For :My Love
You think you know what love is until you experience it in its purest form
I thought I knew what love was, what it meant to love and be love but with you I feel that has transformed
In words I’ve always found self expression
But there is no words in the human language that can explain what it feels like to experience the type of love in your possession
Your soul and spirit is so divine
Experiencing you has been a sign
A sign to that I am blessed. I am blessed to have had my soul intertwined
Intertwined with a kind of energy that leaves me fearless
I am at peace.
I have grown, I have evolved; and my spirit has ceased
My spirit has ceased a yearning to be accepted, because with you I can be bare and naked
I can present myself in any form and know that I will not be pressured
I will not be pressured to prove my worth
I feel rebirthed
I feel a new
I feel ready
I feel ready to love me because of how you love me
The person that I seek is also seeking me
We have been brought together to show each other
To show each other who we are as individuals
We have a love so pure it is lyrical
It is a love that yields passion and appreciation
It is love raw, and uncut
Love in its purest form; with the power to transform.
Dec 11, 2019
Dec 11, 2019 at 3:43 AM UTC
I am as beautiful as a flower,
As strong as the waves in the ocean
Yet my demons, they make me as delicate as a petal
And my roots they become feeble at the dusk of day when I lay in my bed of tears thinking about you;
I talk to God about you, I ask him to protect you and in return he asked me why do I settle
Because God, he kissed my roots and suddenly my flower bloomed
I tried to explain that it was you who made my demons temporarily disappear and it was you who made me feel like the world wasn’t so doomed
I talk to God about you, I ask him to ensure your happiness and in return he asked me what’s so special about you
I tried to explain that it was you who cared for my garden and woke up to ensure that my flowers were watered. I tried to show him that it was you aided the new growth and helped to pull out the weeds
I talk to God about you, I ask him when will I find someone like you again and in return he says this is just the start
He tells me of the many “yous” that will come around and plant new seeds, and fight different demons and more “yous” that will fill my garden with fertilizers only to rip it all apart
I talk to God about you, and I tell him none of the “yous” will be you and in return he asked me how deep was my roots that were ripped out and how delicate was my petals that fell off
I tried to explain the depth and delicacy but no words came out because there was never a you before and I didn’t even know that my garden existed before you
I talk to God about you, I ask him to protect you, I tell him how special you are, I talk to God about you
I am as beautiful as a flower, as strong as the waves in the oceans
I talk to God about you, and he reminds me that just like the roots in nature I will reattach and grow back stronger, and he reassures me that I’m only victim the “you” potion
And in return I still ask God to protect you.
Oct 10, 2017
Oct 10, 2017 at 5:12 AM UTC
Asian, Latina, Black, White
Why do we continue to base peace and love on sight
To try to build a world and community with segregation
We try to maintain law and order without instilling humanity and patience
We've created stereotypes that are passed from generation to generation
Kids growing up with nothing but self hate because they aren't Caucasian
Preaching "all lives matter" in every nation
But with every blink another man is dead
Another child is crying himself to bed
And another woman has let an opinion get to her head
So In a world full of hate and bloodshed
We must come all come to agreement and think with one mind and soul
And hope to be the change in generations untold
Uplifting each other with courage and bravery
Honoring the great Bob Marley and emancipating ourselves of mental slavery
Apr 2, 2016
Apr 2, 2016 at 12:42 AM UTC
One shot, two shot, three shot four; another young boy dead on the floor
Another young soul lost to self hate
Another young soul who bottled up everything inside of him until the he could no longer control all his despair
Every drop of hope drained, making him a living corpse
One shot. Anger. Two shot. Hate
Three shot depression.
Anger built from the agonizing pain of holding back every little confession
Hate from every kind of social judgement
Depression being the result of a young boy who could hold no more.
A young boy, a young soul, a life that was taken for granted.
One cut, two cut, three cut four; another depressed girl bleeding on the floor
Another young girl angry.
Angry because she was not enough
Her dark skin, short hair, was not beauty
One cut. hurt. Two cuts.Tears
three cuts. She Misunderstood
four cuts.no self worth
A beauty, a dime, and angry soul confronted
Skin that was cut because she had no self trust, no self identify, no self security
One dose, two dose, three dose four;
another drugged teen trying to heal open sores
Bad place, wrong friends, and bad decisions.
Angry at the world, making injections
Injections that only add to his state, but not enhance his being
A young teen trying to tame thier self,
Trying to numb the pain and suppress the anger.
One dose. Happy. Two doses. high. Three doses. Giddy. Four doses uncontrollably angry.
Angry with no outlet, no cooler.
A young soul that vein pops, skin gets redder and drugs that tame wild anger
One thought, two thoughts, three thoughts four; another poet opening a door
Another word manipulator, another creator, another young soul channeling his anger
Only the displeasure of this young boy, this young girl, this young teen, Is channeled through energy.
The anger of this being is carved into the products of trees, using ink and vocabulary
Words of hate, word of despair, words of situation misunderstood are now words channeled through self expressions
This is the poem of the poet who is angry.
Mar 21, 2016
Mar 21, 2016 at 8:27 PM UTC
I live in a generation where energy is mistaken for chemistry.
Where Hennessy is used as a substitution.
We substitute alcohol and drugs for love.
And every touch of temptation is mistaken to be permanent, we've lied to ourselves
Believing that everyone is the same, that every boy is full of **** and every girl is a *****
We've discarded what it's like to feel love, to feel it so deep it's mental, physical and emotional.
We connect the feeling of love with a ******** stroke into our core.
I live in a generation where we mistake social media and photography for quality time.
Where likes, followers, snapchat views is most important.
We don't know what's it's like to go to lunch or dinner and not check our devices.
We use group chats, as a vice for gatherings and togetherness
My generation is always complaining about being lonely, Misunderstood, and bored because my generation has mistaken lust and temptation, media and quantity for love and affection for time and quality.
Mar 8, 2016
Mar 8, 2016 at 7:30 PM UTC
Young dumb and stupid
She was beautiful, smart and exquisite.
But at the same time hurt, naive, and in love.
She gave her all to someone who didn't even know how to love himself
She learned him, changed for him, she made him her life
Only in return to receive hurt, guilt and strife
Sitting and crying ever god **** night
No exit, no escape, besides the metal of that beautiful, shining exquisite knife.
She was young dumb and stupid.
Wrong. She was young, dumb, and scared.
She gave up who she was, she gave up her life
For a man who didn't even love himself.
Mar 7, 2016
Mar 7, 2016 at 4:59 PM UTC
Everyone's a poet when they're heartbroken or depressed.
Every word is overthinked and pressed
Currently obsessed with the thought of self growth and expression
Fighting a battle between you and yourself
Running and hiding, your only vice is your words, your phrases, thoughts.
They're the only things keeping you alive.
So everyone's a poet when they're heartbroken and depressed, because those are the ones who have the most to say.
The stories to share, of their hurt and despair
Those are the people sitting up at 3am with a knife and pen.
Carving their hurt into their skin, while their blood drips their story
Those are the poets, the ones with so much to say, the ones with so much to hide.
These are the people who don't feel sorry for themselves, or feel any less deprived
Of a true life of happiness prosperity and growth
But truth be told they hide the facts under oath
So everyone's a poet when they hit rock bottom
Because it couldn't be worse than this
But everyone's a poet when they rise and make a difference in a life that's filled with ****
Mar 7, 2016
Mar 7, 2016 at 4:03 PM UTC