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  Mar 2015 Kay-Ann
Alessander
I need to read love poetry
For the same reason monks read bibles

the irrepressible need to believe

That love exists
That love is omnipresent, omniscient, all powerful
That it is eternal

For someone somewhere, at least

The emptier I feel, the more I read

Let me believe

Someone kisses
Crusty eye-lids in perfect bliss
Kay-Ann Mar 2015
The thing that scares me about poetry and just art overall is that no one has to like it. They don't have to understand you and comprehend what's going on inside of you. But we do it anyways in hopes that someone out there will stumble upon it and the earth will shake and their heart will smile and it will change them like it changed you. Nothing is guaranteed in art. And that's why I love artists so much. They're so brave. They put their heart and soul out there and hope someone will say "Oh hey I feel this way too." Artists deserve way more credit for they represent the human experience.

The process of art-making scares me but it's liberating.
Kay-Ann Feb 2015
one day I'll wake up and know what true happiness is.
Kay-Ann Feb 2015
flow like a river, rumble like the sea
where there is freedom, we will try to be

at the bottom of the Sea, they laid sands of promise and dignity
declaration of independence and the emancipation of slavery
we had high hopes of what we could be
and I believe we fulfilled it...partially
why partially you might say?
we've come from far but the Waters are musky and filled with decay
they tell you that you can have rights as long as you swim their way
the illusion they created is slowly fading away

but how dare you tell us where to swim when we live in a Sea
a Sea that's vast with sharks and oppurtunities
we are ubiquitous, we are Water, we are everywhere in this place
so why are we defined by status and race?
we are ubiquitous, we are Water, we have the ability to be
so why is the very air we breathe killing us slowly?
we are ubiquitous, we are Water, we hold dear life in our existence
but the sharks still come after us with absolute persistence
they make us look shallow but our Waters are deep
Genocides, discrimination and the slave trade, in our soil have seeped

Martin Luther King told us to use peace to heal our scars
so why are we always the driving force in wars?
I recall the Constituition having ideals based on equality
But life seems indefinitely harder for minorities
Oh sure we have a right to protest and assemble peacefully
But didn't I see blacks being tear-gassed while marching for Mike Brown in the streets?
Oh yes we are supposed to be a big, bad, free Sea
while our Waters are restricted, racist and murky

Maya Angelou told us she knows why the caged bird sings
through his efforts, he had hoped freedom will one day ring
they talk about us as pretty lakes and rivers that peacefully flow
but see there's an angry volcano erupting below
And our waters will never be clean until that volcano erupts
Ashes of repentance that will manifest into an island that's not corrupt

flow like a river, rumble like the sea
one day freedom will reign and that's where we'll be.....
hopefully
Kay-Ann Jan 2015
I went home for Christmas
and it's quite funny to say
life seemed to be the same
but to my mind everything has changed

I saw some things that
I've never noticed before
like how the Blue Mountains actually look kinda blue
and just seem to endlessly soar

I met up with an old flame
Reminiscing about old times made for a glorious night
So we were both not suprised at the fact
That our internal fires for each other were still burning bright

Countless cousins came to see me
I marveled at their growth and towering heights
I wish they had the same oppurtunities as me
To elevate their minds and take their first flight

I didn't see much of my friends from school
I guess they were too busy to reconnect
Only two of them showed up for my birthday
But it was the best one yet

It was now time for me to leave
I wasn't sure if Jamaica was still considered my home
But I do know one thing though
I will come back here and grow old
Kay-Ann Jan 2015
today someone asked me what my mother was like
I hesitated
Do I talk about her appearence
About how life and the heat of Jamaica has watered her down to a mere 110 pounds
or about how her lovely mischievious eyes have sunken, aching to escape this world
or maybe about the way she looked at me with pain and remorse because she can't provide a meal
No I should talk about her personality
I should tell them she's very family oriented
She will gladly con any man and spew sweet lies into their ear if it means putting food on the table
And that she loves to dress me up as if I'm a doll and take me out like I'm the only prize she has ever won in her life
I should definitely tell them that she has become the men that hurt her
Now all she does is lie and leave
I will tell them she has given up on all hope of finding true love
And that the only thing that gets her through life is her Bible and a knife
I ponder all these things but I just finally say
"She's nice"
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