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Ariana Robinson May 2016
Never quite felt like this before
This new feeling can't be described
It causes a smile to grace a face that wore a frown
It causes a sparkle in the eyes that shed tears
Laughter spills from a mouth that never uttered a word
Feeling light on feet while dancing
This new feeling I can't quite put my finger on
But I like it
Maybe, I'm finally happy
And just enjoying living in the moment
My newfound happiness
  Apr 2016 Ariana Robinson
Javier Garza
I'm dead inside. You picked a walking corpse as your best friend. While air passes through these lungs, that doesn't mean that a light shines in my dull eyes. With no fire to bring the warmth, I'm cold to the touch. I, your best friend, am the living dead cursed to roam the world with no goal, interest, or life. Not that I care, I am dead after all. But I pity you, you who must endure the company of the decaying, who hurts over the lost, who wishes he who is close to you would live like you do; you, who holds onto desperately to these decaying ties.
  Apr 2016 Ariana Robinson
Javier Garza
These eyes, they've seen many things
They've seen the hurting lie to those they love
Seen the ones they love lie right back
Seen humanity hide from itself
For humanity is too terrified,
Too terrified to even trust itself

These bitter eyes, they've witnessed many things
They've witness innocence stolen by hate
Witnessed entire nations lead by ignorance and prejudice
Witnessed the folly in mankind
The folly too great that mankind chooses to repress it
Repress it to not acknowledge the true horror of it all

These aged eyes, they've shed many tears
They've shed tears from abuse
Shed tears caused by corruption
Shed tears for those starving
Shed tears for the dark secrets the globe hides
The secrets frown by society
But the dark secrets that are behind every closed door

These eyes have experienced many things,
Seen many things,
Witnessed many things,
Shed tears for many things
But they've remained open
While my mouth that could maybe bring about change, has remained shut despite it all
Because these eyes of mine have also succumbed to hopelessness
  Apr 2016 Ariana Robinson
Javier Garza
Art
Art is limitless
Art is pure
Art is life

Strum a few cords
Hum a melody
Sing from the soul,
That is Art

Paint agony
Sketch misery
Carve beauty
Sculpt time
That is Art

Move to the rhythm
Twirl to the lyrics
Float with notes
That is Art

Capture a scene
Freeze the moment
Time frozen by the lens
That is Art

Breathing each day
Hiding all night
Laughing the pain away
Crying the joyous moment
That is life
And that too is Art
She ran red lipstick over
her fingertips before she
ripped out my heart
to give it colour,
she put it back, mind you,
I can't say she broke it,
I can't even say she ripped it out,
it was involuntary,
I gave it to her,
and the thought of
rejection made me
take it back,
an unfinished
cigarette put back in the pack
when lit later, nothing tastes the same,
bitter almost,
she set fire to it
and ran from the smoke,
she came back once it all settled,
and all that's left is ash,
I'm always caught saying
"Sorry this my last one"
but I'd let her smoke me empty,
my heart is still red and the lipstick
has worn,
and that's what made me realize
she's the one
This one may take some heavy interpreting.

