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Kimberly Sep 2018
when you make friendship bracelets
it symbolizes something
between you and them
it means you're willing
to sit down and
tie a million **** knots
with thin, tiny
pieces of floss
doing nothing else
hour after hour
except knotting the strings
it's an act of love & power
so that you will create
something beautiful
in hopes that they
will do the same
i might do a part two idk
Mon Immortelle, mes aïeux !
Comme tu es appétissante !
Je n'en crois pas mes yeux !
J'ai agrandi ta photo jusqu'à ce qu'elle crève l 'écran.
J 'aurais pu t'embrasser si je l 'avais voulu,
Tellement tu étais proche, magnifiée !
Mais je me suis retenu
et j 'ai décidé de détourner le regard de ta chair et de me concentrer sur les accessoires
car le risque d'atteindre une illumination visuelle à distance aurait été grand
si j 'avais seulement pris le temps de m'attarder
Une demi-seconde sur le lac de tes yeux profonds
et la moue sur tes lèvres couleur aubergine
Je me suis donc consacré exclusivement à l 'examen minutieux,
Détail après détail,  
de tes accessoires, de tes épices.
Oh ne m'en veux pas
Si ce n 'était pas toi, la déesse, que je regardais défiler
Sur l 'écran à vitesse lente chevauchant une tigresse blanche
Mais tes accessoires
Et tes accessoires en disent long sur ton essentiel !
Ce sont des accessoires magiques, physiques, magnétiques, chimiques
Un simple verre de vin de letchi devient entre tes doigts du divin jus de jade
Tes boucles d'oreille et ton collier  d'argent assorti d'une fleur blanche odorante majestueuse!
Jasmin ? Frangipanier ? Rose ? Orchidée ? Lotus ? Dis moi !
Tes bagues dorées au majeur et à l 'annulaire, main droite comme main gauche, deux par main
Des fleurs, encore des boutons de fleurs !
De veuvage ? De mariage ? De fiançailles ?
Tes deux bracelets  d'argent au poignet gauche
Sans oublier ta robe bleue imprimée à fleurs
Et tes mocassins bleus assortis.
Et ton pantalon blanc bien évidemment !
Laissons de côté ce sublime rouge à lèvres couleur aubergine !
Bref j 'ai passé en ***** tout ce qui t'enlumine et t'illumine
Sans être toi tout en étant toi.
Comme ton sac en bandoulière et ce verre de vin de letchi ou de jade que tu presses entre tes doigts.
Tes accessoires sont la voie royale vers ton essentiel !
Et je sais désormais que tu es fleur caméléon,
Je sais les couleurs de ta quintessence :
Tigresse de jade blanc aux oreilles et au cou
Dorée au bout des doigts
et marron et blanche sur fond bleu,
Toute de lianes et feuilles et clochettes
Toute fleurs de  safran, gingembre, curcuma
Piment, tamarin et cannelle
Des épaules aux cuisses !
Me voilà bien avancé, n 'est-ce pas, ma fleur,
Dragon de jade, sur ton chemin de Compostelle ! ?
liza Feb 2016
sitting in the dark, chewing on my cheeks. My ankle bracelets don’t come off and they're still wet from the tub
she used to braid my curls before bed

driving on the interstate with my back windows rolled down. The front ones wont budge
she would hold my phone with the maps up, “get off on the next exit”

Id come home to fiery curls every night; i still do. Except they're mine and they smell like smoke instead of coconut shampoo
things change but not a whole lot ya know
MJL Feb 16
Our cupped whispers
Our blanket fort
Our candy bracelets
Our secret shh
Our tiny giggles
Our childish valentine
Time agnostic

© 2019 MJL
Arden Dec 2018
People who self harm
Aren't always teenagers
Who listen to heavy rock
And dress in black
And wear dark eyeliner with smudgy lines
They're not always people who drink beer
And smoke ***
And make mistakes

