I imagine you calm,
A sentient being.
The world to which you bow to unfolding before your eyes, a kind of rapturing. Finally unwinding to reveal the truth it has always held: you are tired and the rain seems to never stop long enough to let you empty,
It pours,
Endlessly. Leaving streams into which you drown.
It perches atop your shoulders, this tiredness, chirping songs not of succor, not of hope but a call to your final moments. A ministration.
To a resting place you do not know.
Please do not answer.
Dec 29, 2019
Dec 29, 2019 at 7:03 PM UTC
I wrote you a love note
It said too much of me,
I set it aflame.
Apr 25, 2017
Apr 25, 2017 at 5:30 PM UTC
Native in the hearts of your children you are.
Embedded deeply in their soil, spawning fertile seeds only to bid farewell too soon.
Your roots firmly rooted,
solidifying your solid stance. Imprinted your features in all of us, all just sketches of the you you used to be.
They tell tales of an antique casanova who once was,
a man who loved dearly for an eternity that lasted a few heartbeats.
I used to draw you in the margins of my notepad,
pretending I remembered more than your smile.
But I was fond of the man who took part in my creation,
the man whose name I carry with pride,
the man who gave me a family,
the man my mother fell for.
Words I never uttered come close to mind,
I'd mean them if I said them out loud.
But here, among bent, wilting trees you lay, forever.
We're standing on the ground reserved for souls bygone, transfusing memories of you in one beautiful picture.
**We love you,
I love you
Here's to you, father.**
18/02/1961--01/10/2009
Aug 23, 2014
Aug 23, 2014 at 6:19 PM UTC
In the darkest corners you lurk with teeth snarling,
unleashing your claws to tear at her fragile skin.
The arrows of your pent up
anger never miss their target, her.
Time between dusk to dawn
filled with ink stained air,
You dug your paws on her once fragile mind,
excavating the emotions she
boxed and buried.
Tears she shed when you mined her heart with crass hands,
Shot daggers with your eyes,
Stained countless sheets of paper.
Remember:
Nothing Builds Character More Than An Antagonist
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 8:45 PM UTC
White paint peels off to leave the walls bare,
naked and exposed to
elements.
Much like her soul.
Starved of love and affection,
accepted but not wanted.
Tolerated.
The sun casts her shadows on those
she frowns upon,
leaving winding roads to spiral out of control.
Time shifts her world from
it's axis as it progresses,
it doesn't heal,
it doesn't lessen,
It just is.
Echoes of your voice ricochets
to find her heart,
carrying the exact weight they
did the second they fled your tongue,
never shedding an ounce of momentum
"The waves of pain
that had only lapped at her
before now
reared up high and pulled her under .."
Aug 17, 2014
Aug 17, 2014 at 9:01 PM UTC
*The August Moon saw the rise of a phoenix from the ashes,
In the huts of poverty was she born,
An arrow of peace,
The changing touch of a stranger
She, the one with an old soul
She, the one with joy
She, the one with a vibrant smile
She, the one with a heart of gold
She, the one with selfless love
Born and bred with the tenacity of a lioness, courage did she ooze with her every day stride
A delicate orchid, with the raw beauty of a black rose
A gift amongst the blessed
She, a pillar of strength
She, a beacon of hope
She, a wild heart
She, a rebellious soul
She, a free spirit
She, a phenomenal woman
Floundered the earth for her offspring did she,
Gave wholeheartedly,
Loved wholeheartedly,
Lived fully did she.
Still now, she molds from her final resting place a queen and king
She, my mother.*
**Happy Birthday Mom!!!
12/08/1974--12/11/2008
Rest In Peace**
Aug 11, 2014
Aug 11, 2014 at 6:38 PM UTC
Adorning a lover's finger,
Gracing necks of the rich
Illuminating in the dark,
but stained with innocent blood
Young hands toiling in mines of Sierra Leone to upscale stores,
Where entrance she's denied.
Such beauty they hold,
Sparkling, aren't they?
A measure of worth,
And status upon the wealthy.
Extracted with blood stained, trembling fingers for the pleasure of who,
still remains a mystery to me.
Dear Us
Their blood is crying for us,
The land that soaks up their blood welcomes infertility, are we really born with the mark of Cain?
Graves upon graves,
Mutilated legs and hands,
A rifle in the hands of a 12-year old boy plucked from his haven to a war he does not understand,
Bid peace farewell
Diamonds Don't Shine In Africa
Aug 6, 2014
Aug 6, 2014 at 7:05 PM UTC
*You are a fiery cloud of confidence.
