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 Jul 2014 Maya Uma
Born
Call me a smoker
If you can read my poetry and get high on it
Call me the messenger
If you believe my poetry is talking to you
Call me a rapper
if you can create lyrics out of me
Call me a preacher
If you believe my Scriptures made you believe in God once more
Call me a taker
if you read my poetry a thousand times from different beings

Call me a pretender
If my poetry is just one of those many fictions you've read
call me a killer
if my poetry made you lose hope in love
call me a stranger
if you don't know me but we can still cling
call me a liar
if you just hate me and my poetry
call me a sister
if my poetry lived in one of your moments

Call me an executioner
if I told you that "bitter" truth you always knew but escaped
Call me a brother
if you know deep inside we are one
call me ?
If I showed you who Romeo is
Call me diary
if you read my poetry and remembered that you were here once upon a time

Call me a stalker
if my poetry is always talking about your ex
call me a friend
If my poetry told you that you love him/her very much and that's the scary part
call me a believer
if my poetry said something about judgment day
Call me a poet
if you believe am getting better at expressing myself,your world and the moment

If your reading this right now and you believe poetry is what brought us together.*call me Carter
being real
1346

As Summer into Autumn slips
And yet we sooner say
“The Summer” than “the Autumn,” lest
We turn the sun away,

And almost count it an Affront
The presence to concede
Of one however lovely, not
The one that we have loved—

So we evade the charge of Years
On one attempting shy
The Circumvention of the Shaft
Of Life’s Declivity.
 Jul 2014 Maya Uma
Michael
Psyche.
 Jul 2014 Maya Uma
Michael
She cannot sort the grain. After all these trials, I have been lost yet again. —But fairy tales have been this ruthless before; myth has given me wings, has painted my shoulders with fur, with scales, with scars. Legends have broken me down into all the smallest invisible facets of myself until I could do no more than vanish entirely. Who will love me behind the walls? Within my keep, another girl's impatient hands will light the candle to gaze upon sleepless eyes, and wake within me all the anxious demons hiding inside Pandora's Box.
East of the Sun, West of the Moon.

— The End —