You have the soul of a lion
Buried deep beneath lessons
Of inferiority and knowing your place
They've told you where you belong
How you're meant to be
But they're wrong
Deep inside you is a predator
Itching for you to see
See the fire in your eyes
Or feel the sharpness of your teeth and tongue
You may not have the mane you want
But you have a mane of fire
Burning from your soul
Pushing free from your skin
No man can stand a lion
You are more powerful than your body
More important than their words
You're the king of the Savannah
And the king of your heart
All you need to do
Is find your roar
Sep 12, 2017
Sep 12, 2017 at 10:13 AM UTC
When times get hard,
When times get rough.
When times get stressful,
You need to be tough.
You need to stand tall,
Be sure to stand your ground.
Make sure to smile,
To brighten the world around.
No matter what you go through,
You will never be alone.
Find that single light in the darkness,
And don't let your heart be stone.
You will one day make it,
Right out of the sorrow.
Live as if you were dying,
And won't make it to tomorrow.
Sep 12, 2017
Sep 12, 2017 at 10:12 AM UTC
Once a year on All Hallows’ Eve we wear our masks with pride,
but masks aren’t just for Halloween, we use our masks to hide.
We fool ourselves by thinking we don’t wear them all the time,
but all the things that we conceal each day should be a crime.
Society has turned against us and created this beauty brawl.
They taught us if it’s not obvious, it’s not beautiful at all.
They told us to use make up and to cover up our scars,
but how can we be beautiful if we’re covering who we are?
Some men may want a woman who is beautiful inside,
then turn around and pick the most overt beauty in sight.
Some women say they want a man who’s open, honest and real,
but turn around and pick vampires who don’t know how to feel.
It seems no one is truthful with the things they want the most.
It’s like we all just hide so much we’re practically living ghosts.
We live in a world where beauty is one of our greatest tasks,
but how do we know if we’re beautiful if we never take off our masks?
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 7:11 PM UTC
imagine having
to walk through a fire
alone
somehow mornings spent
with you in my arms
breeds a different kind of light
swimming through the blinds
dancing on our skin
ships on rocky seas
shadows in your sheets
In your dreams
is that how it felt
before you had me
is that what still finds you
sometimes
on dark nights in my arms
i forgot to close the window last night
but no rain was forecast -
i wipe the water from your soft skin
.
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 7:09 PM UTC
We were stuck all night
in quicksand light
and talked for fifty three tequila
hours, from bench to bar, to
dusk lit park, to the rust and arch
of the Golden Gate Bridge—
death watched us from
windowsill alleyways, between drying
sheets and shirts, and men’s
underwear, while life
climbed down the fire escapes
to greet us.
You smiled, with your eyes—
illuminating the still
second hands of streets clocks,
and the whole
infinity of Time between.
We lit cigarettes in pedicabs
unspeaking, vibrating mind
telepathy at midnight between
imaginary African angels.
And your smell reminded
me of an art lined fireplace
I once knew in Buffalo, with no fire
burning, but a window lighted
neighbor ********** while
the Main Street sirens howled.
And we don’t know each other
anymore, but
I still remember the You,
who broke down crying
in a light green kitchen, trembling
before a dirtied stovetop, and
ending on a bed—
missing a life
you couldn’t remember
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 7:08 PM UTC
It’s obvious that I look at you
and see perfection; even where
there is none, even where
your ugly is. I know that’s why
I hear from you whenever you
feel rejected. Ultimately, you’re
going to find the door again
because you’re looking for
someone a little harder to tame,
and I’m going to end up the
rejected one who can’t seem
to understand why an outpour
of care isn’t enough for you to
stay with me. You call and your
apology is the meekest I’ve
seen, but I run to you faster
than I’ve run before because
it’s you. It’s you. It’s you. I want
to call you selfish but I forgive
you for it before the word makes
it past my mouth. I’m always so
happy to see you that I forget
to ask you to please let me go.
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 7:07 PM UTC
You asked me, mother, why I only ate six seeds, then,
and I didn’t know what to say, way back when.
Why six seeds?
Because I love the places living things grow,
but I love more the home of lifeless bones.
Why six seeds?
Because I love the summer breeze,
but I love more the falling leaves.
Why six seeds?
