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Maman Screams Jan 2014
I've been writing of hopes and dreams
Seeking happiness from this life takings
Who is it meant for you're wondering
Is it for me or for the general viewing
Or am I reaching out too short within
Till you forget your very own living

I'm a fool fulfilling inquest of a portrayer
Illusions to soothe the eye of the betrayer
Creating encryptions lock to every scribbles
Even a space I can spare no farther

Lets just **** this rhythm and blues
Death is inevitably thats what i conclude
Now let me make this clear and true
Only through my poems you'll find the clues

But don't be mad if you get confused
For we are twins alike I hint you
Maybe through my riddles you'll produced
Or you could just give up its your calling too
For the end of the day eventually you will
Spent your nights stuck on your own puzzle too

©2014 Maman Screams
jeffrey conyers Aug 2016
Too complain, is legit?
But to not change the subject and image seen.
Then you a participant.

Message to the black male youth that decides a life of crime.
What?
Is your purpose?
If you're gang driven than you a fool in the making.
Living a life of danger.

Don't blame the system when you are arrested.
Or the police when you get killed and family's pondering why?

Or , now you a prisoner during time.
Trying to blame others for your life's mistakes.
You made this life of yours a negative.

Oh, the news always portraying us in a negative way.
Well, black male youth stop being a participate to the news story.

Yeah, other groups rob/steal/**** too.
But constantly during a day or week , it's your image seen.

Maybe, we should make laws putting parents on the spot.
Explain, where your child went wrong?
Breaks, are giving by the system to those deserving not to be returning.

But then?
You always got a fool that lives to be a slave to the system.

Shame, that some oddities loves to defend those that robs to support the family.
When determination gets you employed and stay hired.

So if you hate your portrait upon the news.
Start changing it.
Kay-Rosa Mar 2019
I say  
‘Marguerite Johnson’
and you don’t know.
Who she really was, what  
She really did.

Maya, a childhood nickname turned professional
Angelopulos, past other, Greek and unknown.

She was a poet, a woman of many
words that changed America.
Words that touched our hearts,
Words that opened our eyes
to truth.

She was an actress, in the Obie-winning “The Blacks”,
Off-Broadway, “Calypso Heat Wave”, inspiring her singer.

She was a singer, writer of song.  
West Coast and
Hawaiian nightclubs were once
Embellished by her voice.

She was a dancer, a portrayer of emotion, through movements
Rhythmic and graceful
Calm, phantasmagoric, and beautiful.

She was an author.
She knew why,  
“The Caged Bird” sang.
But, once. She had no voice.

Traumatized and scared. Age seven, suffered at the hands of the distant mother’s boyfriend.
She went mute,
feeling responsible for their crime,

After her uncles rid the world of the problem.  
A candle’s flame blown out.
Mrs.
Flowers

A friend and fellow lover of the spoken word.
Helped Maya find her voice.
Introduced Hughes,
Du Bois, and Lawrence Dunbar.

Then, the canonical Shakespeare,  
Dickens, Poe.

She was a scholar.
She was a mother.  
She was a fighter.

She stood for her rights and the rights of her people.
She stood, side by side, with many known and recognized.
Malcom X.
Martin Luther King Jr.
His assassination on her birthday stopped the celebration forever.

Then she sent flowers to Coretta until her death in 2006.
She was an inspiration.  

I say
“Maya Angelou”
And now you know.
can try to capture beauty,
try to capture expression--
yet as an artist, never satisfied.

i want to do more than catch your likeness on paper
with pen or graphite, desire more than just a role as an avid watcher and portrayer.

i want to learn the hard planes of your body
the ways they could move in junction with mine,
hands with such strength and virility. there is an urge
to bring those fingers to my mouth, or a lone earlobe.

bite down. sharp inhale. that's music.

i want to know the shapes you make, the way a body looks glistened in hard work, trace the indentions in a spine, be familiar with its knobby structure, kindly measure the quiet strength of muscles, the contours of a figure that is a reflection of its environment.

feeling. quiet feeling.

i want to look and really look, study the proportions of smiles, the simplicity in wrinkles and the path of veins, gentle lines that nature already drew for me. especially observations of lines in your eyes. what is your gaze drawn to. don't tell me, show me.

let me understand a deep look. stare at me. let me stare at you.

i just want to draw on you--
human skin is my canvas,
eyes are inspiration,
raw souls are my
new medium,
and
passion is my paint brush.

can i sketch you, love?
*sighs dreamily*
Kenneth Fox Sep 2011
V
go ahead,
the seams are starting to rip.


aren't you going to take another bite of this stone?
start devouring away before it heals to the bone.


I felt peace,
I felt the pain,
so keep your persistence.


I've got nowhere to run or shelter.


not like I didn't ask for you,
but you know this feels like burning,
like someone took my heart and left it over the flame.


that someone is you.


you portrayer of heartache and love.


the entity that promises the scorn of a thousand looking people.


and they're all shaking their heads,
pounding their fists in the air,
chanting for the teeth to tear at the threads.


burn him at the stake for he withholds forbidden love in his chest.


and you happily put your lips to kiss the veins.


I held myself in place,
clenching my teeth as my life drained into your mouth.


then you left me empty and breathing.


I closed my eyes to let the bliss flow through arteries tracing to lifeless organs,
and in that moment of peace I finally realized how many times over I'd give myself to you
alavandala Mar 2014
to kindle the flame of fear is a most prominent endeavor
one is never ready, never willing but always doing so without regard for the
   consequence
what a wondrous weight
an unfathomable burden
a dignity never dignified
at least, to the portrayer
fear
which plunders the familiar darkness
hangs hope from the tallest tree
solicits the soul until suddenly, soddenly it becomes
magnificently maneuvered, a true feat
leaving no time to act
to question what is being done
the fury of such force
inescapable
unable to be transcended by will,
one must endure the totality
until the fire has retreated,
the light extinguished, smoke cleared
and one can breathe easily again
AKILAN Sep 2017
Started out crying from the womb
Gifted the giver with utmost harm
Grew in the shell of a family's cover
Getting everything at the right time and perfect flavour
Mom,Dad,Brother there goes the sentiment
Still expecting no reciprocating commitment
Seemed unsatisfied and discontent
Life had no meaning and no defined content
Inner self advised you go your path
Portrayer concluded the society might judge you filth
Love money time and fame
No way to go and whose to blame




- a wanderer's musing

— The End —