Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
#unified
seeding eternity the living and the dead a unified pathway of love.
0
May 4
May 4, 2026 at 5:50 AM UTC
of love
I am going to pluck that illuminated corner of the night sky and graft it to my palm. I am sorry, precious sky, that we have been so distant for so long.
0
Sep 11, 2023
Sep 11, 2023 at 4:51 AM UTC
Phoibos
Infinity curls on and in itself, opposing motions continue to spin. We're drawn upon to observe the urges of others in ourselves. Waves unseen through idle eyes, stillness mounts to moments of uttering. When the sirens sing amongst us translucent strings pull from within. Propelled through unified switches, laws of enchanted lure are felt. Reflected thoughts enforce or repel, concluded no ends over again.
0
May 30, 2021
May 30, 2021 at 4:30 PM UTC
Magnetism
Boundless is the darkness that blankets our consciousness, Infinite is our desire which lies hidden in our whispers, Empty are our hearts at sunrise, A forsaken encounter for memories unified.
0
Apr 9, 2021
Apr 9, 2021 at 8:46 PM UTC
Boundless
Subtle breeze Blowing trees As we lay here Eyes turned up Broken hearts Fall apart As we lay here Hands locked together Energy electrifies Breathing intensifies As we lay here Lips trace each other Needing you Needing me As we lay here One together Moving bodies Shattered hobbies As we are here Forever Torment me Torment you As we lay here No longer one All alone Next to me You disappear With the breeze Into the trees
0
Nov 8, 2019
Nov 8, 2019 at 6:47 AM UTC
As We Lay Here
I. There exists only the Fractal. II. The Fractal contains itself. III. Everything else is derived.
0
Dec 11, 2017
Dec 11, 2017 at 5:50 PM UTC
The Fractal
It is the ink propelled with mold and feces, And the grandeur of dogma littered with arrogance. The persistent deconstruction of ideals covered with dust, and yet it screams openly to the audience of deaf. Forbidding irk come with forbidden shadows beyond it's own screech, And the scatching of the chalkboard has friendlier tone than unoriginal scribes of embellishments. The act of taken lives from people who do not deverse your pardon need not be your tropies, For those actions of hate deserve no love or pity. For this is the land of united people of places and hope, For you can not divide us with words, Or sword upon freedom. The vigilant light shall warm us, Your hate will only fuel us, You shall never silence us. For we shall live for the dead, And their memories will not be forgotten. We will defeat your hate with our compassion, And we will prevail where you so sought to undo, For love will defeat your prideful destruction. Say good bye to your yesterday, For no song of your will be heard but in the mist of ocean, And our choir will muddle your preformance. For your last act stood as an epilogue, And ours has become the prologue. Have you truly succeeded? I think our cheers shall resonate the true answer.
0
Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 11:57 PM UTC
A Triumph in Adversity.
“Decolonize your mind before you become a new black slave.” He whispered to me before pushing one of his dreads behind his ear and grinning wildly at my perplexed expression. I lowered the straightener and stared at him for a while – I had loved him because of the way he was self-assured, it never faltered and I knew an explanation would follow as I leaned forward, raising an eyebrow, questioning him. “You know you’re a queen right?” He continued, interrupting my train of thought, while turning off the straightener at the plug point. “Ja, I know.” I answered blatantly. “ Then decolonize your mind.” He shouted before thrusting his hands into the sky and exiting my room. I think he knew I would figure it out for myself because as I stared at the straightener on my desk- it clicked. The statement vibrated in the very depths of my soul and an untapped reserve of energy was suddenly channelled into my aura. I could feel my ancestors, I could hear their cries, I could feel the weight of shackles, I could feel a whip, I could feel resentment, I could feel hatred, I could feel the power of a God who didn’t look like me, I could feel my peoples names that were written out of history books, I could taste blood in my mouth, I could feel blood on the cotton, I could feel what it meant to be black. It was an epiphany, induced both by drink as well as the stench of my burnt hair. The epiphany spoke to me, reminding me that who I am was holy. That black was undeniably beautiful and not in the clichéd way that I learnt of in history when people averted their eyes, avoiding discomfort presented in an unacknowledged truth. It was in earnest, that I realised that my melanin was paramount to a glorious dynasty that I was privileged enough to be a part of. I would wear my ancestry daily and no longer shy away from the truth of my being. I am sun kissed, I am regal, I am Cleopatra, I am King Shaka, I am the soil and the trees and everything that matters in this universe, I am a closed fist lifted in a rally where mercy has intersected rage, resulting in non-violence. The only violence that is accepted is that which vehemently opposes the status quo that my people are not good enough. That is what was meant when he told me to decolonize my mind. “ You will be villianized in your pursuit for emancipation because the margin of melanin present in our people will always render you a slave so choose now what you will subscribe to. “ and I made a decision, standing upon the raw backs of my ancestors- I chose a discarded truth and the truth is this- I am art. We, are art and art cannot be subjugated or castrated by a close minded agenda, set by people who have never bothered to understand you nor will they ever begin to. I am a poem that breathes and speaks and therefor has no choice but to be remembered. I will be etched into the minds of people who would rather forget me. I will be written down in history books next to men who would rather deny my existence. In that moment, in my epiphany, I began to wade barefoot through my soul. I began to find pieces of myself I didn’t know where lost – and is that not courage in itself? Finding the corpse of your soul, buried beneath a cruel, mercilessly pale agenda? Is speaking the truth not brave? So I set down the straightener, and began to live.
