wearing worries like body paint,
i scrub at my face with
fingers twitching. i want to be held
linked and locked down
with love this time, not *******.
each twinge in my sternum
reminds me how unsafe i really am,
living lavish in a daydream-
watching butterflies while dollars fly-
but faces make me face fears sometimes.
i would hate to lose sight of this one,
a little glimpse of heaven in
freckles by the thousands;
racking up riches in joy
despite all the bills & bad dreams piling.
it seems a mistake to measure life
by love, living in a world bent on
material successes & managing debt
but i guess i can give into gratitude
coz its price is peacefulness.
04 oct 2019
anxieties amidst blessings
i heard prayer slips through song-lines
laid down by the grandmother of the gods
syllabic, notched into an ancient yew tree
like a measure of the love she had deep
each time a prayer slips through my lips
i thought it would dissipate, gratification
and there they gathered like silt on a river bank
words collecting into blessings to bestow
lost faith forever ago.
she's returned, y'all, life's worth the wait.
blessings as heavy as berries on a branch, just as sweet <3
27 september 2019
i held a special sweet magic, held
it in the center of my sternum
& i named the magic joy;
it lifted me swinging high
dancing like i never did before
& held aloft, i could feel soft.
too soft it seems, joy swung away
after hands held mine down
& stole the safety-
now all i felt was cold there
held heavy above my sternum
& tears fell as i did
losing altitude with each anchored
memory of that nameless pain
& all i held was ashes, ashes.
but here is a river, wash away pain
let me rest, clean palms held open
& eyes cast outwards.
i read somewhere to listen
to babbling brooks and butterfly kisses
& to know i'm loved again
by the way the morning dew shines
after heavy rain clouds pass me by. listen
& know joy is coming.
"listen i love you joy is coming"
regaining joy. thrive vs. survive.
27 aug 2019
[To The Woman Crying Uncontrollably In The Next Stall]
If you ever woke in your dress at 4am ever
closed your legs to a man you loved opened
them for one you didn’t moved against
a pillow in the dark stood miserably on a beach
seaweed clinging to your ankles paid
good money for a bad haircut backed away
from a mirror that wanted to **** you bled
into the back seat for lack of a ******
if you swam across a river under rain sang
using a ***** for a microphone stayed up
to watch the moon eat the sun entire
ripped out the stitches in your heart
because why not if you think nothing &
no one can / listen I love you joy is coming
listen i love you joy is coming
27 aug 2019
not my words, yet my sentiment 100%
blistering in the sunlight
we were starry eyed children,
promised peace on stolen land
untended and not held sacred.
we turn to the outer edges -
is our only true salvation,
where brokenness is understood -
called by sores, our open wounds;
we are unfit to live lavish
too broken to call capital
our grace in the wrath of today.
i see their pride in passivity
their keen sense of calm.
bread and circuses a distraction
against chaos clogging our veins
and perhaps it's too truthful
to rip off bandages, let skin blister and pop
like the shells in the bodies of children
broken by the theft of freedom.
perhaps the calm itself is chaotic
more so than open wounds --
it festers sweetly while i scream
begging for justice for our siblings.
i see family in the raging ones,
whose fellowship lies at the edge,
harsh bullets a reward for those
too broken to stand complacent.
i see love in fires set
beneath the seats of rich men,
against the gears of genocide;
no more can i rot silently.
my family falls like meteors do -
living and dying alight -
to break barriers like the sky
and be held sacred by soil below;
we are not stars, nor do we
call ourselves saviors, yet we live
with our wounds bleeding freely
to carry our siblings out of suffering.
we may yet fall alight and broken
but we do so for the right reasons.
rest in power willem van spronsen (emma durutti). be joyfully revolutionary even as it is the hardest path to tread, for only paths littered in hardship lead to the light that carries all to freedom.
15 july 2019 | 3:03am
"if you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor" - desmond tutu
I dreamed in
like a mystic without
a single sound
and no "experience"
no faith in intellect
nor the jumps of gymnasts
on mental grounds,
is there a world to be found?
Ghost in the room
or just my bones?
I cannot wind down,
not til I've known
I haven't merely jumped
"all of my own"
some subjective truth.
I won't even call
these times testing grounds.
I'm not a rational soul
nor the other one
and my hearts not in it
nor am I comprehending
this? In all its "comprehensively."
and what's all this believing
all beside me the
logic and the "obviously"
I'm as oblivious as I've ever been
is this how it's meant to be?
Can't we simply see simply?
here's to life, that which i
shall sift through, as fingers
do through the dust and sand;
the tip of my index traces
spirals curving inward
while i hum, knees bent
and the sky is wide open
words, wisdom falling
out of the mouths of angels
wind beating at God's whisper
carried gentle yet rifled through
'til just the seeds are left alone.
i may never ken what causes
an empathy of roots and rhythm
or what stirs tears to swell
all i understand is this
that sacred is within, without
while i trace spirals in the sand.
29 de marzo 2019.