#bloodline
Just because
We are bound by blood,
Does not mean
We breed the same love.
We do not share
The same view,
Or see eye-to-eye.
You ponder in confusion,
Always wondering why.
Allow me to explain
These words of pain.
We do not
Share a connection,
We are not bound by the heart.
We are torn and broken,
Millions of miles apart.
We are fluent in fighting,
Storms and lightning,
Arising,
As we crash and burn.
And we turn.
Face the opposite direction,
Lost connection,
As we accept the truth.
Mother,
Bloodline is bound,
But I
Am far from you.
Nov 8, 2023
Nov 8, 2023 at 2:50 PM UTC
They say, the dying are greeted, by their mothers
She comes for them at the end
Her love reaching further than bookends
Loving before, when you’re but an idea
A single cluster of cells,
Pregnantly waiting,
For birth
You came into the world quickly,
Precariously, the way you moved in life
Your pace blazing—light speed
A glow that burned from the beginning
You were likely, the first person I ever held,
Me being too little to hold onto anything much bigger
But of course I adored you right away,
Right from when I first held you,
You made more than a daughter
You left the world quickly too,
during the month the sun burns the hottest,
August sweeping you into the air.
So I wonder, who came for you?
What I like to imagine,
and most desperately hope,
Is that you were greeted by a softness
A loving net cast by our grandmothers
Rocking you slowly
Pulling you back into our linage
Oct 24, 2020
Oct 24, 2020 at 11:19 PM UTC
*
*Wedding bells in Thebes
Jewelled treasure about slim throats
Strife passed down bloodlines*
*
Jun 30, 2020
Jun 30, 2020 at 5:41 PM UTC
Ties that bind are not easily broken.
What did you inherit in your bloodline?
For the fruit is a product of the vine.
We are the consequences of words spoken.
Our Ancestors sin is not forgotten,
planting seeds that grew into bitter wine.
They may have passed but we still pay the fines.
Their silence left us nothing but tokens.
The curses may last four generations,
but the blessings endure for a thousand.
We want to leave a good inheritance.
Elders to fight we need your confessions.
To dig and allow the cycle to end,
in order to give the next ones a chance.
May 23, 2020
May 23, 2020 at 12:23 PM UTC
And when
You are asked
"How old are you?"
Probably
My soul is
Much older
Than
Your blood line
Just reply
Just reply
If you don't want to
Still you have to
Dec 25, 2019
Dec 25, 2019 at 5:27 AM UTC
Sometimes I remember the scorn of my family,
Effigies of bloodlines crossed into a tired face.
I remember my mother,
Her vice was appearance-
Not her own but that of others.
Every day was judgment
She’d pick us before we bloomed and left wilted children
Questioned the lack of fruit
Not with self-deprecation but with scorn
How dare we cross the farmer who sowed the seeds and watered the crops?
How dare we look towards the sky for comfort?
When that cold trowel could dig in our necks.
I remember one time my mother asked me if she was the problem
A lie, I’ve heard that question many times
How can you curse a broken human more than she does herself
And somewhere in my head, I justify it
Consider the kindness built on vanity to be kindness nonetheless
Flowers do not need to be alive to be beautiful
They can be so frailed and dried up they become immortal
A crumbling tombstone of decay
And we marvel at them
And I remember that I am a product of my mother
Jul 3, 2019
Jul 3, 2019 at 11:21 PM UTC
My name is not one that is so easily forgotten. I’ve met faces
who shake my hand and admit that my name has a familiar ring. It
will wrap itself around your tongue,
take shelter in the grooves of your brain,
etch itself into your flesh,
and make a drumbeat of your pounding heart.
I am the red flowers that bloom in the Western Cape.
I am the violet quartz, the precious gemstone,
and I may be worn around your finger or wrapped around your
neck if the month of lovers breathed life into your lungs.
I am rooted in the grounds of Israel.
I was promised by God in the Hebrew tongue.
