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#lineage
They walked us down through cottonwoods the leaves rattled like small bones. Mud ****** at our boots. The river smelled of salmon blood and wet iron. “This is your turn,” they said. “Your turn to weave.” They sat us along the bank knees in the cold silt while the elders pulled story from their mouths hand over hand silver filament bright as fish scales in lantern light. I understood. Grandmother lived in those branches. You could feel her listening. The threads changed color as they spoke. Storm-dark pewter like the river before rain. Then thin as spider silk when someone whispered a name too sacred to hold long in daylight. “Now you.” I shut my eyes hard mosquitoes whining near my ears and prayed to whatever lived in water the quiet old saints who ride the backs of salmon. Then suddenly a net of words shivered into my hands. Wet rope smell. Knots tight as knuckles. Moonlight caught in every strand. “This one is yours,” they told me. “Now cast it.” So I stood there a skinny girl in borrowed boots and threw that net into the black breathing river. Again. Again. Months went by like that. Fingers raw from knotting stories. Rope burns in my palms. The net coming back empty silver dulling toward gray like old jewelry buried in river sand. Years passed. The river widened. I forgot the girl on the bank. Then one night my line ****** hard in the dark. rope heavy with distance and saw it threading through my own mesh gold. Not a glimmer not a trick of light. Your net had crossed mine somewhere far out where the current runs thick with shadow. Gold through silver. Silver through gold. The ropes crossing so often it became impossible to see where one ended. Some nights the river carried a sweetness ferment rising from the reeds thick enough to make the lantern flames dance. Some nights the current snapped and lunged dragging the mesh sideways until the rope burned my palms raw again Still the nets tangled deeper dragging strange glitter from the dark water stories bright as coins others sharp as broken glass. From the shore if grandmother had been watching she would only nod and keep weaving.
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Mar 8
Mar 8, 2026 at 5:08 PM UTC
Gold Through Silver
They walked us down through cottonwoods the leaves rattled like small bones. Mud ****** at our boots. The river smelled of salmon blood and wet iron. “This is your turn,” they said. “Your turn to weave.” They sat us along the bank knees in the cold silt while the elders pulled story from their mouths hand over hand silver filament bright as fish scales in lantern light. I understood. Grandmother lived in those branches. You could feel her listening. The threads changed color as they spoke. Storm-dark pewter like the river before rain. Then thin as spider silk when someone whispered a name too sacred to hold long in daylight. “Now you.” I shut my eyes hard mosquitoes whining near my ears and prayed to whatever lived in water the quiet old saints who ride the backs of salmon. Then suddenly a net of words shivered into my hands. Wet rope smell. Knots tight as knuckles. Moonlight caught in every strand. “This one is yours,” they told me. “Now cast it.” So I stood there a skinny girl in borrowed boots and threw that net into the black breathing river. Again. Again. Months went by like that. Fingers raw from knotting stories. Rope burns in my palms. The net coming back empty silver dulling toward gray like old jewelry buried in river sand. Years passed. The river widened. I forgot the girl on the bank. Then one night my line ****** hard in the dark. rope heavy with distance and saw it threading through my own mesh gold. Not a glimmer not a trick of light. Your net had crossed mine somewhere far out where the current runs thick with shadow. Gold through silver. Silver through gold. The ropes crossing so often it became impossible to see where one ended. Some nights the river carried a sweetness ferment rising from the reeds thick enough to make the lantern flames dance. Some nights the current snapped and lunged dragging the mesh sideways until the rope burned my palms raw again Still the nets tangled deeper dragging strange glitter from the dark water stories bright as coins others sharp as broken glass. From the shore if grandmother had been watching she would only nod and keep weaving.
