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every person on this earth
has got a certain fear
spiders incite panic,
public speaking invokes tears

mine isn't too uncommon,
but only some women can relate
it's a special kind of fear
to a special kind of hate

it wasn't whispered in my ear
it's just something that i know
it's been ingrained since my beginning,
a part of how society flows

you see, i'm afraid of a guy.
or rather, his rejection
afraid i'm not enough
because i'm darker in complexion

did you know his hands are white?

that's why around him, my skin burns
instead of reciting numbers and letters,
what if it's racism that he learned?

i was taught to admire passions, looks, and intellectual minds
if only to darker women,
love could prove to be more kind

im 18 in year '18 but it feels like '63
hiding feelings from a whitey cause ****** is defined as me
© tempest p
The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.
A little escape from the madness.
Or maybe, into.
Whatever a smiling ocean is
With its grin as wide as dunes
And its lips pressed to the moon
Walking with the creatures of the deep
Where magma crawls and the rocks creep
Through sandy meadows filled with reefs and scales
And a stormy shadow of sunken sails
You'll see the sun piercing through
Where all you can breathe is blue
 Feb 2018 Exhale Your Mind
Liesl
An artist can lure us
Into a darkened room
And paint a portrait
With borrowed light
.
.
.
.

.

.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
is
the
loudest
noise
I've
ever
heard
I will travel this world
just show me an airline
that allows payment in poetry
show me where words buy visas

I can be a hero
who restores peace at a battlefield
where the universe is
fighting the war of words

I can soar high in space
just show me where lines
are stitched into wings
show me how to synthesise words into feathers

I can leave my mark on Earth
just have to turn it into
a planet whose species
actually knows a poet's worth

I can move the world
just give me a springboard
where I can stand and spin
the rest of the globe the other way

I can make you proud
just learn to hear my silence loud
even if you don't practically
appreciate that I'm endowed

I can be a president
just show me a nation
whose politics ain't marred
with filth, controversies and lies

I can be whatever you want
just give me whatever I need
give me a people without greed
and I'll find you a Moses or Joshua
,that I'm sure

I can be anything
the ocean, the bridge, the home under siege
the road, the beast of burden that lifts the load
the pathfinder at the Red sea,
if I'm given the rod
I can taste the colours of your kiss
Fiery crimsons bursting through
Mellow yellows
Exploding into sweet tangelo
Cool blues
Turning violet
As my senses play this quiet duet

I hear music when you touch me
Bass lines throbbing alongside
Exotic rhythms
Tumbling into trembling strings
Soaring voices
Dulcet tones
Within your music my body groans

I can smell flowers in your words
Tender Honeysuckle pervades
Alluring Rose
Sweet Alyssum quickly follows
Heady Jasmine
Lascivious Lilies
Impressions that set my spirit free

You muddle my mind with euphoria
Sensibility rearranged
In anticipation
Of this intoxication
I live
In Synaesthesia
Whenever you are near

(C) Pixievic
A friend issued me a challenge to write a poem about Synaesthesia (the ability to taste colours or see smells etc) this is what I came up with .....
Thoughts manifest into outbursts, while love transcends into lucid memories
awake by the unusual, while soundly and  Nourishly condemned asleep by distress
Remarkable beauty held hostage in the bricks and the mist of the darken night
Manfiestation devoures into desperation, While temptation rages a twist of faith outbursted in thought.
Manifesting hidden reality
Manifesting disgraceful truth
1:19 pm and my thoughts are still of you
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