Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sierra LaPierre Jan 2013
Perhaps it is only now
I am discovering
the depths of my brokenness
go beyond border, barrier,
core, and atmosphere…
that I am out there, scattered
to make a universe
of dust and fire, shattered debris
stretched light-years across darkness
burning glimpses through the distance,
pacing heavy circles ‘round myself
to find a center so far from the heartland.

But I can bring
only so much order
to my chaos, reason
so well with madmen,
my method is a shadow
of the sweet wisdom torn
to pieces by too much of one’s own company.
I am separated to fill void with void,
a noise-induced silence, song of songs,
I am attempting to cancel myself out
of all in one that will never again be All And One,
I will atrophy every part until my stars are numb
and the sense comes that I was Never
and None.
My mind is a web made of
mirrors that reflect the mysteries
of what is now history, that
distort the present and come to
blind me with flashes of
all the could-be’s, would-be’s
and all the could-have-been’s
I am a damsel living
in a world that is not
quite fit for me, but I’m
afraid there is no choice
but to Let It Be, and
though perfection is
unattainable, happiness
might not be so far
I am a recovering perfectionist
and I am trying to learn the
beauty of a land where not
everything aligns, where one
man’s flaw is another’s design
I passed the new york in your eyes notriously
before ever really speaking the language that they shrieked
the rigourus dimensions
the pale fingers speak

send your signals to me
fly seas
dance in breeze
remember the ****** when in her blackened tongue she speaks
fragility giving birth to her gritty skeletons
came to me one night and begged me to breathe
poetically told me it was me the universe seeks
not who they said I was
but to shed the hiding technique
the ill and sly words in my tongue raging to leak
the ordained freak and the memories
laying in the back of my mind somewhere,
those
those real antiques
to my side I kick those ordinary bullies
and now Im watching them burn in the lowest average of these cities
I let my hair grow
wear bright colors
and dance the dance of the gipsies
I take life back further than the fifties
then further then the thirties
I run to the cemetary and mingle with that one zombie
the one who I let go of
and let him explain to me the details of my hidden worries
he tells me to let them go
I shoot the fatigued oldness in the heart with the spine of my arrow
I make loves to all my shadows
I hallow in my very mellow
state of mind
my intrinsic phsyco
my cronic rainbow
I dont need your superfiality
because as human I have won the mental lotto
Khadijat Bello Dec 2022
Africa my Africa
The giant rock on the river bank
Yes! Africa the lover of her nations
The giant of all continent

Africa the lover of culture
In Africa, culture communicates…
beauty and love.
Have you seen our wrappers?
The magnitude of her colours is so adhering
See the beauty of our caravan
The movement from place to place,
Yes we're gipsies!

The momentum of our brotherhood
And love in our diversity
Africa the lover of all tribes
And giver of livestocks
Mama, the best in humanity and culture

Let's talk about art...
Have a look at our vast nature
That my dear is art itself
The beautiful seas of green
The alluring spirits of the canvas
The beauty in the artist pen
Bringing out the best images in art, beauty and culture
When you talk about culture and heritage,
I call for your hearing...
Africa
Mother that won't give up her brotherhood
You speak about peace and love?
I'll tell you about Africa… which after many wars, still keeps her children
She's a plate that dish out love and affection in her own language not minding your understanding
Yes we're Africans. And we know humanity, love and culture.
I don't know what part of the world you are from.
But here in Africa, we speak in culture and style.

Bellah.
This piece is for the love of my home continent. Looking at it from all angle, africa is beautiful. I love her as much as i'd love every other African's to
midnight prague Oct 2010
I passed the new york in your eyes notriously
before ever really speaking the language that they shrieked

the rigourus dimensions
the pale fingers speak
Im crisp
as the apple giving birth to her death
send your signals to me

fly seas
dance in breeze

remember the ****** when in her blackened tongue she speaks
fragility giving birth to her gritty skeletons
came to me one night and begged me to breathe
poetically told me it was me the universe seeks

not who they said I was
but to shed the hiding technique
the ill and sly words in my tongue raging to leak
the ordained freak and the memories
laying in the back of my mind somewhere,
those
those real antiques


Im a princess in the world of words itself
and the universe is my boutique
I brush the pink smile upon my cheek
and I grab what I want with the strength of ease

to my side I kick those ordinary bullies
and now Im watching them burn in the lowest average of these cities
I let my hair grow
wear bright colors
and dance the dance of the gipsies
I take life back further than the fifties
then further then the thirties

I run to the cemetary and mingle with that one zombie
the one who I let go of
and let him explain to me the details of my hidden worries

he tells me to let them go

I shoot the fatigued oldness in the heart with the spine of my arrow
I make loves to all my shadows
I hallow in my very mellow
state of mind
my intrinsic phsyco
my cronic rainbow

I dont need your superfiality
because as human I have won the mental lotto
Keiri  Nov 2019
Red and Blue
Keiri Nov 2019
An artists life is blue
When its mind is red

A gipsies say is true
When you're already dead.

A smiley can be sad
and crying can be good

A life can be pointless
If you can't see where you stood.

A world can be square
and a line can be straight.

It's a neverending line,
because you are affraid.

Affraid of the face of blue
And the colour of red

Affraid to see you
Affraid of the dead.
Me in a neverending smiling depression. A class clown on the outside, dead on the inside, a mess in the mind, broken in my heart... but no time to feel bad, because life goes on, bills have to be paid and no one cares about how much time you need, so you pretend to be fine

— The End —