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Chuck Akot Oct 8
Is there ever a way to faint your heart,
or by simple means of gesture,
you will contain me,
the way how the earth is fed by the rain,
the way how a seagull flies,
with its flamboyant weight,
the way how exactly I am reduced to pieces,
like a grain of salt, the pebbles from the river,
or the pigments of a pollen,
I so far do not come this way to be uttered,
by words or symbols to create a certain story,
I come this way,
to let you know how much I love you.
Amy Dedman Oct 3
we are all either survivors
or truly living
too scared to go

the rest found it too painful
to stick around
and felt no fear in giving up

and leaving
Everything feels like nothing, and nothing starts to feel like everything.

Everyday. Everyday as I wake up,

Nothing ever beats the feeling of inadequacy.

Inadequacy to do good
Inadequacy as a daughter
Inadequacy as a student
Inadequacy as a person
Inadequacy in feeling good within my own body
Inadequacy from feeling good about myself.

Everyday feels like an endless loop, you best believe my misery hunts me.

But what is inadequacy?

Is it scarcity? Deficiency? Insufficiency? A lack thereof?

Is it this mindless blob, formless and dark or a mangled form of flesh, eating away at you and your insecurities?

Like a virus, it pins you, goes deep inside you and there is never enough antibiotic for you...

This inadequacy keeps me up at ungodly hours where the sun howls and moon chirps, the clouds look at us, feigning interest, idly looking but never interacting.

This inadequacy lulls me in irregular fever dreams where comfort lies in solitude and loneliness,
where the people that surround you, cover their ears, bites their cheek, looks forwards, smiles faintly, but never tries to understanding.

My heart wails for the smallest of things. Nothing, nothing becomes everything.

My successes make me feel less, still. Everything, everything becomes nothing.

I am this inadequate thing, floating around, never seeming to be enough.

Inadequate. Because i could not protect myself from those who touch my skin like its free real estate, those clammy hands holding me in a state
A state of frenzy that never seems to end

Inadequate. That no matter what I do, my past will forever haunt me and define the being I am now that no matter how much I change, and try and try and try to do good, it will never be

And those same voices, those same people, they say they scream they tell me,
“You should have told me.”
“You should have fought back.”
“You are a waste of time.”
“You are dumb.”
“You are nothing.”
“You waste your talents for something as this,”

And those same people, let go of words
That back then would have meant nothing
But now it seems to be everything
It becomes my identity
It becomes my oxygen
It becomes the blood that circulates in my body
It becomes the endorphins in my brain

Nothing becomes everything. And everything that I’ve tried to change, worked hard to achieve, tried to mend, was sorry for, starts to become nothing.

But I am tired of feeling like nothing. That everything I do is always inadequate. That it is some form of scarcity, deficiency, insufficiency, a lack thereof.

These mindless blobs, or mangled forms of flesh,

Like a virus, it pins me, goes deep inside me and there is never enough antibiotic for me...

Because instead of listening, to understand, to empathize, they listen so they can jeopardize...
Whatever love is left that I could give to myself,
Without a shred of doubt,
In a warm, bright embrace for myself, in a corner slouched.

So, I ask these voices, who are only here to remind how inadequate I am:
How do I fight back?
How do I be good enough?
How do I become less dumb?
How do I make nothing stay as nothing? And appreciate everything as everything?

Because day by day, this inadequacy I feel, gets really tiring.
• December 13, 2019 | 12 PM

This was my audition piece for a competition I auditioned for that unfortunately did not push through because of the pandemic. In my journey with poetry, I want to continue to hone my form and create something that is true to me but also mirrors the lives of others and that we may be able to share a sense of empathy for one another's struggles.
Big Virge Sep 14
I Guess Most Are IMPRESSED...
By Poets Who Are Blessed...
With... Mental Capabilities...
To Memorise Their Poetry... !!!!

Do These Poets IMPRESS You... ???

If Not... That's Cool...
But If YES Is Your Answer...