People who self harm
Are always smiling
Always happy
They are on the honor roll
And they place sports
And date cute boys
And wear lots of thick bracelets
And long sleeves
Because inside, they feel just as empty
As the kids with smudgy eyeliner
Wangui Jun 2017
I wear beads and  African bracelets for beauty. I forget why the people before me wore them. I wear them with pride not because I earned them but because I simply look beautiful. Beautiful!? What does that even mean? My Nana has scars on her body. She shows them to me with pride. Narrates stories of the war in the past like an action movie only she didn't have a gun only bows and poisonous arrows. The missing teeth in her mouth causes her to spit almost every second she talks. But this embarrassment is only felt by me. She is proud of the hole in her mouth. Suddenly I feel the urge to remove my African beads. They have no meaning only that they are African and I am and so am entitled. But I have done nothing for my heritage. Not even fight for it. Slowly it's being forgotten and people are crossing over without a care in the world. 'To civilisation' we say.  'For the good of the people' we say. But is it? We were a community wrong as we were to circumcise women, marry them off at an early age, burn the wrong... We were a community. We loved each other. We cared. We taught our children how to feel and be the earth. We taught our children to respect the earth and in return the earth blesses us with herbs to cure. What did they call it? Aaah yes 'witchcraft'. We were not animals who forget their children in  pit latrines or by the river side just because we cannot afford them or don't want them. We cared not of individualism because together we grew in spirit, body and soul. It was not backward it was culture. And culture is flexible. It can change but can never be terminated. It is not a shoe that when you grow out of  you throw and buy another.
And so I am not telling you to go back to your roots because if am quite honest you were never in it. Rather embrace it. See how 'civilised' you will feel then.

The Red_Head
zebra Feb 2018
she likes to dance in cemeteries naked
warring little but jeweled ***** bells,
ankle bracelets
toe rings
bingles, bangles, piercings,
through ******* and nose

her tongue split
each side wiggling independently

she gives head on a head stone
her blow jobs
like two undulating mouths
her skin inked with
black and blood tattoos that say
Satan's little ***** *****
double penetrations preferred porfavor
the more buttery big ***** and pastry puffy ******* the better

all purple hair tinged red
and antler horned hat
with silver toe and finger nails
a crazy saint sane
adored by the popes of the lascivious
eyes wide open over a crimson mouth sneer
cherry pout lips
gods gift to ***** and vaginas
a temple of relief exalting
a **** it bucket list of lust
her heart
cotton candy in flames
****** like a river of smashed potatoes
in cream

she like
phases of a corpse moon
begs to be used after death
like pigment on canvas
smeared red globes and chiaroscuro
she playing dead
living it up

do you know her
she keeps her secret hidden
on her sleeve
while you keep yours
from yourself

bless me father for I have sinned
and loved every minute of it
yet dare not be happy
for fear of Gods rage

my soul saved
turned fertile earth to sand
and shrouding vistas of light
till the bed is the bed
of the living dead
so there's nothin left but work and sleep
and dreams of drunken **** madness are buried
under the weight
marked forbidden

black sun curse
hips sway in ashes
a forbidden dance
tmh Dec 2015
Why were our friendship bracelets the only ones that bleed
Harley Apr 2018
Is that a cut?
No, it’s just a scratch.
Okay, then what's that mark?
I told you before, it was just my cat.
Is this always your excuse?
Is this always your lie?
What’s with all the new bracelets you’re wearing outside?
Calm down, it’s just fashion. I'm not gonna die.
Is that a tear, did I just hear you scream?
Why are you crying?
Sorry, it’s not my fault I just had a bad dream.
You may not believe but she’ll never come clean.
excuses, excuses are all that she needs.
It's not just the cat, It’s not a sense of fashion.
She got all caught all up in this and now she’s starting to fall in.
She made you a promise and said never again, never again.
But what will she say when it’s finally the end?
She went and cut too far, now she’s left here to cry and weep
You walk into the room and fall down to your feet.
She's gone, she's gone. That's all you can say.
You sit here, blaming yourself wishing you could have made her stay.
You love her, you love her. That's all she wanted you to say
But now she’s gone because of all she could do each and every day
Cut. cut. Cut.
When love calls you
You complain
Strained and straight to bed
We forget the end
It's a random affair
We often end up in
If you lend me your mouth
I’ll keep it close at hand
And if you’re ever down south
I’ll show you the promised land
Your heart is the church
I alone worship in the sand
Your eyes are worth
A thousand emeralds
Gold and silver bracelets and bangles
Held up against your makeup
We can no longer fake it
So we take it home
With us instead
Lyn-Purcell Sep 2018

