Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
  Jun 2016 Kishamore
Darrel Weeks
Try
swimming against the tide today
And if you drown
It's better than drifting forever
  Jun 2016 Kishamore
Tark Wain
I lost myself in you
and that's okay

when does the rain
become the ocean?
or the bread become
the ****?

it's all semantics isn't it really
isn't "myself" just my minds interpretation
of its known realities
balanced against my own fantasies
and furthermore if myself does not exist
then it wouldn't be able to be lost

clever

A mind is a beautiful thing
and it's great at convincing itself of things
it knows to be untrue
I lost myself in you
of that much I am sure

How did I lose grip?
when did I let myself get comfortable
why did I
it always ends the same way
in as much in that it ends
but you were supposed to be different
and even though I knew that to be untrue
my mind convinced itself of that

and that's okay
  Jun 2016 Kishamore
Maya Angelou
You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may **** me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.
  Jun 2016 Kishamore
Walt Whitman
I am he that aches with amorous love;
Does the earth gravitate? Does not all matter, aching, attract all matter?
So the Body of me, to all I meet, or know.
Next page