Who am I to try to force anything,
Fooling my true self with illusions that separated me
From my own completion.
Oh how often I forget
When I'm questioning life,
To just let go..

Like the waves in the sea
Always returning to where they belong.

Here I shall find myself
With an understanding from a deeper place.
Oh how often I forget
That what is meant for me
Will always find its way to me.
Who am I to chase anything
In fear of it going away.
Forgetting that whatever is chased
Wasn’t mine anyway.

How silly I was
To lose trust in life,
In my destiny that’s surely on its way and is always there
Like the waves in the sea
Always returning to where they belong.

Now I've been reminded again,
From the depths of my own knowing
Initially showing itself as rejection,
Now transforming into so much more.

-Zowie Conway Writing <3

searching for the words to say.
you know those
that chase thoughts away
that force the confidence
that I have in these words
to dissipate.
I love you.
seems so easy.
but in the past have been the catalyst
causing the whole thing to go aray.
those words which carry so much depth
yet hold not enough weight.
to convey what I'm actually trying to say.
I love you.
but I don't mean it that way.
your thoughts
your being
the way your hips sway
all have broken the walls I have built
until this day.
I love you.
but makes the words so hard to say
to your face.

Yellow is my heart,
Yellow is my blood,
Yellow is the flood that drowns me slowly.
It tells me to grow
As if there were any comfort in that
Go with the flow
As if there were any comfort in not knowing.
I have lied to myself so much
If I didn’t have to I and I would never reconcile.
Yellow is my bed,
Yellow is my stomach,
Yellow is the bucket that stays dry.
It shows me all the pain I have not had
As if there were any comfort in that.
You do not need to cry
As if there were any comfort in that.
I have raped myself so many times,
If I didn’t have to I and I would die at the sight of the other.
Yellow is my breath,
It smells a bit like stale wine,
Yellow is my mind
It looks a bit stained with too much time,
Yellow is my heart,
Yellow is my blood,
I promised not to promise anymore,
And you keep telling me to let go,
That you know,
But the walls of your home are still standing,
And I have a tendency of losing things,
Like my keys,
My father,
Why is it that I need to show my pain for it to be recognized?
Why is it that the sun still shines even when it lies?
Why is my sorrow dismissed just because I try.
I try and I will try again,
That doesn’t mean I feel less pain.
I feel pain.
I feel pain.
I feel pain.
I feel pain.

He left me for no reason.
I’ve learned that you can give the world to someone and end up with nothing.
It just stays stuck in the empty space between two people.
You know it by heart.
It’s the same place as where the broken promises lie.
Why the fuck do I still try if only those who’ve given up get medals,
if only those who’ve given up are beautiful when they cry,
if only those who’ve given up are allowed to die.

I started hating the brightest parts of myself because as much as people love light
they only find comfort in darkness.
And I find life in it.
And all of my light is flooding through my bones,
My broken bones,
It’s the only thing I want to let go of.
I promised not to promise anymore.
I put away that little box of gold,
Let it shatter on the floor,
If I break things well enough they can’t walk away from me anymore.
I am only stating what I am afraid of,
I am painting myself in ink,
painting myself in yellow.
I am but a symptom of my own fear.
And it tells me to grow.
It tells me to grow.
So I do.
So I do.

a poem i wrote during in the process of loosing my father, after being dumped and loosing my ground
like to recording :

let's imagine a time when I hated this skin I'm in.
way before ink ever flowed through this pen.
when I was never proud to be told I was
Tanio Indian.
the blacker the berry
the sweeter the juice.
no the blacker your skin the closer to your roots,
and the further black people
will stray away from you.
you'll be called names
that would break even the strongest
to their delight.
you can be beautiful
with long hair.
but their not even aware.
chasing another girl with black skin
yet more fair.
now I'm standing in the store searching though the creams
yes guys.
young black girls do these things.
mom calling your phone,
but your not done
for the one that works
as the mirror stares at you,
hoping your wishes come true.
turn this dark skin into something
more pleasing for you.
unaware of the tears
that are always there
clouding your vision.
so you can never see the truth
that you are the most beautiful of the two
Brown Queens
this is for you
sometimes you are the only smudge in the room.
we are ignored, chastised, and cast aside
for most of our young lives
until you wake up on your own and realize
those pictures on your phone don't represent women like YOU
women with the perfect hue
never a blemish or imperfection
could ever be seen by the likes of you
and you finally understand the attention
was always on you
veiled by insults you couldn't see through
little brown girls with curly hair
you matter and your skin does too.
that was something I could never tell myself
but then again I had no help from young women like myself
cause most of them wishing they was Gina
we still don't get what that representation means
how Pam had a connection to queens.
but how auspicious they've made the cover up
it never really had quality
but means to further divide our people away from black equality.

BSeuss 3d

The days when the bed monster took possession of peace.
Where on earth were you when I was strangled by the sheets.
The days when everyone thought that they knew what they see;
where the hell the were you when the blind man walked around me.

Good to see you again.
I still love you.
... stay very far away from me, okay?

From pain comes growth
and brings beauty in the end

From fire comes regrowth
And blossoms are beautiful
oli 7d

the girl i used to love no longer resides within you. sometimes i believe that is a good thing but other times sorrow makes my chest collapse. you were not the sun, but a moon glowing due to false light. the false light i put you in. the you i know now hides behind a mask of false smiles, false compassion. "your behavior has become increasingly vexatious" i told you last. your mask was being sewn onto your face and i don't know who the real you is anymore. the only answer is that we both grew and changed, but now im happy to say we grew apart.

for whom i still love

I’ve never seen God

Only my Father:

Meth in his beak,  

    Stale circus peanuts in



Michalis Jul 14

Hear my roar,
taste my bitterness,
feel my urges of temptation!

Oh, thou pain of acceptance,
Oh, thou cutting knifes of belonging..
So much for inclusion,
the most destroying illusion!

Have I been fearful?..
I certainly have!
Have I been pretending?..
To the uttermost!

yet, something disturbs me now..

My heart is torn apart,
a seed to arise,
an original to despise.

Growing through the mud here,
pass the lonely towers,
above the cities of void,
unto the edge of the universe,
and further into emptiness!

Only He can accept Me,
Only He can relate to Me,
and as faithful as the morning sun,
I’ll lay my life upon His Alter of Mercy.

Hear my roar,
taste my bitterness,
but behold!
I shall drink His water of redemption!

A poem I wrote 4 years ago as I began walking in earnest towards my own freedom and self-actualization!
aj Jul 14

a red beginning on the crown of his head;
king of nothing,
prince of everything -

there's room to grow.

under a black horizon,
the shades of red hidden in bleak
are delicious and

demon king, demon king

he spreads his wing under the eclipsed sun:
a shadow of a former self.

no longer does he wait for the world
for a seat at the table.

he has learned that hell can be raised
when heaven won't come down.

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