Spring, how gracious is your name,
full of light and life and colour.
Songbirds in their woodland nests
emerge and sing, feeding their
chicks or teaching them to fly
The coat of white has become a
soft, healthy green.
At the sound of her sweet laugh,
swallowtails, each a shade of
a rainbow, flutter around her and
into the distant glades.
Her olive skin drinks in the gentle
sunlight, her pink silks ***** around
her small ******* and hips, her
bare feet crushing the grass.
She twirls, her arms outstretched.
With the jingle of her bracelets,
a warm breeze passes.
A flick of her brown curls,
flowers burst into the bloom
from the earth, filling the air
with their sweetness.
A snap of her slender fingers,
the clouds split in two and
with her gaze from her emerald
eyes, there is no discord;
harmony in the air.
Harmony everywhere...
'Hear me, Sisters,' she chimes,
'Hear it all, hear the cheer of Spring!'

Enjoy the song of Spring!
One more season to go now! ^-^
Lyn ***
Lisa May 2018
Don’t listen to them when they say **** won’t ******* up.
Don’t listen to that stupid tove lo song and think it’s meant for you.
Google long term depotentiation and get back to me.
While you’re at it, bring all those memories I lost back to me too.

I can remember the time on the mountain, numerous hotel stays, your fish sheets, your bedroom, your socks, your bracelets.

I wish I could forget the time I had to call an ambulance, your parents, and mine.
I can recall the time security was called, my window banging, how my hand stung, and you promising it wasn’t when it obviously was.

I can remember the first time we said it, and maybe the last time we meant it in my backyard.
It’s almost as if you knew right then you were going to **** it all up.
I can’t imagine why else you cried so hard.
Dark n Beautiful Aug 2018
Narrative Reportage for 8/2/2018

Home is the word we love to hear:
The dreams are never over,
They are always a break through: after the tears:
An x is lodge in our heads was it the,
rock, a tree, or the hidden board,
Time welt serve: time to cash in
Time uproot the rocks
that tree and those loose boards
would this be a happy ending?

You had choose the life of crime
The crime didn’t nail itself
Every day a black man
Under the age of twenty
Pulls the trigger, they turned off the light
He longs to return to his mother womb:
I see the love of their mothers
While she holds their hands at age three
at age twenty three I see the replacement :
the chrome bracelets: the resentment
Neflex the new society wants us to believe that orange is the new black:
“Our ancestors have invented, we can at least innovate.”
― Amit Kalantri

**“Oh Child
Look within
Find your ForeMothers
Find them
Find them”
― Malebo Sephodi
kB 2 Mar 11
I hear you crying, darling
Pillow stained with tepid tears
I’ve spoken many ‘sorries’,
wordy weights for fragile ears

Youth abducted by this mess
Rehearsed faces to survive
Reddened bracelets to impress
demons comfortable inside

Promises prove hard to hold;
heavy burdens, arms grow weak
Taken by a mind so bold:
Vocal chords go mute to speak

Falling down while growing up,
never takes the easy way
Grave tightrope she stands atop,
tends to fall one way each day

Balancing while punching ghosts,
falls the wrong way off this rope
Rest is best, stay numbly dosed
Darling, sleep and dream of hope

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