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Talia Sep 13
A voice, dressed
in camouflage
tries to poison
the delicate mind

A voice, foreign
Seeks to shriek putrid words
that contort & ricochet
about the brain.

Despite subtle tiptoes
A wobble in its timbre
trips a wire
in the maze-like mind

A vile voice, doesn’t belong
to true Self-
Love
seizes the intruder,
to unmask a cowering Ego
Noticing that the negative voice in my head no longer even sounds like my own. It sounds as if a foreign voice is saying these things, whereas once my own voice and this voice where much the same.
Talia Aug 31
Simplicity holds my smile.
The present
ever worth my while.
Try give the globe
An optimistic spin
Because Hurt’s origin
is within.
a giant once walked this land
gautama, the Buddha
a giant, if ever there was one

hearts this parched,
minds this feeble.
for such a tribe,
why did he walk
the walk?

he saw -
clear,
and loud

each of us
has the spark
to be -
the giant that he was.
death?
an image,
of what would be (or could be).
a projection of the mind.

life?
in the face, against the skin
the raw fact, pulsating
buzz...
the real.

life is
a struggle.
life has to be earned -
each day.
making choices,
reviewing old ones.

newborn's first cry!
the urgency, the hunger,
with which we arrive.

Life&Death is -
a daily affair.
let the meaningful live.
let the pointless die.
each day.
  each moment.
    this very moment.
A flower’s beauty,
may blossom remarkably,
in harsh conditions;
plugging the funnel: nurture,
in light of one’s true nature.
My personified shadow,
I call her Renée.
She experienced the malevolency
bestowed upon me
and released through writing poetry.
My nightly tears on the page,
bled crimson,
in unison, she and me.

She, my personal protector;
taught me the freedom,
within expression,
feeling fearless among oppression,
my pages now read dry.
With anxiety and pain held at bay,
I am to be thankful,
to the personified shadow,
I call Renée.
Dark is to light, as black to white.
When we write, from what place?

I wrote,
dwelling there,
amongst the shadows,
without face; leeching for love,
my cup empty,
heart scattered into pieces.

I write,
divinely guided;
exploring unclimbed mountains,
where weakness and courage elope,
advancing towards freedom,
My cup fills,
healing below the glimmers of hope.

I accept,
my world of black,
as it mends into white,
for I know, what is in the dark,
is to rise to meet light.
I am of the past,
the present, and the future;
reminiscent reflections of incomplete potential.
Never satisfied with the present,
I seek a brighter image.
A confident black woman fulfilled.
Genduk May 14
...
Eat at home
Drink at home
Work from home
Love at home
Read at home
Nourish our home
Alone at home
Together at home
Make peace at home
Grow beans at home
Educate from home
Sit and cry
Grow patience
from home at home
Emir Jan 1
past in time
too unaware
before looking
down on
myself

now in time
crystal clear
bias unbound
conclusions come
I’m faulty
of something I
could correct

self reflection
to be aware
keeps me
up at night
playing back
events in time
I could’ve
done right
Trying to play around with my writing style, I hope you guys don’t mind. <3
As 2019 comes to an end, I come to a place in my mind where I look back and hope to not repeat the same mistakes. I hope this year (2020) is one of even more growth, because I am not perfect and unconsciously I walk around egoistical since I’m more emotionally intelligent than those around me. But that shouldn’t make me treat them different and less than.
I need to spread more love and that’s what I’m all about.
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