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Sharde' Fultz Mar 2017
Ill go Stacey Dash on you
Blastin you
Actin like my daddy ain't black
Attackin You
With these alternative facts
Hate the "fake news"
So I can fool wypipo into havin ME on they team
Low self esteem has made me green with envy for the machine
There's no in between
I don't support you
I hate your black support groups
Why don't you just pull YOURself up
By YOUR bootstraps while I deport you
Cause I'll resort to a white face
And paint my own race
As lame
My claim to fame
Clueless
To the truth
I Maintain this
Self-hate
My lips stay lyin' through my tooths
I don't mind being their puppet
Long as they keep my noose loose

"As If" -Sharde' Fultz 3.2.17
Sharde' Fultz Aug 2014
The haunting “hoom!” of the wind flying past my window
A wingless friend that flies above as we shuffle cold sidewalks below
The old knees of stiff trees desist against this chilled yoga forced upon them
Carries the scent of cool December I’ve come to know
And love because I can’t help but to reminisce
On all the memories of childhood bliss
The snowball fights; winter breaks, best friends, holidays but sometimes most of all the naïve ignorance.
Because now we just know so friggin’ much, am I right?
We’re consumed by the responsibilities of maturity and pride.
We must accomplish things as small as sharing a smile with a stranger and as large as the quest for self-actualization
When it’s cold like this and I’m sitting under my lamp bundled thoughts
-swerving
Letting the dim glow of the bulb wash over my arms and dissipate to the shadows and corners of my room
Muzak for my thoughts in the wind’s sporadic “hoommm!”
I find it in the least bit
unnerving
I exhale and release
-delayed-gratification
We’ve just learned the infinite diminutive time span of Christmas vacation
But for a second I’m little clumsy Sharde’ again
Making snowballs ‘till my fingertips are
burning                                                                                       1:07am 12.13.2010
Sharde' Fultz Aug 2014
Here's a poem that I wrote the other night at late o'clock while working my usual midnight shift. Personally I think this is one of my best pieces because I usually don't write stuff like this, I call it "sappy" haha but thats just because I'm such a boy sometimes. Anyway, I like this because I'm a little less inhibited in this piece and you guys get to catch me being girlie. Hope ya like it.

I WANT LOVE. I want late o'clock conversing that leads into morning. I want your aspirations to become ours. I want to lay in the security of strong arms and broad shoulders.
I want good days and bad days and great days and drama and I want love.Love thats deep and blue with strings and knots and ropes and braids and faith and trust, you know?
I want my own key for cloud nine.
I want love recursive because it's too close to perfect not to do it again.skin meeting skin.
hands meeting hips
Lips meeting lips feet in the air and locs in the wind.
Love that embraces what I embrace and you embrace and the differences between them.
I want to study the map in the palm of your hands and follow it and create new destinations. I want the painting we'll create when our complexions are twisted together, then another and another.
I want altruism, recklessness, spontaneity, pure concentrated freshly squeezed love with extra pulp.
And I think 'pulp' is an ugly word but I want love so good that I just might wake up one morning and write a song for pulp because all o'sudden everything's beautiful.
I WANT prayed-up non-perverted divine order love.
Love that ascends and evolves; that challenges scientists, intrigues mathematicians, and inspires artists. I want love, and as far as I'm concerned that is the only way it comes.
Sharde' Fultz 3:56 am Aug.31 @wk
Danielle B Jun 2014
Trust is like a glass
Perched on the edge of a table
Some people will push it farther on
Others will knock it off
And it will shatter opon the floor
If you choose to pick up the pieces
It will be painful, each sharde will leave a scar
But the glass can be put back together
Though it will take time
Once mended it will be hard to keep the glass on the table
But with care you can
The glass can be fixed, trust can be reformed
But both will leave scars

— The End —