I am the lone insurgent
Walking through the streets
of my own mind.
My mind
Is a totalitarian state.

I am the lone assassin
Of the members of parliament,
Remember, in my own mind.

I am ratted out
By the shrill shrieks
Of an old lady on the tram.

I walk home from endless meetings
With myself, where him
And me plot our rebellion
Sparking the ember, remember;
In my own mind.

The Secret Police awaits
Probably in my living room
Waiting for me to turn on the lights
Revealing the glint of silver nozzles
Mere millimeters from my my head.

The warrant proclaims:
"Conspiracy and ******"
I may be lone, but my hand
Wields just vindication.

I may be lone,
But as I am executed
There is still me
And another will always
Follow

Striking the ember, remember;
In my own mind.

All tools are ******* symbols in the eyes of the disillusioned.
The mountains are phalli, the valleys and coves, vulvae.
Cross country crotch rocket, crevasse stretching, rough landscape.
All interconnected, like the bluffs on the beaches, with holes right through.

Ismism
Feminism?
Masculinism?
*Equalism!

It's a ridiculous cliche but, ******* it, your eyes...
Forgive me if I don't always make eye contact,
Or look away too soon.  I'm listening. I swear it.
I'm afraid you might think that I'm full of myself,
Or afraid you might think that I've no self-esteem.
The truth is much simpler than either extreme.
The truth is I'm somewhere right in between.
but still:
Twin seas draw my stare and I fear what I'll say.
Fear falling into their unlit depths, where even my silence could betray.
The source to illuminate and fuel our lives' desires,
Find it in her hands , her touch,
Find it in her eyes.
Her eyes of ocean depth see me,
Giving no safe place to hide,
Searching bad cliches for the light, the otherness inside.
But what if all of my words are wrong?
What if they drive you away?
What if the light between oceans is mute?
Insufficient to make you stay?

Under my skin
and my bones is a room
nobody visits
nor anyone see's

it's dark and it's cool
and it's mine and the rules
like the gaps in it's walls
are governed by me;

comfortably safe
by myself in this place,
a question persistently
troubles my sleep

has all the pretence
that's been it's defence
saved me or left me
buried too deep.

Forgive yourself
Perfect was never a word suited for you
Love yourself
Everything comes back to this
Love your sister
She has been picked apart, degraded, and has an internal war eating her from the inside out
Love your brother
He has a time stamp of deliverance to a life of incarceration, bullets released from an absence of sense, lack of educated, blind ambitious followers.
Raise your head
You are a Goddess created
with disarming beauty in mind.
Continue to place one foot in front of the other
You are meant and strongly designed for forward movement.
Take no steps back, do not bow down your head, do not close your mouth
In fear that judgment will fall
It will, but you must speak anyways.
Your voice is imperative
to the growth of lost girls who are unsure what real women are made of.
Your voice is imperative to the peaking of the minds of men unsure what to look for in a Queen, show him.
Your voice is imperative to the readjustment of the image of
Black Women with large voices
Black Women with high diction
Black Women with love language
Black Women with literary genius
Black Women filled with nothing less than the peace & love God has manifested within us.
Black Women
Black Women
Black Women
Who love Black men like double chocolate moist bliss
Who love White men like dark roast coffee filled with cream
Who love Latino men like Butterscotch candy dipped in chocolate
The list goes on
Black Women who love like we are bound to implode if we don't give the universe what it is that we need back.
Black Women
Your Mother
Black Women
Your Sister
Black Women
Your Friend
Black Women
Your Lover
Black Woman
Love Her.

I'm an avid reader of books,  many different books
Tolstoys War And Peace took me seven days to read
Lord Of The Rings Trylogy just 3 days
One of those books I've read just once
The other I could almost quote
word
for
word
I read some truly great works of poetry here
Some simple with a message loud and clear
easily understood
Some long but with a rhythmic flow
the sort of poem where you cant let go
Then there is the long drawn out dirge
full of metaphors and unusual words that I don't even understand
I might read it once,  try to understand then file it under done
I just write the simple stuff,  that's what I do best
But, no matter how or what you write its all good.

                           After all, poetry is not a test ~
                      it is an expression of our humanity.

Dead girl swinging from a tree
As breezes blow melodically
She sways almost erotically
Blackening necrotically

She loved a boy who said goodbye
And laughed at her when she asked why
She thought that she might like to fly
And swing, and choke, and lastly, die

The noose around her throat, she jumped
Her neck bones snapped, her long legs pumped
'Til every bit of breath was gone
Now it's the wind she's dancing on

Her flesh turns putrid, then it slips
Insects crawl upon her lips
Flies infest her, north and south
Feasting on her crotch, her mouth

Some days later, she is found
Split skin sagging to the ground
Hung from a noose so tightly bound
Dead girl dancing 'round and 'round

Deadbeat dad,
you can't compete with the patter of tiny feet.

Forever...
Shall I strive to be Mum & Dad in spite of thee.

You had your chance and made your choice
(..."and missed so much" in the saddest voice).

So distant, both in words and deeds,
both empty since you sowed the seed.

He was made with love, only mine.
So listen now...
We'll be just fine!

I've begun to hide
the memory of his smile
between my bones
so I can still feel him
fill my empty spaces,
even when he's worlds away

today as i watched a movie about c.s. lewis
and his wife was dying
a thought raced across my mind,
death is weird

we live a certain number of years
in solid masses of skin and muscle
with something called a soul.
we feel more than animals,
some worship a God who created,
we love and we hate other people,
who are the exact same as us.

and then one day,
a different day
and a different way
for everyone,
we just
stop

today as i heard the news
that a four-month-old named zoe
died suddenly
a thought raced across my mind,
death is weird

*(a.m.c.)

Types of girls : *poetry-inked skin, hollow and fragile,dark circles, lack of eye contact, smeared mascara, not enough and too much