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79
Smoke and clouds Fire and rain You were here for a while And a good one at that Loss in time with great resolve The story written in silence For mother twice over divulge A world safe in warm kindness Distance negated in your heart In your hands a home always was For loves return from worlds apart And watered its flowering  buds The flower has wilted, and off the breeze blows But she has gone on to live forever In memory and grandkids, her face shows Not glancing nor abandoned endeavor Loss in time with great resolve Smoke and clouds for fire and rain A story written from your given all Its sweetness gives purpose to the pain
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Dec 19, 2025
Dec 19, 2025 at 7:48 AM UTC
Timeless Beauty
If these walls could talk, many stories will unfold, From the past, present and future, Is history being told!! Just look around and just see, The Vintage, and the quality, of how long things have lasted, To this day, is well kept beautifully!! A House that's of the old, a lineage, from way back when, for many generations have come and gone, that has so much history within!! If these walls could talk, they would tell you, about your ancestral, historical past, It is now passed down to your era, So, that your Ancestry will Last!! B.R. Date: 5/10/2025
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May 10, 2025
May 10, 2025 at 1:35 PM UTC
If these walls could talk
What lines, Scope and everbirth, dwell within corkscrewed graves Of my ancestors' passion projects?
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Nov 6, 2022
Nov 6, 2022 at 8:22 PM UTC
Lineage Curse
III. It took time for me to see That it was neither them nor me, but simply that She never stood a chance. For Her trunk in all Her unbridled glory, was bound in chains, choked out by debris Long before Them, or Us, or Me. At Her inception, before She could grow old, the last sip of Her sap stolen, drained, and sold.   Yet   Pieces of Her stand here to behold, pieces of Me, young joined with old. Though broken as We are, We’re a beacon of hope; We hold secrets and memories, stories and names, and one day I, too, will dance in Our shade.   Be it in vain, I will try till the wind comes for me; I’ll try to name Them, praise Them, to set Them free. I vow to nourish, to prune, and **** restore what I’m able, and take only what I need. To tie Our trunk to Our branches— and Our branches to Our leaves. To honor Our roots, ever trembling, in the deepest parts of Me.
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Feb 22, 2021
Feb 22, 2021 at 7:54 PM UTC
Descended
familial sea asteroid debris plagued black sun the chain undone derivation drought acetylene light burnt out sands of a surname run through veins as aspartame in departed sons & daughters blood is thicker than water but drains ever so faster
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May 16, 2020
May 16, 2020 at 8:53 AM UTC
Those of My Blood
Raised in this floating world, forever deep. You can’t drain the ocean Decidedly from down south of here You can’t un-trace the roots. You can’t lie and say, “This isn’t where I grew up” You can’t deny the fruits of what was planted two generations ago when your grandpatents arrived from the Philippines, seeds in tow soil for the taking You can’t confiscate what they claimed when they planted their flags into the moon-white sand of a beach in Florida on a far side of the planet their forefarthers have never seen You can’t say those flags weren’t there when wind came You can't ***** out that pride of country, cut off its native tongue and its acquired taste, or pass up the plate of fried lumpia and rice passed down from the kitchen of your Daddylol feeding seven kids day in and out with tomatoes he planted, chickens he raised, Malonggay leaves he grew with thumbs so green they wrote in the papers about it He was a farmer Your grandmother, a nurse And i was writer And this is our story You can’t erase the letters of your name, your lineage written all over it like a map of everywhere we been You can’t take back the words in Tagalog and Chavacano your Lola Shirley must have sang your mother to sleep with You can’t take their dreams You can't just wake up one day and undo the ripple effects their moves created across waters 10,000 miles east of here, the rolling waves they curled into or the faraway shores they washed up upon Bottled messages in hand Our legends held within You can’t say centuries from now that they won’t feel it when their feet hit the sand of their own frontier beside the waves we stayed making a history written in deep water for those who come after you to sail above and beyond.
