read me...
If love is blind
then let my curves be your Braille
and feel this situation out…
then let my curves be your Braille
and feel this situation out…
you have a lot of reading to catch up on…
blind…
Tag Archives: poem fragments
a mess…
Random poem/musings I wrote a few weeks ago after seeing this on tumblr:
no really, i am.
sometimes i’m a little goofy
i’m a bit clumsy and i knock things over
and some days I cry for no reason when i’m happy
and some days i smile when i’m hurt
and i don’t say what i mean sometimes
i don’t mean what I say some days
sometimes i foget what i’m saying mid senstence
and sometimes i don’t really forget but i just lose the courage to say it
and some days I am a little too silly
so you can’t see that i’m sad
and sometimes I’m mean to people who love me
but i can admit that i’m wrong
i’m a mess
but you love me in spite of
or maybe because or
but for whatever reason,
remember that sometimes i forget to say thank you.
made me think of one of my favorite songs by Alanis Morisette: “Everything”…
My book of rhymes…
sigh...
I sat down today and started to attempt to do some writing. I drew a blank. So I decided to look through some of my old journals and pull out some “poem fragments” and make them whole. Well, that didn’t work either. It kind of put me in the mind of a Nas song titled “My Book of Rhymes” where he just makes a whole song of random entries in his rhyme book. So I decided on my blog today I will share some of the random fragments I found and post the song at the end. Enjoy (or not, lol):
from www.savagechickens.com ... funny stuff.
An indecent proposal
The huge rock you hand me resembles your heart
hard
cold
but shiny to the world
Intending to buy my love with fancy pebbles
As if your ring… rings true.
In this life
I feel like I am just passing through
Like all that used to matter
Matters no more
Some days I feel like I should end it all
Thinking no one will miss me
But I am even too scared to do that
Unfunny how that works
Life is strange that way
Death is too.
Stand up and be counted
Or sit down and be surmounted
Your story is worth being recounted
I stepped left from West Africa and right to the 13 colonies
Never missing a beat
My hips moved like the Diaspora to the sound of talking drums
Drowning out the crash of thunderous waves on the sides of slave ships
My hips can move the world clock forward
Inspire revolution
Each movement amended the Constitution
To make you a whole man.
I’m not mad anymore about what I’m going through
Just glad that I am going
Sometimes it just hurts when you are growing
So I will attack this situation like a stage… and GO IN!
stripped… [updated]
A snippet of a much longer very personal piece I am working on… feedback is appreciated…. [originally posted 9-21-10 will continue updating until “finished.” Bold lines are the latest updates]
stripped bare....
we have fucked without guilt
without enjoyment
with pain and pleasure
….and of course
the regrets.
the bruises of men’s kisses has stained our skin
like red Kool-Aid
fucking is something that has guided us gently to that stage
in ghastly makeup
a calculated touch
lascivious glares
blocked our growth as humans
turned us in reverse
so the longer we stayed in the biz
the faster we wanted to regress into babies
crying in our mother’s arms.
futile wishes for a return to innocence.
return to the arms of mother’s who hate us now
because they see their failure in our eyes
looking for non existent validation
leaning on imaginary shoulders
wondering why we hit the ground each time
well it’s hard to see reality through blackened third eyes
swollen from life’s hard knocks
so we continue to stumble blindly through this maze
littered with deferred dreams and potential
going in circles…
around hope.
around greatness.
around poles.
Phobias… fragments
I am working on a new piece and I thought I would make this one of those pieces that you can see the progression of the poem. So as I write this poem I will post when I come up with new parts to it. I have done this before with a poem called “Scary at Me” last year. Below will be the beginning, and I would love if you would follow it from its infancy to its completion:
Hold up hold up, let me guess…
It’s you not me…
No no no wait, is it you aren’t ready…
Hold up wait… I know!
You’re scared…
Oh, excuse my side-eye… it is vicious.
Well apparently you must be aerophobic, yeah, fear of wind
because the winds of change apparently have you scared shitless
No, maybe you are acrophobic, you know afraid of heights
And to come to my level and stay there must be hell on your anxiety
I understand.
I know your agoraphobia keeps you inside that little box you huddle and cower in.
Or maybe you suffer from Anablephobia – fear of looking up. Only way I can explain you putting me up on a pedestal and then walking away