Cos' THIS It Seems...
Is The HOT Thing...
To Join Slam Poets School...

I Recite From Paper...
Cos' I Write From PAPER... !!!

It's Good To Read...
But MOST Now DON'T... !!!!!

Try Testing A Child And You'll BELIEVE...
Employers PLEAD For Kids Who READ...
But MOST Now Think... TECHNOLOGY...
Will COVER Their Lack of … LITERACY... !?!

I've Got A LAZY Mind...
When It Comes To Learning Rhymes...

But Poets Who I See...
With Retentive Memories...

Sometimes I Do Believe...
Can End Up STUNG Like Bees... !!!

When Words That They Had Memorised...
ESCAPE Their........... Memory...... !!!!!

Now Sometimes EVEN Reading...
Can Leave Some Poets REELING... !!!

But This To Me's APPEALING...
That Words They're Now Reciting...

Slam Poets Are Now SCREAMING...

"Our Stuff Can Have DEEP MEANING !"....

SOME Slammers DO...

But MOST Are Writing STUFF That PROVES...
They REALLY KNOW NOT What They Do... !?!

That's Got You People...
Saying... " Oooooohhhhhh "... !!!!

CALM Down Now Folks...
You Know I'm … “ COOL “...

Simply From My Vocal DROOL...
I'm Trying To Say That Reading's GREAT...
So When You Judge Judge Their WORDPLAY...
NOT Actions That Slam Poets... " MAKE "... !!!

If What You're Saying...
HOLDS NO Weight... !!!

Like KRS-One I.... " EDU-TAIN "... !!!

By Using Words...
To … FEED Your BRAIN... !!!

My Style AIN'T Built …
To Make You SMILE... !!!
Or For A Movie Like... " 8 Mile "... !!!!

I Just Compile Poems To RILE...
Slam Poets Living... In DENIAL...
cos' When Our Work Is Put ON TRIAL...
They'll Get DONE Like *******... !!!!

While Scrolls I Write In THIS HERE Style...
WILL BE Sought After Like.... " X Files "....


It's Time RIGHT Now...

"Big Virge has slammed,
and brought distress !
He's a ******* devil,
in poetic dress !"

I've Been God Blessed...
To Write... REALNESS...

So Are You People NOW...

... " IMPRESSED "... ???
Amy Dedman Sep 9
I have ten minutes to write this poem
I spare myself ten minutes
Every morning before I leave
Ten minutes to try and just breathe

Ten minutes act like they’re in a race
The one hundred metre sprint
They’re winning, it’s clear to me
They want to escape my life, as fast as they can be

With five minutes to go I look around for inspiration
The cold cup of tea on the table
Winks at me for validation
I remember and drink it til it’s empty

Four minutes to go
Til I become the cup of tea
Desperately urging to evaporate
Silently waiting til one of them drinks me

Lucky me I have two minutes to spare
I’ll finish this poem
I’ll grab my keys, put on my shoes
Arrive at my destination and pretend to care
Lemonade Aug 21
Dear you, I'm sorry you had to hear a sigh of disbelief from my end of the phone line, when you were trying to convince me that it's not all my flesh that you fancied. The people around this place had already made me believe, I wasn't loveable.

Dear you, I'm sorry about the time none of them in your family believed your truth.  When you were sobbing into a puddle of tears and babbling that you didn't even touch her, in a gasping, broken voice. The people alongside had already deluded their thought process. I believe you. If only she confronted them too.

Dear you, I'm sorry for when you couldn't decide what you wanted for yourself, or maybe you did but couldn't stand up for yourself. You fell apart after choosing what others made you believe you should. I'm sorry for all the times, you had to choose them over yourself. For all the times you tried to love them a little more and yourself a lot less.

Dear you, I'm a tad bit sorry for all the times I had a breakdown while we were trying to make love or now and again when it made you feel like you were wrong somewhere, and you didn't even let out a sigh. I'm not very proud of my narratives with men before. consensual touch is still quite alien to me.