Because I love the blue skies,
but I love more the things that died.
Why six seeds?
Because I love you, mother,
but I love more my broken lover.
Why six seeds?
Because I love the echoes of that distant shore,
but I love my freedom so much more.
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 7:06 PM UTC
1) I love you not for who you are,
but who I am when i’m by your side.
2) No person deserves your tears,
and who deserves them won’t make you cry.
3) Just because someone doesn’t love you as you wish,
it doesn’t mean you’re not loved with all his/her being.
4) A true friend is the one,
who hold your hand and touches your heart.
5) The worst way to miss someone is,
to be seated by him/her and know you’ll never have him/her.
6) Never stop smiling not even when you’re sad,
someone might fall in love with your smile.
7) You may only be a person in this world,
but for someone you’re the world.
8) Don’t spend time with someone,
who doesn’t care spending it with you.
9) Maybe God wants you to meet many wrong people,
before you meet the right one, so when it happens you’ll be thankful.
10) Don't cry because it came to an end,
smile because it happened.
11) There will always be people who’ll hurt you,
so you need to continue trusting, just be careful.
12) Become a better person and be sure to know who you are,
before meeting someone new and hoping that person knows who you are.
13) Don’t struggle so much,
best things happen when not expected.
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 7:05 PM UTC
if i’m going to see you again,
why did the back
of your blue dress shirt seem like
such a finality?
what bitter ends are these we taste,
spitting the seeds of our sunflower love
out into the pavement,
god but
what we had was
so ******* beautiful;
i could never love you but
that doesn’t mean
i didn’t care at all.
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 7:03 PM UTC
when she was 7, a boy pushed her on the playground
she fell headfirst into the dirt and came up with a mouthful of gravel and lines of blood chasing each other down her legs
when she told her teacher what happened, she laughed and said ‘boys will be boys honey don’t let it bother you
he probably just thinks you’re cute’
but the thing is,
when you tell a little girl who has rocks in her teeth and scabs on her knees that hurt and attention are the same
you teach her that boys show their affection through aggression
and she grows into a young woman who constantly mistakes the two
because no one ever taught her the difference
‘boys will be boys’
turns into
‘that’s how he shows his love’
and bruises start to feel like the imprint of lips
she goes to school with a busted mouth in high school and says she was hit with a basketball instead of his fist
the one adult she tells scolds her
‘you know he loses his temper easily
why the hell did you have to provoke him?’
so she shrinks
folds into herself, flinches every time a man raises his voice
by the time she’s 16 she’s learned her job well
be quiet, be soft, be easy
don’t give him a reason
but for all her efforts, he still finds one
‘boys will be boys’ rings in her head
‘boys will be boys
he doesn’t mean it
he can’t help it’
she’s 7 years old on the playground again
with a mouth full of rocks and blood that tastes like copper love
because boys will be boys baby don’t you know
that’s just how he shows he cares
she’s 18 now and they’re drunk
in the split second it takes for her words to enter his ears they’re ruined
like a glass heirloom being dropped between the hands of generations
she meant them to open his arms but they curl his fists and suddenly his hands are on her and her head hits the wall and all of the ******* words in the world couldn’t save them in this moment
she touches the bruise the next day
boys will be boys
aggression, affection, violence, love
how does she separate them when she learned so early that they’re inextricably bound, tangled in a constant tug-of-war
she draws tally marks on her walls ratios of kisses to bruises
one entire side of her bedroom turns purple, one entire side of her body
boys will be boys will be boys will be boys
when she’s 20, a boy touches her hips and she jumps
he asks her who the hell taught her to be scared like that and she wants to laugh
doesn’t he know that boys will be boys?
it took her 13 years to unlearn that lesson from the playground
so I guess what I’m trying to say is
i will talk until my voice is hoarse so that my little sister understands that aggression and affection are two entirely separate things
baby they exist in difference universes
my niece can’t even speak yet but I think I’ll start with her now
don’t ever accept the excuse that boys will be boys
don’t ever let him put his hands on you like that
if you see hate blazing in his eyes don’t you ever confuse it with love
baby love won’t hurt when it comes
you won’t have to hide it under long sleeves during the summer
and
the only reason he should ever reach out his hand
is to hold yours
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 9:47 PM UTC