Sometimes it's obstacles you have to overcome before a sense of realization takes over your bitterness. Never give up on the ones you love.
  Apr 2016 Ariana Robinson
Mike Essig
Over the course of 64 years (and still), I have encountered so many women (including my still lovely ex-wife) in person and in writing who struggle with their looks. It seems to be an eternal theme that crosses generations. So, I decided to write this humble piece in reply.
There are some who would say I can’t write about women’s feelings because I am a man. A patronizing old, white man. I note their objecions, but I disagree. I believe humanity always trumps gender.
We live in an artificial culture created and controlled by advertisers. Not only do they sell us stuff, they convince us that we need it. Women are perfect targets for them.
So they have created impossible standards for women to live up to. You must always look like you are 25, young and thin. They tell you this is the key to being desired, even loved. As it’s impossible to be young and thin forever, they just happen to have the products that will “help” you. They want your minds so they can profit by manipulating them. They do a great job of it.
So the key to loving your bodies and yourselves is to take back your minds. This is difficult. You are bombarded with a barrage of words and images that say you are not good enough. If only you were younger, thinner, shaped like Barbie, not greying, had longer legs, bigger *******, wore a size 2, you would be happy, and — of course — men would desire you. You would never be traded in for a younger, sleeker model. So many insecurities to exploit.
But consider the difference between beauty and Beauty. Beauty is human, individual and eternal; beauty is abstract, mass and reliant on current tastes.
I have known many women of all shapes, sizes and ages who were Beautiful. That Beauty was expressed from their hearts through their faces and eyes. They radiated it. It was not dependent on my or any other man’s approval. It just was. So I know this can be done.
Fashion changes so there will always be new things to sell. To the current ad masters, the Gibson girls of the late 19th century would now be called fat. Sell them a diet plan and gym membership. The angular loveliness of the Venus de Milo too cold and boyish. Sell her cosmetics and plastic surgery. Mona Lisa, a dumpy Italian girl. So many things to sell her.
And then there is that intense desire to please men that begins with daddy. I often hear its echo even in the strident voices of the most ardent feminists. The advertisers trade on that. That’s deep. That’s very hard to overcome. That’s both an individual and a cultural problem.
But many women never seem to consider that a great many men aren’t dumb enough to buy the 25 and thin forever image and don’t really demand to be constantly pleased. They might actually be looking for intelligence, heart, affection and respect instead of a perfect ***. Not all, often not the young, but many.
At some point, you have to say no and mean it. You are not your age, dress size, cup size or waist size. Those are just outward manifestations of the true you. If someone rejects you on the basis of such ephemeralities, you are better off without them. You have to take control of your soul. No one can give you that except yourself. You have to live with yourself just as men have to live with themselves. Again, humanity trumps gender.
I unabashedly love women. They have been one of the great delights of my life. I love the difficulties and the differences. What a woefully dreary world it would be if men and women were they same. So, it pains me to see so many women in so much pain.
You are, first of all, a person and that is worth insisting upon. Insist. Demand. Escape, if necessary. Be the only you you can ever truly be. Then you will feel pretty. And you will be as pretty as you feel.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5dbshnvztGA

  ~mce
  Mar 2016 Ariana Robinson
asf
• because I was questioned for calling Beyoncé a god
• because I was told Beyoncé is overrated
• because some white lady I don’t know touched my hair before she               learned my name at my place of work
• because one of my white friends made a joke about crack houses when we were watching fake anime and eating fried dough…in addition to making that joke, he made me uncomfortable
• because a white friend of mine agreed with someone who said cis white men are the most oppressed group on my campus
• because people still tell me “ALL Lives Matter” and ask me “why isn’t there a WHITE History Month”
• because “I don’t see color” is a “less racist” way of saying “that isn’t my problem, so I don’t have to get involved”
• because girls “like me” are fetishized
• because girls “like me” are seen as the **** of jokes or just the ****
• because I’m the only non-white passing person of color in my dominant friend group
• because #Lightskinned is still a way to humiliate someone for being fairer skinned and having feelings
• because #Darkskinned is still a way to demean someone who is darker than you and painting them as “*****”
• because colorism exists in every racial group, but no one wants to talk about it
• because someone argued why a white person should be able to wear dreads and black people are kicked out of institutions for wearing the exact same hairstyle
• because black on black crime is still used as some sort of crevice you try to shimmy yourself through
• because somewhere, a white girl is teaching tutorials on how anyone can have an afro, and no one is stopping her
• because Facebook exploded when I expressed that I want to be respected
• because everybody wanna be a *****, but no one wanna be a *****
• because I didn’t know what to say until I couldn’t stop speaking
• because we are twenty days into February and Black History Month hasn’t been mentioned by ONE of my professors
• because of ******* course I’m the angry black woman
• because I’m essentially the backbone, which means that it’s easy for me to break, right?
• because this **** happens to me every **** day of my life and it will continue to happen to me every **** day of my life
• because you made it that way
• this poem does not have an ending
• this poem is the abyss
• why do I make it about race?
• because this poem can go on and on and on forever
• and I’ll still be talking about the same thing


**~~a.s.f.
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