My imagination turned wild
I made you true in my head
You were beautiful and kind
So perfectly defined
Physically so similar
But in fantasy, you were divine
One of the kind.
I like my mind's craft
Not you, you are too human
When I see you in contrast
You don't hold a flame
You are not the same
You are not who I crave.
You never hurt me with words,
Actions are very just,
And you care about me,
Not you, but the one in the head
You are not even a shadow
In his bright light,
But he makes me sad too
By not existing in this world.
Integrity is a virtue that is a choice to learn and uphold,
Not something that we are born with
I shouldve posted this back in July but here we are...
This is something that has been weighing on my heart really...
I've honestly made strides to be a better person with better integrity in life.
I have made alot of mistakes in my life...
And there are times where I dont even feel worthy or deserving to be wordsmith. As much as I practice my craft, I always feel like I truly dont deserve the blessings I have when I think of past mistakes.
As I get older, it's really dawned on me the magnitude of my bad choices.
And I do want to work towards being a better individual.
I really fear the day where one of my bad choices will cost me all I love dearly, because now I truly understand and appreciative the writing craft as well as art in general. I've vowed to start again, I'm reading and relearning from the greats and more artists what it means to be an artist.
This one is for you, Cessna.
I made such an injustice towards you and no words can express my deepest sorrows. But know that I own up to my mistakes, my bad choice and i have learned from the very beginning again. I'm becoming more relentless in studying the written word.
I truly want to begin again...
I may not deserve such forgiveness but I wanted to make it know at least.
I'm truly sorry.
I'll keep working on myself and keep moving forward.
someday you’ll learn this craft and the extreme patience it
requires, how to savor a word, its conjunction with the one that
comes before and after, the combinations that make a verse, a stanza
sobering beautiful that it robs your breathtaking sensors, a scar minder to, for god sakes, ****! stop! **** that trip to trite, give us something to shout about
your book of religion was scripted by those who felt imprisoned by the ones they called witches.
We'd all be so much better off from the start
if we attained to a clean mind and pure heart
'cause they work together well but not so apart
and our lives would end up being a work of art
finished by an accomplished artist at their craft
who'd also be highly regarded prior to the draft
on a blank canvas of our life's unfolding drama
without anything to hinder the superb panorama.
Written early in 2020.
Rain slowly seeps into my soul
Gathering gently at my pores
Slowly wandering, searching
for any life of creativity
A blank canvas awaiting a
stroke of color
Coloring out of bounds
No Lines, boarders,
With only the power of a
pen. Control is given over
Free falling endlessly
No longer the beholder
-A Black Girl Untold
kindness is a rare craft,
yet it's etched on you;
so show the world
what you're made of,
the world will share
the story of you,
and they'll speak
in the language of kindness,
the language of you
a poem dedicated to a friend
hey Juls (Juliet), if you're reading this, thank you for everything.
thank you for showing us what kindness is made out of.
best of luck in your journey, and may you do what you do best.
Don’t let the medium dry
Moisten This Creation
by ANY MEANS necessary
For This Creation to become pedestal WE MUST :
off of a capillary bag
under a dense healthy breath
to suckle an engorged breast
IF WE DO NOT
we risk it becoming husk ;
good only for digs and dust shops.
For This Creation, WE MUST queue
with our blood tapped
our breeding fluids
our various flows carefully labelled
and in sterile pouches
our donor cards filled out
steady for sacrifice
Keep This Creation wet
and it shall be a beacon
a call to awareness
a beckon of craft for us all
and not some common art-hole
In time THE CREATION SHALL SERVE US
(a toothed Whale out of water
awaiting a machine strong enough
to return it to the ocean)