An unbending
tree in the midst of a raging storm.
The quintessence of Africa,
The mother of nations,
An embodiment of royalty.
The essence of raw beauty,
You are the heart of Africa,
An undying flame of perfection,
A glint of hope.
You do not wilt under the sun,
Take pride in the pigment of your skin,
The fire in the color of your iris.
An epitome of courage and strength,
You are haven,
Utopia in dystopia.
You are every woman,
The beat of tribal drums.
You are music, poetry, dance, art.
You are a monument, a sculpture made by the Most High.
You are beautiful
You are Africa*
Jul 27, 2014
Jul 27, 2014 at 7:50 PM UTC
*I wrote my way out of the dark pages of my life.
I know what it's like to see your life hanging by a thread;
scraping your skin with your fingernails to stop yourself from crying;
weaving scars on your skin to get some high out of life.
Smiling on the outside, but tearing up on the inside.
I've been there,
disguising last rites as declarations of love;
holding out for that one guy for some unjust reason.
I was once told I was beautiful on the inside,
I used to scoff at that thought.
I couldn't be beautiful,
my metaphorical skin was sewed and patched, ruined and defiled
and there was nothing beautiful about that.
It took me a while to see that beauty for myself.
I was once that one girl sitting in corner at midnight
contemplating suicide over family tiffs, unrequited love, loss, loneliness, and every other
stuff that I couldn't deal with.
I can't look at my left wrist
without feeling some sort of disgust because of the tallies of pain
I left behind.
I had this habit of saying 'I'm always good' whenever asked
but I got tired of seeing illusions as reality,
I was tired of escaping my own life. I was not okay and I needed help.
I wish somebody had told me
this sooner:
MELANCHOLY IS NOT TRENDY, DEPRESSION IS NOT COOL,
CUTTING IS NOT A FASHION STATEMENT
SADNESS IS NOT ATTRACTIVE
It's actually sad that we,
teenagers,
advertise sadness as if it's something to be proud of.
YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL
YOU DON'T NEED VALIDATION FROM PEOPLE
DON'T LET HIM TELL YOU HE LIKES YOU BETTER WHEN YOU'RE BROKEN.
NO, SCARS DO NOT MAKE YOU ATTRACTIVE
SOME SCARS AREN'T WORTH HAVING
CRAZY IS NOT ****
**** IS NOT ALWAYS ****** SHEDDING A FEW KILOS WON'T MAKE HIM LIKE YOU ANY MORE THAN HE DOES
UNHEALTHY RELATIONSHIPS DON'T HEAL --words I wish I'd heard sooner
You are not broken beyond repair
YOU ARE A PHOENIX,
A PHOENIX MUST BURN TO EMERGE.*
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 8:14 PM UTC
When we look into today,
*Do our minds dial back to 16 June '76 to envision the torment
Our fallen heroes endured?
Is your vision blurred?
Mine isn't.
Their fight was just,
It was sacrificial
One by one they perished
But, even with blood and sweat slipping
Through their trembling fingers
They did not falter
They pushed boundaries
In order to create opportunities
They had a burning desire
For something greater,
For freedom
The freedom that we now bask in
Like it's just another day of leisure
"The youth of today are the leaders
of tomorrow", they say
Look in the mirror,
Are you really the leader of tomorrow?
Do you fit somewhere in that statement?
Me: No
Do we have the will to stand
Firm for what's right,
Against what's wrong
Or do we clam up, let the
Truth escape through broken doors?
We feed the stereotypes,
We fit perfectly into the stereotypes
We've been dubbed insubstantial,
Not layered, and one dimensional
What are we really after?
What are we doing to change that perspective?
No- what am I doing to change that??
Ask yourself, what would the
world have lost if you were not born?
Me: Nothing
But there are those who
understand that the meaning of "struggle"
Goes beyond the dictionary definition,
Those who look at the world
With crystal clear eyes
Those looking to make a difference
Those looking for a difference
We may be in freedom,
but we're not free at all
The chains are still bound to our
Wrists binding us from reaching
Out to the sun,
The chains are still tied to our
Feet hindering us from going further
We can stand united
Against the ****** government,
Against illiteracy,
Against poverty,
Against pointless wars,
Against abuse.
We can clench up our fists,
Ready to fight for what others
Led way for
I am, by no means, a beacon of
Hope (hypocrisy at it's best)
I'm uninformed, like they say
Ignorance is bliss
But I am not proud of it
We've come far since '94
We still can go further
"Together we can do more"*
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 10:28 AM UTC