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Poetic
Vibes
And crystalline
Times;
This
Is the age
Of the 20’s
Does it make me
Strange
To crave connection,
Does it make me
Weird
To demand respect.
Am i other
For asking for more
And expecting
To be treated
What I’m worth
And am I
Wrong
To see love
In such wild
Caricatures
That all prove
To be
Light
And smoke
Minds
Wander
Because
They are brave;
They go
Where they desire
And ask no one
For permission
Laughter lilting,
Smiles ascending,
Warm breeze rushes by;
Yellow winged monarchs
In July
Due dates;
Schedules;
Deadlines;
Dates,
A revolving strain on time,
A resulting
Pressure
For proven effort;
Will
Our productivity
Decide
Our professional fate?
We look inward,
And contemplate,
And find
Our update
Is late
Wonder wallows
And wades awake
Watching and waiting
For a grave mistake.
Out of the dust
Comes revelation;
Out of chaos,
Revolution.
We seek and find
In solitude
And grow
In destitution.
Will we learn
What we yearn for
Only in
Absolution?
You’ve gotten so lost
In never again
You’ve forgotten
The symphony held
Within dark clouds,
The harmony
Of thunder
This poem is about how deeply meaningful and profound sadness and sorrow can be and how helpful it can be to find lessons and joy in the midst of it.
Bring me
Your serenity.
Shower me
With warmth.
Soothe me
With calligraphy,
And I will cover you
With grace.
Constellations
Connect
In celestial harmony—
As will we
If only we
Can keep
Our heads up,
Hearts high
Towards the sky
We descended from
If there was more of you
I could touch
If there was somehow
A galaxy of sensation,
I would soothe you
Until the entire world
Turned still and quiet
And all we knew
Was us
There are worlds
Within you.
Uncharted continents
To explore.
What
An untamed adventure
It is
To be yours.
In every hello,
Every coffee date,
Every awkward new hug
Or handshake,
I search
For your autumnal smile,
Your thick accent,
A familiar embrace—

And then the haunting  
Fear
Rushes in;
I remember
Exactly
Why you’re a ghost
And not a lover.

I close my eyes
And yearn to forget you,
Let your spectre
Burn
To ash
You bring out
My adolescence,
My childlike wonder
At what Love could be,
And then I look at you
And see,
It is all now
Finally,
After years of yearning,
A beautiful,
And almost unbelievable
Reality
Love realization faith dedication truth
How tenuous
Life is—
Delicate
As a dragonfly wing.
We hold fate
In our hands
And love
On the edge of a kiss.
Fragility
That speaks:
We will never know
More
Than this
The strongest
Diamond
Is cut
Deeply
By
The
Most sincere
Of love
Sometimes
You do
Your best
And pour
Yourself
Into
Another,
A profession,
A piece of art.
And it is not enough.
But do not believe
My love
That it is you.
You are
So much
More
Than enough
His eyes
Held truth with no logic,
Piercing authenticity
That whipped my spirit
Into whirlwinds.
How could one
Be so bold,
How could he
Know my mysteries?
I will spend my life
Unraveling the secrets
Of his vulnerable heart.
I find myself stopping in a crowd of people and time slows still. Their laughter, their unpredictable movements, the fights and the resolutions and the bonding of brothers--all quiet. I am left in the fabric of things to wonder at the tapestry we call a culture.

How am I to know what is proper when all have their own true mothertongue? Who can teach me what to say when all I know is jumbled and disheveled based on who I've been and what I know?

I leave behind a southern legacy of liturgy and doctrine that outlines exactly what is human and exactly what is not. I step into a society that constantly years to fill a void--please Lord, find us someone who knows the Truth.  

Their apathy and nonchalance is false; bravado is left wanting. I know they they all cry out for connection and seek it in flesh rather than spirit. I am caught in the midst of the pursuit of happiness and the quest for morality. I know not what brings joy to humanity, I hike towards that river and hope it is not run dry like all others.

In the study of psychology, I have found so many places where words fall short and the great carnal animal within all of us takes precedence, demands attention, seeking comfort in a world that often overlooks those that need it the most.

Love is a fragile, timid thing that is most often hard to find and difficult to voice. Instead, we lash out in aggression to hide that inner child that needs a tried and true comfort of a known embrace. We seek forgiveness and express it in anger, manipulation, meeting our needs however possible because this is America, after all.

This is all we want in our sequestered human heart, the beginning of redemption.
I pour into
Those that
Do not know how
To pour into themselves,
And I am left—
A vessel for cleansing,
A vase
Of wilting flowers
Who waters herself
And blooms
I cough
And feel the sickness
Rise
And wonder
How many babies
Ache
From the same
Affliction
But are not
Treated
Because of their
Race
Or place
Of origin
How often we feel ashamed
When our skin could glow,
With all the ruin
We have survived
And turned into poetry,
All the defeat we withstand
And walk away from,
Leaving yesterday
And braving tomorrow
Can we strive
For health,
Without being broken by it?
Letting foundation
Camouflage our pores
Until we disappear
Under the weight of beauty.
Can we look
To better ourselves
Without being bested
By perfection?
I yearn for truth
In pursuit of wellness
Without the guilt
Of validation
Haunting us into iniquity
How can we feel
Human
When all we know
Is horror
Inside a mind
Meant to create
Kingdoms
And instead
Harbors calamity
I,
A rising moon,
Cascade luminescence
That some call beauty.
But I know
The mark of my splendor
Can only come
From your sun.
What does it cost
To be so free?
No strings attached
Yet none to tug you back
From the beyond,
No hand to hold you
When you feel gone,
None to keep you back from the brink
Check message
Facebook
Check message
Instagram
Check message
Send message
Wait
Check
Look;

When did relationships
Get defined
By a read receipt?
Will we
Now
Only measure intimacy
By a tweet?

