with stars praying for a new muse for my inspiration has died and I can only imagine greatness while i scribble down the lyrics of a life passed by... © 2016 Salamasina T.

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