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Brycical May 2015
I am a cloud breaker
because the sun is always with me,
tattooed on my back.
Even at night I can see silver linings.

I am an earth shaker--
cackling, quaking laughs crack surfaces
above, and so below
of flesh and rock like lava's burning, gurgling grace.

I am a light maker.
Warm words spark & ignite dried, dusty leaves
forgotten or ignored,
clearing paths for new gardens to feast upon the sunlight.

I'm a flow waker,
building bridges of effervescent electric irrigation
with hugs between our eyes and hearts,
nourishing, cleansing bodies.
  May 2015 Brycical
Roseanna H
I could not afford
your love -
it came with anxiety
and,
feeling small.

And even though
it came with the promise of
(shooting stars)
It was
not enough
compared to the love
I was yet to give myself

and for it
I had to be

Free.
  May 2015 Brycical
Amanda Small
your voice
reminds me of bumble bees and ice cream
  May 2015 Brycical
JA Doetsch
Have you ever stopped and thought
about the winding path that we're along?
This labyrinth of lefts and rights
that will bring you into my arms?

Years before our lives had been cast
before our very first breaths of air
plans were made that would set our paths
on this crash course that we share

Millions of choices have been made since
that have led us to where we stand
Will it be millions...or only hundreds more
until we're hand in hand?

This army of Chinese butterflies
that patiently flap their wings
are leading us ever so much closer,
if you choose to believe in such things

I've waited for years, my love
for this maze to lead you home.
And when it does, as it surely will
I hope that you enjoy this poem
I always like to hold onto the idea that to meet the person that you end up with, millions of things have to happen exactly so.  You could ruin that by saying that millions of things are required for you to meet any particular person, but why would you ruin this for me, ****?
Brycical Apr 2015
nearly 200 years ago
which means my genetics have directly contributed
to the current system
that continues thrusting knees on the throats
of an entire race of brothers and sisters.  

Sick knots of frustration churn in my stomach
while fist and eyelids clench tight
burning razor tears slowly trickling down my face
at the very idea one of my ancestors--
part of my DNA
once treated a living, breathing woman of color
like a permanent maid meant only to labor inside and outside.  

I'm sharing this to admit and reveal my family's
complacency in a system
continuing to reap the so-called benefits
from a capitalist mindset
that has upgraded beyond physical cold metal shackles,
evolving into ball and chain conversation words
where people worry more about property damage from riots
instead of deaths at the hands of the fraternal order of timeout.  

I'm sharing this to continue conversations
for so long in America have been shuffled around, cast aside
as if it were an embarrassing high school phase
politely laughed away    
like on holidays when my family and I
would listen to grandparent's occasional choice phrases
that began "Well the blacks are just blah blah blah..."

Like a child caught ******* by parents,
our pale shame has made us bury the past below sea level
hoping nobody would notice.
But now, the skeletons are beginning to rise,
seeping through the ground  
along with fears of other dusty bones
buried under the red road.

Many of our ancestors
have been trying to dig deeper holes
with phrases like
"I don't understand, there was MLK and Honest Abe,
what more do
  they  want?"
ploughing ahead with fingers shoved in ears
singing "La la la let's just move on, it was a long time ago"
overlooking the equality and empathy  
that has been lacking up to the present.
Like two leaders could wave a magic wand overnight
erasing the dismissive dis-ease of white skinned superiority
we've been weaving into of our laws,
conditioning into our DNA,
evolving from slavery to segregation to target practice and tax brackets
despite singing "Land of the free"
even though there's a disparity
between rioters in inner cities  being called "thugs"
while rioters at sport events are "party goers."

The first step is acknowledgement,
unfortunately we can't force someone to understand,
but we can support and be there
for our brothers and sisters
with kind, encouraging words,
taking steps to pull out
of the land and people selling business,
instead investing in the new currency of presence and attention
unlike my ancestors.
almost 200 years ago.
Some say if you dig up the past, all you get is *****.

Tell that to archeologist constantly discovering new things or therapists guiding others through traumatic past events.
Brycical Apr 2015
I don't write because I can,
or even sometimes because I want to.

I write because words surround me
in the air; glistening, screaming and needling
into my being--
infecting my crimson and azure paths
with their ( { ( { electric cacophony} ) } ),                       (       )
vibrating sacred whispers of musical patterns        /<+>\
dripping directly into my spirit aglow with creation,
imbuing a certain serenity of past, now and future cuneiform tattoos
unto my mind--
high as a shooting star gliding in midnight moonbeams...

It's like when a fish stops moving it will die.

Every day it is a glorious struggle to keep up with myself,
these words,
so as not to drown in the insanity.

These words once inhaled by ancestors, whales and grass
hurl through space, time and the infinite creation
slamming into me;
a mercurial, rose watery doorway portal conduit transmitter
typing bebop lightning striking your match stick soul,
buzzing and manifesting rainbow jazz steps connecting us!
Dishonor would chew me from the inside out
should I not comply.
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