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Nov 24, 2018
Nov 24, 2018 at 6:51 PM UTC
Going North
Raised in this floating world, forever deep. You can’t drain the ocean Decidedly from down south of here You can’t un-trace the roots. You can’t lie and say, “This isn’t where I grew up” You can’t deny the fruits of what was planted two generations ago when your grandpatents arrived from the Philippines, seeds in tow soil for the taking You can’t confiscate what they claimed when they planted their flags into the moon-white sand of a beach in Florida on a far side of the planet their forefarthers have never seen You can’t say those flags weren’t there when wind came You can't ***** out that pride of country, cut off its native tongue and its acquired taste, or pass up the plate of fried lumpia and rice passed down from the kitchen of your Daddylol feeding seven kids day in and out with tomatoes he planted, chickens he raised, Malonggay leaves he grew with thumbs so green they wrote in the papers about it He was a farmer Your grandmother, a nurse And i was writer And this is our story You can’t erase the letters of your name, your lineage written all over it like a map of everywhere we been You can’t take back the words in Tagalog and Chavacano your Lola Shirley must have sang your mother to sleep with You can’t take their dreams You can't just wake up one day and undo the ripple effects their moves created across waters 10,000 miles east of here, the rolling waves they curled into or the faraway shores they washed up upon Bottled messages in hand Our legends held within You can’t say centuries from now that they won’t feel it when their feet hit the sand of their own frontier beside the waves we stayed making a history written in deep water for those who come after you to sail above and beyond.
Continue reading...
51
Listen to the verbiage The quietness of a different nature The winds, the woods, the wildness I am not my father Though I am his son I am me And the past, the pretense That's who he is
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Nov 18, 2018
Nov 18, 2018 at 11:01 AM UTC
The Sound of Lineage
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.
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Aug 6, 2018
Aug 6, 2018 at 12:12 PM UTC
Linger
The son's eyes set low as green felt feigns grass stains. The son does not cry at the father's funeral. The son holds them in. He, the son, is now a rung higher and lower. Simultaneous promotions and disappearances. He is the last line. The son does all the planning. For the day of, the week next. The month's end, and the bills due. The son does all the fathering that the father has now left behind. He is now a caretaker. A husband to two wives, his, and his. The son and the father were not strong in their love. Not a single day. The son will find humility where once was cruelty. Where once was impulse he finds patience. Where once a sinner comes anew virtue. The son is now a house where once was a home. The son is now alone.
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Aug 4, 2018
Aug 4, 2018 at 2:42 AM UTC
Your Father's Son
An original creation, that's what  you are in vibrant colors nature carefully assembled, as you sashayed through your time,till here now all across the front page one can see you arousing  pleasure that moves me deeply, done in bold sweeps of a brush immersed in joy making onlookers stand agape, thrilled mumbling inanities as none has the grasp of the quicksilver aesthetics that rules you. And I, obscure , at the best like a crop circle done in the secret hours after midnight, or a cryptic mural on a dull wall, long past it's prime doodled by an interplanetary traveler gone astray, a drawing in grey fading slowly in to oblivion, yet to be deciphered is the benediction, it carries from light years far away, it will be gone soon as the light from galaxies far want to make it their own, little by little each night Am I not transient  and  to be forgotten soon? But you are steadfast and adamant very rooted in your reasoning sprung from a center devine, we both claim together.                          "Am I not a woman and lover first?" Your eyes, gleam, exuding  a timelessness that speaks to me. "I would only dream of lying naked under your sweet heaving heaviness, to receive the nectar, the transient ecstasy that gifts me the precious seed that'd grow to heights immortal,on the bank of the milky way"
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Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 11:37 AM UTC
Bound together to plant a tree eternal on the banks of the milky way
We draw them in sand, On sidewalks and crime scenes; We adore them on Granny, Abhor them on maps. On chalkboards, I will not... In Clubs, Don't I know you... In poems we can hear them Playing songs of I love you... A line is infinite, Yet begins with a dot; Those lines run right through us, Like it or not.
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May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 9:28 AM UTC
Lines
Being born of kings Doesn't mean you've got to be a king as well. You can be much better or much worse. Whatever seems good to you. Its your life. Live by your own wishes And live it king sized... Even if not as THE king. Because Not everyone wants to be the 'king' as the world defines it. Sometimes they just want to be a king who can rule their own life.
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Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 2:49 AM UTC
THE PRINCE
*I know who I am, But not who or what I was. Why can't I recall?*
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May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 6:35 PM UTC
Relay