0
Sep 27, 2015
Sep 27, 2015 at 6:46 AM UTC
Decolonize your mind
“Decolonize your mind before you become a new black slave.” He whispered to me before pushing one of his dreads behind his ear and grinning wildly at my perplexed expression. I lowered the straightener and stared at him for a while – I had loved him because of the way he was self-assured, it never faltered and I knew an explanation would follow as I leaned forward, raising an eyebrow, questioning him. “You know you’re a queen right?” He continued, interrupting my train of thought, while turning off the straightener at the plug point. “Ja, I know.” I answered blatantly. “ Then decolonize your mind.” He shouted before thrusting his hands into the sky and exiting my room. I think he knew I would figure it out for myself because as I stared at the straightener on my desk- it clicked. The statement vibrated in the very depths of my soul and an untapped reserve of energy was suddenly channelled into my aura. I could feel my ancestors, I could hear their cries, I could feel the weight of shackles, I could feel a whip, I could feel resentment, I could feel hatred, I could feel the power of a God who didn’t look like me, I could feel my peoples names that were written out of history books, I could taste blood in my mouth, I could feel blood on the cotton, I could feel what it meant to be black. It was an epiphany, induced both by drink as well as the stench of my burnt hair. The epiphany spoke to me, reminding me that who I am was holy. That black was undeniably beautiful and not in the clichéd way that I learnt of in history when people averted their eyes, avoiding discomfort presented in an unacknowledged truth. It was in earnest, that I realised that my melanin was paramount to a glorious dynasty that I was privileged enough to be a part of. I would wear my ancestry daily and no longer shy away from the truth of my being. I am sun kissed, I am regal, I am Cleopatra, I am King Shaka, I am the soil and the trees and everything that matters in this universe, I am a closed fist lifted in a rally where mercy has intersected rage, resulting in non-violence. The only violence that is accepted is that which vehemently opposes the status quo that my people are not good enough. That is what was meant when he told me to decolonize my mind. “ You will be villianized in your pursuit for emancipation because the margin of melanin present in our people will always render you a slave so choose now what you will subscribe to. “ and I made a decision, standing upon the raw backs of my ancestors- I chose a discarded truth and the truth is this- I am art. We, are art and art cannot be subjugated or castrated by a close minded agenda, set by people who have never bothered to understand you nor will they ever begin to. I am a poem that breathes and speaks and therefor has no choice but to be remembered. I will be etched into the minds of people who would rather forget me. I will be written down in history books next to men who would rather deny my existence. In that moment, in my epiphany, I began to wade barefoot through my soul. I began to find pieces of myself I didn’t know where lost – and is that not courage in itself? Finding the corpse of your soul, buried beneath a cruel, mercilessly pale agenda? Is speaking the truth not brave? So I set down the straightener, and began to live.
Continue reading...
12
Birthed at the center of my soul You are my very heart You are the seed of compassion And the water with which it blooms Birthed at the center of my soul You open the window of joy And close the doors tinged blue A teacher of spirits, of freedom Birthed at the center of my soul Your kindness bleeds into me Saturating my casing Rendering me tender, despite myself Birthed at the center of my soul We became...as intended Entire beings Flowing between a unified spirit Connected now as then Birthed at the center of my soul
0
Jun 29, 2015
Jun 29, 2015 at 11:34 PM UTC
Ab Intus (from within)