I drew stick figures
things were simple

in a pencil world
mistakes were erased
you could start over

but an inchmeal awareness nagged
- the sky isn’t gray, it’s a liquid blue

but crayons were complicated
you couldn’t erase things
mistakes were irrevocable.

and there were 148 colors in the big box
keeping them in rainbow order was work.

growing up is hard

20th birthday
I've forgotten when to breathe
and my mother is my only friend
the last one yet to leave.
I am feverish skin
to March's first chill breeze
tripping over, again and again
afraid to pull my hands from my sleeve.
20 years old now
a full on woman in sheep's clothing
but I don't know how
to live life without loathing
love, and bills, and here and now's.
Myself, pulling on a window that's already closing.

Energy radiates and traces my body with celestial tones
I am more alive than I’ve ever been
when surrendering to awe and wonder
the same way my younger self fearlessly did

something about that glimmer hasn’t left yet, may never leave
memories still have flavors to me
mornings with a lake of flakes in my bowl
or years and years later when a fried hangover cure restores me
each month and its esculent flashbacks are a part of me
a cell in the skin
a beaten feather in the wing

something about the glimmer hasn’t left yet
the Earth is still new
and discoveries never expire:
new scenery
new explorations
new chronicles in the cinema
new kindred spirits
new waves of audio
new therapeutic solitudes
all balancing out the
new captivities
new mistakes
new mediocrity
new unhealthy solitudes
and more

until the body is a home base of homeostasis
commensalism at its finest

but something about the glimmer hasn’t left yet, may never leave
I outgrew shadows who doubted their expiration dates
I don’t rubricate the sky in a rage
anymore
don’t let the heartbreak pause a pulse
anymore
don’t let misanthropy obscure who I see
anymore
don’t let uncertainty’s web catch me in a paralysis
anymore

or at least I try

something tells me I’ll never “age out”
of my hunger to live fully
I know deep down you're similar
your craving will not fade into cinders

oh what a feelin!
To be trippin on nostalgia.

It's Pouring Ova here, Its falling..
Just look at the rain you've allowed..
It's raining , it fills my room...
This rain inspires though its pouring lightly..
It increases gently..
You said you can feel it too.
The rain is growing flowers, in my room..
The grass grows with energy..
Pouring within me respectively..
Raining... I can still hear you saying.. its raining for you too.
Overwhelmingly....
abundantly.. fun while... dancing meaningfully.
Rain.. Raining excites destiny.. Pouring fully..
Spilling from my room...
Sunlight above the cloud as its pouring.. Blissfully..
So luxuriously. keep raining..Over me..

keep pouring..
keep falling sweetly..
Raining.. Inside.. Raining outside.. Love reigns...Beautifully..

Such Rains...
a Good thang..

SelinaSharday_H.E.R#POETRY 2022......S.A.M

As I traverse the road
As I sail through sea
wind on my face, hair back
grin on my face, getting backtracked.

As I traverse the road
As I sail through sea
wind's there, no waving hair
moonlight off the skull, giving glare.

As I traverse the road
As I sail through sea
stiff joints, drifting BMI
monotonous monochromatic life.

As I traverse the road
As I sail through sea
colors faded, cinder remains
butterfly butchered, moth's reign.

What if I finally woke up and decided to understand my life isn't a mistake...
Did I finally grow up?

Nascent and emerging
Yet growing every day
Bitcoin’s only dawning
Come join without delay

Incipient, forthcoming
With still some way to go
Like a constant drumming
Measured, strong and slow

Budding and beginning
In young and infant stage
Yet nations it is winning
As it slowly comes of age.

Changing us while growing
More freedom and more hope
Still small - yet never slowing
In numbers, and in scope

Original, advancing
It clarifies our view
Bitcoin - worth defending
Continues strong and true