renata-jackson
American
Born on Aug. 20, 1993 in the city of Baltimore, MD. Moved multiple times throughout childhood and influenced now, to travel, write and grow. / Idol= my mother, Langston Hughes / Graduate of University of Texas at Arlington as a Political Science major and english minor. / I haven't yet chosen a style of writing for my poetry nor writings; yet I am fully competent of expressing my thoughts one way or another.
We are escaping. One, two, three, four of us. We are escaping from a shabby, ill insulated trailer home dressed for the 70's. It's poo brown **** carpets and dilapidated yellow wallpaper is behind us, finally. Here we are in brisk mountain air looking over and smiling at one another as we soar down the slopes on our skis. I smile to my right - all the while giggling at our oddly fitted goggles and red, wind whipped noses. I feel completely in control. The other three zip past me and down the slopes. I see them make it to our destination: A nice, contemporary and cozy cottage; but I take my time. I'm moving freely and side to side, wearing a smile as wide as my head. I approach the destination to meet the other three. All too suddenly, rather than coming to a nice stop, I realize that I am approaching a ski jump instead. With out enough time to stop myself, I decide to position my self so that I land in the pond that sits slightly to left of the jump. I hit the jump and soar in the shallowest sky, close my eyes and brace myself for the coldest water my body has no desire of sensing. I become enveloped in liquid warmth just seconds later. It's the most surprising embrace and I almost choose not to leave. But I remerge with my goggles missing and I watch the steam rise from the water in all directions. Asfter I wade to the edge of the pond, I pick up my heavy, saturated body and drag it onto the snow, smiling and unaffected by the cold, wet earth beneath me.
Mar 1, 2018
Mar 1, 2018 at 10:58 PM UTC
It's like dashing back inside, at night, with no shoes on because you needed your flashlight out of the car for the sleep over. Terrified of what might be behind you.
It's the same feeling you get in your chest when you're startled at the movies with Jacob and Vesha because the psychopath gets his **** on screen.
It's the same as that time you got that twinge in your chest and your eyes began to well up (DON'T CRY), like they did when you watched that unbearably dramatic scene at the end of "The Fox and the Hound" when you were six.
And then after enduring these strange physical reactions, your mind starts to run in overdrive, yet making no progress, like when you were stunted on that mathematical portion of the standardized state test you had to take in the eighth grade. Signals are firing in your head, making instantaneous connections and all the while making the physical anomalies worse.
So, why is this so unbearable? When all of the other instances of similar, emotional toils were tolerable.
It's within my existence. It's not a script, it isn't my imagination, and it isn't school work. This is an internal conflict caused by the actions and decisions made externally.
Reach in, deeper than the skin, deeper than the rib cage, deeper than the heart and closer to the soul. Then, pull this desperation out of me and keep it far, far out of my sight.
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 8:19 PM UTC
You are now at my gate
and let me just state...
Ignorance is not bliss,
Ignorance is what spits,
On our society,
Why does it have to be,
So mean,
Coming in different varieties
Stupidity, closed minded beings,
Overdosed feigns
On the drug of another’s uncertainty,
On the drug of another’s complexity.
Ignorance is what hits,
When one has been reduced down to fits,
Of rage due to a lack of understanding.
Due to an abundance of reprimanding with no reasoning.
Take your fake, already set in place traits
and leave them at the gate.
When I can feel you feel what i feel or
when you do not judge based on preconceived ideals,
You may then pass in through the gates to my consciousness
and my awareness.
Mind you it is not a matter of hypocrisy
but a requirement to consider my identity.
Nov 19, 2012
Nov 19, 2012 at 11:11 PM UTC
Not in my shadow but in the bright light, free
Live through me.
The one who’s triumph shall exist through generations x, y, and z.
She shall be.
Live through me
A new responsibility
She shall be
A whole new entity
A new responsibility
I take with regards for my mother
A whole new entity one with the one, the almighty father
And so my mother,
Her triumph shall exist through generations x, y, and z.
And as long as this life will repeat
She shall live through me, not in my shadow but in the bright light, free
Oct 17, 2011
Oct 17, 2011 at 2:41 PM UTC
Oh when that smell penetrates your senses,
Your mind will retreat
Back to that time,
That time when you were calm, happy, and free
And when you smell that smell and your eyes open to see,
See ugly torn down dreams…
What a fool you’ve found yourself to be.
Oct 17, 2011
Oct 17, 2011 at 2:40 PM UTC
You see I, I find happiness in my mother’s eyes when she comes home from a long day of work and the house is clean.
I find happiness in my brother’s words when he sees that baby girl he hasn’t in so, so long.
I find happiness in my baby sister’s legs when she’s dancing in various patters across the floor.
But there are those who struggle,
So if you can’t find it inside a home
And if you can’t find it inside a parent, sibling, or friend
Always remember happiness can be found within.
Oct 10, 2011
Oct 10, 2011 at 7:07 PM UTC
Stretch all muscles in the figure; escape all obstacles within the tremors.
Escape for a moment in a new time and place
Where miniscule aspects like a dime or pace
Withdrawal from the mind and face
So that we are able to escape.
Relieve the joints of the pain; evade the truth to let it be lain.
Evade the effort required to conquer
The restless brains where strains will soon falter
When home is sought and sought for composure
We have succeeded to evade.
Jul 26, 2011
Jul 26, 2011 at 9:06 AM UTC
There is a sickness in my gut.
“Why?”
I writhe and wrench at my punishment by another
My innards coil when that word flies from anyone’s lips
And if it does, I spit at it so that it may retreat back to where it belongs
Kept in the dark and moist filth that is the human mouth.
Let it stay there, in my world it belongs nowhere else.
Or I shall again become sick from the sickness that is sick.
Or I shall spew words of disgust and repulsion for it is sick.
Or I shall seep expressions that lack any sort of well-being for it is sick.
“Why?”
Because he made it so, a noble deed gone wicked.
Jul 26, 2011
Jul 26, 2011 at 7:28 AM UTC
Back in Baltimore
That was the real days
Every week, all the heat went by in a haze
When the bell rings, we’re hoppin' on the train
Lookin’ at all the feins and that's a **** shame
But they’re not on the brain
Back in B-more.
Cuz back in Baltimore, that **** was hard core,
Even through all the gore, we still cherish it...
We want some more. We want some more.
Now, I'm sittin’ on my stoop,
Waitin' on some dude,
To come buy me a ring
Or pass me some of that tree.
And the humidity, nah it doesn’t bother me,
Me and the girls, we’re still hittin' up the Gallery
Inner harbor, Lexington Market, and all the jocks
They just want the junk, they’re all clowns, they’re all punks
But we got just what they want.
Now it's calm, we're on our way home
This day was the bomb, we're dialin' all our phones
Let's gossip 'bout our day
And hope these days don’t ever fade away.
Cuz, back in Baltimore, that **** was hard core,
Even thru all the gore, we still cherish it...
We want some more. We want some more.
Jul 21, 2011
Jul 21, 2011 at 5:25 PM UTC
Oh how I understand the discretion policy of political views in professional environments.
I sit at the top of the lecture hall and become queasy.
I retch at the sarcasm spewing from his lips.
I try only to tune in on my notes and disregard his personal views
How difficult it is, when the person that irks you the most, is the person that will grade your term paper.
How pitiful it is, when a newly found acquaintance is gone after realizing there is no reasoning with him or her.
Oh how I now understand the discretion policy.
Jul 21, 2011
Jul 21, 2011 at 12:57 PM UTC