My blood is spread over the Middle East,
my complexion is of light-bathed soil,
and I am a unity of scattered heritage.
You cannot forget me, no matter how you may try.
I am cradled in the back of your mind.
I live in shades of red, from flowers to blood.
I live in shades of purple, from gemstones to sunsets.
I am the embodiment of love,
and I linger in every inch of this Earth.
Aug 6, 2018
Aug 6, 2018 at 12:12 PM UTC
And what's worse
cursed
with something of a conscience
that despite being disrespected
and
***** will not let me leave.
Vulnerability
pressed
to the face of death with a smile
stretched ear to ear bowed
down
under the weight of fear.
Courageousness breaks
heavy pain. I use it against you.
Prostrate to the matrons
I begged for your courage for me.
Surprise
Surprise
Even when you hurt your loved ones
You focus on yourself
Surprise
Surprise
Even when you hurt someone you love
You protect yourself
You double down
in the name of pride.
Newsflash:
Your children are smart enough
to purposefully see
that they never procreate
if only for the world
to both act Atropos
on this overgrown
carcinogen
to humanity
and slash the path
of another hillbilly bloodline
Jun 1, 2018
Jun 1, 2018 at 3:34 PM UTC
I was born with a gifted cooking hand
and the fact that I'm also a Bassa man,
made my job easier when I worked the grill
as a student chef at Salvatore's on Snapper Hill.
This proves that I'm my father's son,
The late Rev.Peter Brooks's grandson.
I now know the source of my looks
I'm genetically one of the Brooks.
No wonder why people say I'm cute,
Well, this I can deny neither refute,
Meaning I'm truly my father's son,
The late Rev.Peter Brooks's grandson.
From the way I dribbled the soccer ball
and the fact that I never grew very tall,
proven by the old measurement on the wall,
and cumulated by the fact that I'm going bald,
all prove that I'm truly my father's son,
The late Rev Peter Brooks's grandson.
IB-Poetry©️
3/3/2018
Mar 3, 2018
Mar 3, 2018 at 3:42 AM UTC
Hierarchy?
⚜️
a system of life
where i shall follow your orders,
your majesty
⚜️
I'm startled from your cruelty
⚜️
danger is looming ahead
so
excuse my charisma
⚜️
but you should beware
'cause I'm the SIGMA
⚜️
the sigma
the knight
who stands up
and fight
⚜️
the mighty sword
in his hands
⚜️
standing up
against the King
⚜️
He's fighting for the good
of
Humanity
Apr 7, 2017
Apr 7, 2017 at 3:03 PM UTC
Love, love, love
It runs so deep like the roots of a tree
Connecting together
A flower attracting a bee
Love, love, love
Runs so deep
Heals you and cleans you
The way alcohol does a wounded knee
Love, love, love
You will see
When my gramma looks at me
Love, love, love
smells so good
My grammas baked goods
My grammas pillow case
My grammas hair
And her whole face
Love, love, love
It's everywhere
From the smile formed with her lips
And the softness of her strong gramma hips
To the apron that she wears
And the so tantalizingly familier scent my mother shares
Because
Love, love, love
Paves the way
It will never lead you astray
Love, love, love
It runs so deep like the roots of a tree
It is embedded in you the way it's embedded in me
Love, love, love
Has us entangled
From the inside of beating hearts
To the dirt under the earth.
May 27, 2016
May 27, 2016 at 9:14 AM UTC
In mine
D.N.A;
The blood's compound
Spelleth out the name"Earl Jane".
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane nagley dedication
Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 9:17 AM UTC
Scars cover the marks,
That aspire to shine.
The marks of war,
To define the bloodline.
Exquisite Mortal,
Of Athenas birth.
Leading an army to war,
Using her right of birth.
Dragon of the sky,
Always by her side.
To battle they ride,
To fight.
Enemy ahead,
Lay down your arms.
You will not match my power,
Now bow before the Queen.
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 8:53 AM UTC