People only saw her tamed self...
The self which wears a discipline of the ages... Smile of the seasons... And dreams of the sky...!
How they heard her deny everything of anything pertaining to the wild and savage...
Yet her silence was what went unheard...unfelt and untouched by the world...
Cause when the world slept at night... She would wake up to her latent forces...
Causing her to go crazy in the thoughts of love and howl like the wolves to proclaim her hidden wilderness...
Her untamed self was an aqua regia that could melt even gold and her love was like the big bang that could create another universe...
But her wild self was so beautiful that she can never afford to lose it in the opinion of others...
She had always known that
People ruin beautiful things...!
Thanks for reading this ❣
I used to be
running barefoot over gravel,
galloping ponies, and bending
over to pick up shiny trinkets
And racoon's teeth.
These days I can still hike
mountains and climb trees.
Impromptu dance parties, and
jogging supermarket hallways
in an urgent rush.
But, most days
My hips ache like they are made of
old stone walls, my knees swell
sideways, and dainty ankles crack
in flats as if they were still strapped
to six inch heels.
Most days it hurts too much for brisk,
for swift, for haste.
Most days it hurts too much to roll out
of sheets and covers and let my soles
hit the floor. Rise.
The Devil no longer quakes at the sound of my foot prints, but revels
at the uneven drag of my limps.
The zig zag sway of crumbling hips and crunching cartilage. A ****** swagger subdued by a body
Too tired for its own hinges.
The struggles I had to face is something she wont go through!
No! Never! Not while I live , and definitely not under my watch.
THE CRY OF AN AFRICAN MOTHER
My daughter is a lawyer in the making.
She's intelligent, a doctor figure.
THE HOPE OF AN AFRICAN FATHER
Study hard baby
You'll take care of your sibling someday
and build us a better home.
THE PRAYER OF AN AFRICAN PARENT
Your good intent overshadowed by your failures and inabilities.
Genuine goodwill expressed in a confusing web of past decisions
Your way out shackles me to a prison wall painted in your dreams and wishes
I open my eyes to two options,
the wall of desolation and
the gateway of disrespect and ungratefulness .
I'd love to stay in these chains
enjoy the discomfort of your comfort.
but i cant!
I have a life to live
a destiny to realize
I cant live your dream
all the night you had to cry at nature's unfair gift of failure
could have turned to smiles and pride.
With the weapon of childbirth
You were assured a sweet revenge on nature
but the truth is...
all you have is an opportunity to be you
I'd love to be the doctor you long for.
**** to be a lawyer just to satisfy your thirst
What difference would it make
I get to be the doctor.... not you
I wear the wig ...... not you
You'd still be a slave to nature
and me, a prisoner to the horror of your past.
I cant live your dream
tho i dream of living the future you've planned for me,
all i wake up to is a pillow, a ***** sheet and REALITY!
I choose the gateway of disrespect
carrying along the tag of an ungrateful son
battling nature to the realization of my dreams
while staring at the Right to a wig and a stethoscope on the wall.
Hanging between those crafty wooden frame
is your key to vengeance
the crown of a wasted years chasing after your dream.
Sorry mom --- Sorry dad
I cant live your dream.
At the mercy of your smile
My flat jokes wile
Gentle waters smile
below, waves of currents rile
The hungry smiles
Joke knows not bile
Unburden my soul
bless my spirit with a smile.
She, is that flower unopened,
in quieter moments,
she washes him clean,
a theme behind secrets
not of ether, nor clay,
but of somewhere between.
He, with his pallid complexion,
loves nothing of Earth,
even less of the air,
for all that are given
are places or houses
that she cannot share...
o'er night's dark canal
the moon's bright crescent did sail
like a gondola
I feel violated
by your ******
you have no language in you
just a sobbing pathos
in the inferno of morals
you're the stars in my sky
the down in my pillow
the cup in my cake
the sprinkles in my *****
you dont love enough
to say yes to her ******
and the pit of her deep dark ****
to hold her in your arms
to push the blade of feral lust
through her belly
while you *** in her face
and she is not grateful
to be strangled
with her own filth stained *******
adoring the sensual brutality of it
lost in the madness of subjugation
and lecherous carnality
that would take wisdom
neither of you have
well you're to good too be loved
Elemental violence kindles every manifestation of eroticism. Eroticism is the domain of violence i.e. violation. The whole business of erotasisim is to strike to the inner most core of the living being, so that the heart stands still. The transition of the normal state to that of ****** desire presupposes a partial dissolution of the person as he exists in the realm of discontinuity Dissolution - this expression corresponds with dissolute life, the familiar phrase linked with ****** activity. Georges Bataille
“We waste time looking for the perfect lover, instead of creating the perfect love.”
― Tom Robbins
he said he couldn’t breathe,
so they took his last breath
I’m so sick of feeling like it’s never going to stop. It needs to stop. It’s exhausting to know that everyday social injustice keeps happening and now that something is being done about it, everyone is ******. When I can raise my sons and daughters and not fear for their life. Only then, will I be satisfied.