Dear you, I am sorry for all the times you felt like you don't belong or sharing a shoulder was a shame. No, you deserve all the love that there is. The people around you don't know better. But you and I, we do. And we will survive this. You can be whoever you feel like. Let's lift the load together shoulder to shoulder. And never stop being artists, please.
Amy Dedman Aug 18
who put the brakes on
who paused the healing process
paused it to make a quick cuppa
cuppa was never made

shoved in the back of my mind
it’s all piling in
crammed in every crevice
out of my eyes, it spills

that’s an improvement i guess
although i just see it as a loss
control spilling out
whatever is left, i don’t want

how long til my only desire changes
to become tiny and hide away
it’s getting old now
but it’s the only thought that stays
Quwaine Aug 7
They say real eyes realize real lies
Social improvement disguised as gentrification.
Pandemics and self contained isolation,
Still doesn't stop the industrialized racism of our nation.
It's like they want me to be black, without being black,
they say black is as beautiful as the night sky,
but at the same time will make comparisons to my skin being the same colour as under the bed
you made it so lay in it.
dont try to justify your actions though the scapegoat of ignorance.
Its not bliss, its blisters.
The ice and fire of your words cause a chemical reaction that is more than skin deep,
Internally screaming, angry tears from my third eye weep.
But better not make a sound or a peep
Being an angry black man can prove to be fatal.
Labeled as a criminal but our melanin deficient counterpart's are simply mentally unstable,
our innocence and resonable doubt was left in the cradle.
Our depression was only made aparent after the dissolution of our family was concieved post-natal,
but they still want us to be grateful?
surpirsed that the thoughts from the recessess of my mind are ones that are hateful,
thinking that these blanco diablos have nothing but ill itentions
serenading me with affection and attention, while simultaneously executing their decpetion
But.... real eyes realize real lies.
Quwaine Jul 27
Just one step at a time,
I dont need to look at the bigger picture
no not now, i need to start to figure out
how the hell im going to keep moving forward.
Just one step at a time,
it doesnt matter if ive past the point of exhuastion
my legs are screaming for me to take caution
of the fact that my heat is beating out of proportion,
that my brain is projecting an image of my knees being strong
but its merely a distortion.
Just one step at a time,
You put her on a pedestal before and looked how that worked out
from doubt after doubt, self-consious feelings from within
get twisted on the tounge and when they come out
you wish the cat got it to it first
was it for better or for worse?
dont dwell on it now, put the chat in a herse
burry it all in the deepest part of our mind
its out of sight now so just leave it behind.
just one step at a time,
be careful for what you wish for
because curtiosity just might **** it,
in my feelings becuase of late replies
miscommmuncation and the grey woods of the mind taking the guise
of your pedestal,
corrupting your beautiful image
the athena to your medusa, turning all my hopes into stone
showing me the path ahead was one to be walked alone.
just one step at a time,
self diaganosing can often prove to be fatal
canerous results which can only be remedied with a second opinion
so be patient
its the vitrue of your friends whos advice, cracks the pessimistic dominion
your thoughts have on your mind, everything will be fine
if you take just one step at a time
No matter what if we take one step at a time we can get through anything, so just keep your head up and keep moving forward
Quwaine Jul 25
My love
It's quite volatile,
never wants to conform to any type of style
Spontaneous in its persuits of happiness
And keeps its optimism mile after mile.

My love,
May not be the love that I need but, is definitely the love that I deserve
It will make me an active participant even if I want to simply observe.
Stupid decisions which constantly gets on my nerves

Though it's still
My love,
It doesn't believe in give and take
It will go to the ends of the earth while ignoring the signs of the tank running on empty, but it always has substance
It can be shy at times, and just like a boiler in the heart of winter, it just takes a little time to feel it's warmth

My love,
and my heart don't always see eye to eye,
Its tired of seeing it's brother constantly taking a beating but will never say a word
Usually vocal, never seen but always heard.
It's been poked and prodded and ducked and curved

But it's my love, the love that I deserve.
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