What do we have left,
Why can’t we
Go back
To laughter
In a diner seat
If traveling through space
Is an odyssey,
What is it called
When I search your soul
And find Nirvana?
Tangled
In a grove
Of clovers,
We seek our luck
At the end
Of some far off road
Not yet defined.
Yet
When I look
Into a face
I’ve known
And designed
I find grace
Blooming
Within,
Surrounding me
With the warmth
Of identity
A mind can be
So open,
Ingenuity is shaded by grey,
Hollowing a heart,
Giving way to decay,
Mistaken as discovery.
What a shame
It is
To be beautiful
But bold;
Making you
Exquisite art
Too unique
And foreign
To understand,
And discarded
Instead

Do not settle
For a storage bin
When you deserve
An exhibit
In the National gallery
I hear
Hindi
In the hallway—
Suddenly
My American
Lips
Can taste
The masala
In your kiss;
I smile
And let the memory
Travel
Across the sea
Where it belongs
When I open
For you
Like a flower,
And you pick my petals—
Strewn across the earth
In haste,
I wilt
And perish;
You will not
See me bloom
Again
Heartache
Pierces
Who we are,
And what we hoped
To be;
May it unravel
Our loose ends
And turn them into
Calligraphy
Do you not know
That there are worlds
Within a disappointment,
A whole constellation
Of opportunity.
Hidden in the resolution
Of failure
Is a promise
Of restoration.
As we leave
One instant,
We enter
Another lifetime,
One with pages of story
Freshly printed.
Your journey
Wanders
As your experience
Expands;
The destination
Is the masterpiece
Strung together through days
Of collected mistakes
And a kaleidoscope of moments,
All to lead you
To the one eventual
Celebration
Of all
That you are
Wonder
Waits
For you
To open yourself
Up;
To breathe
In
The aura,
The resounding
Belief
That magic
Does exist
Weeping willows daughter,
Why do you cry?
What do you mourn
That has fallen
To the soil
And withered?

It is
The immigrants fear
As their child is ripped
From their womb

It is
The child’s blank stare
When they are refused
Education
And forced to be
A wife

Destitution,
Desolation,
Desecration.

These are the tears
Mother Earth cries
For her children.

This is why my grief
Grows
Laughter lilting,
Depression lifting;
Life ascending
And Love alight.
This is
The truth
When you are with
Your best friend
On rough
Seemingly unbearable
Nights
Romance
Comes
In waves;
How we love
The rush,
The swell,
And how
We begrudge
The crash
Seek
Solution
Need
Restitution
When will
These people
Marked by
Color
And known
By grace
Have a voice
That isn’t only
A chorus
How can we
Breathe
Without
Anxiety
In our chest
When all we do
Is for a paycheck
And we still
Can’t afford
Rent
My breath catches
In trepidation,
Tightness forming
In my chest
Does anxiety buckle
For fear
Or because
I’ve never felt love
So sincere
Black
May seem dreary,
But it is
The color of ink,
The river
Of creation
That makes
Stories
Soar
You
Look at me
Palm on my cheek,
Warmth reverberating
Throughout the room,
And
All I see
Is bliss
Will we wither away to nothing
Or will we build a bridge
With tethered hands
Tied to the pursuit,
Grounded by the earth,
Defiant
And determined
To find nirvana
Beyond the wilderness
From failure
Sparks
New birth;
Out of ashes
We rise
Aflame,
Fists raised
Up,
Hope held
High
My mind sings
Of sonnets,
Laments
And soliloquy
That all reveal
One epiphany:
Not all the words in this world
Can do justice
To a love
Such as this
I would rather
Hunt you down
And excavate
known treasure
Than spend a lifetime
Chasing the rumor
Of satin and gold
How sensuous and seductive is the unique confidence of a woman. The way she nurtures her appearance as well as her career, education, and every living thing around her. Her dedicated intellect that balances a drive towards production as well as love and affection. It is in a woman’s heart that grace is found, boundless supplies for those who have wronged her, but also those who she will teach about the love she found in herself. She is a beacon to a society lost in the fray.
His calming word:
“Stay”
Her Anxious fear:
“Go”
Walking a tightrope
Between fear
Of abandonment
And the present promise
Of safety
Fame
Is a fickle fire
That fumes
At the sheerest whisper
Of applause
And flutters,
Snuffs out
At the mere suspicion
Of fault
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