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alex Oct 2017
in these times of chill
these times of blistering wind
i think it is important
to know how to keep warm.

you can reach for a hand
a body a furnace other than your own
and it may warm you
but for only as long as
it can sustain itself
after that, you’re both just ice.

and what if someone
reaches to you?
what will you say?
“i’m sorry i’m too cold
to warm anything at all”
how sad.

i begged myself for an answer
begged to know what to do
before the times of chill returned.
and, lovely and true as i am,
i responded:

put on your winter coat.
wrap your hands in fuzzy mittens
that make your insides feel fuzzy too.
double up on socks
and wrap your neck in a wool scarf.
you have everything you need
to feel warm when it gets cold
it was always with you.
you just have to dig around for a bit.

and so
in these times of chill,
i warm myself.

and my god,
do i recommend it.
alex Oct 2017
oh, how badly
i want to show you
the truth
that the sun does not shine for you
the sun will never shine for you
and you can live with that
oh, how badly
i want to show you
that you can be kind
******* you can be so kind
the kind of kind that
blooms the flowers in your chest
and leaves petals after your every footfall
oh, how badly
i want to show you
that things will only be okay
if you let them be okay
let them be okay.
let youself.
be okay.
oh, how badly
i want to show you
to tell you
to pound it into your ******* head
that
you
are
allowed
to
be
okay.
not every bad thing that happens to you is an attack on your existence. if you think that way, your existence will turn into an attack on your happiness.
Gerry Oct 2017
Life may be some sort of fantasy with different varieties.
Like a tree that grows graciously to ashes.
Like water that continuously flows in different circumstances.

Life may be good or bad.
Depends on how you look at it.
Depends on how you manage it.

Life may comes up short nor stays up long.
Sometimes longer, if you lose your way.
Sometimes shorter, if you served your purpose.

Life may have a sad and lonely ending.
Or having a happy ending.
Either way, live life to the fullest.
girl diffused Oct 2017
let me remind you:
know that i am the scream
i am the protest
i am the revolution
i am the awakening
of every black leader
every protester
every revolutionist
every poet
every writer
that has breathed and lived and paved paths
and immortalized and cut scathing with their art
that has cut swaths through rivers
that have tunneled through caves
that have smeared wet earth on their faces
that have picked through the foliage on mountains
know that i am every woman who has bled for her child
know that i am every foreign tongue that has unbound us
know that i am every unshackled and raised fist
know that i am a woman
know that i am a black woman
i am every black queen
i am not a display
i am not an object
i am not something to be coveted
you have no right to salivate over me
you have no right to stitch lust into my skin
you have no right
let me remind you:
i am a black woman
soft, wild, and free
I changed this a bit from what it was before. I ended up revising the capitalized "I" and making them all lowercase for the sake of cohesion. This is meant to be an empowering piece. It's old. At the time I wrote it I was reading Warsan Shire. Like me and so many other 1st-generation children from immigrants who are also artists or self-proclaimed or "budding," her work at some point deals with the topic of immigration, having immigrant parents, and also it deals with being a woman who is black. It deals with womanhood too.

A lot of my work is very romantic, dark, I would say cutting in some spaces. It has some macabre imagery, a lot of it is intentionally repetitious. A vast majority of it is also deeply personal. They are individual poetic narratives and I think poetry should first and foremost be about that poet's personal experience. Maybe I will write a poem that can be collectively about my race's experience, until then, what ever comes out, will come out.

This is, like Warsan's work, applicable to any other black woman. We quietly feel the need to assert and remind others of our worth, we quietly remind ourselves of our worth, we have to take part in a ******, mental, spiritual, and emotional evolution to love ourselves in a society that does not and has not historically loved us. It still doesn't.

This poem comes from that part inside of me that has felt this way. I've had partners most of whom were not of my race, most of them Caucasian, and some were fascinated with my being 1st-generation "somethingsomething" or "Caribbean."

I'm proud of my heritage and I always maintained and will maintain that. However, despite having been with accepting partners, accepting men and friends, there were some men that I felt liked me just because of my blackness or demeaned it (one did or attempted to). But this isn't just for me, it's for any woman who has felt or feels this way.

It's a reminder: you matter, you are black, you are ******* beautiful, but you are more than that outer beauty. No man can just be allowed to claim you ONLY for that.

This is my gift to every little black girl and woman
A gift from one black woman to another.
Enjoy. Xoxo.

Also, here's a link to info about Warsan Shire. I would highly recommend checking out some of her work. She's simply put, amazing.

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/warsan-shire
F Edward Oct 2017
words are currencies
i'm richer than a banker
typing at twilight
Grace Spellman Oct 2017
i wanna put a thousand kisses on your neck
and then listen to your heartbeat through your chest
i wanna look into your bright eyes
and be looking into those same eyes for life
i wanna write you a million love notes
and then write you a million more
i wanna stay up late at night
and go look at the stars
then go home and fall asleep
cuddled up in your arms
i wanna let you know
youre all i ever need

and i always hoped thats the way it'd be.
he loves me back, guys.
Donna Sep 2017
Friends come and go in
life , and it made me so sad
But now I'm happy
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