It was either the scissors or the bottle of bleach.
I chose the scissors and it turned into a form of liberation. An emancipation day significant freedom.
It was more than letting the hair go but a shedding of the shackled weight, which was slowly suffocating.
My nostrils of life are slowly allowing in oxygen. Thumbelina is pushing through.
I do not know why I bother you when are unbothered to respond.
I do not know why my behaviour is foolish when it comes to you.
When will I learn to careless when you you hardly care more?
When will I learn to stay away, the hell away!
I appreciate, appraise and applaud you for your substance, substituting the flight mode
to stay close.
I encourage you to speak when that peak of words reaches a tone of noise, which whispers to you to “end it because no one cares.”
I care, I hold your opinions in high heights of regard, please do not run away on a flight of no return.
I celebrate you man, manners of awesome autumnal wisdom. I listen to your tales with tears wondering why all of us failed to uplift.
Step away from that cliff. You are a gift, shift to the side and see that your boy is listening.
I wrote this short Free Verse Poem in honour of International Mens Day. To find more about the day honoring men please go to http://www.internationalmensday.com/.
One body we have so we must
Nuture that essence that make us.
Entertain no thoughts to pollute our
Being, our core.
Organs needs care constantly.
Do not drown with added sugars.
Yearn not for the constant sugary snacks, it is a fight that we must beat.
On International Diabetes Day, I did ponder extra on my chooses of food.
Naturally if my body is my house, I should keep it clean in
Everyway. Not just in grooming but
Limiting the types of drinks and solids I let travel to my work machine.
Invite no toxins by deliberately over consuming too much natural and package sugar.
Fight for your home.
Encourage your body to feel good.
in someone’s life.
Stop the bullying.
Smile big to a sad face
and speak a kind word always.
Give food or clothes if you can please,
it will warm someone’s heart and tummy.
The world changes when we help someone else.
The poetry form, Etheree, consists of 10 lines of 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 syllables. Etheree can also be reversed and written 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Get creative and write an Etheree with more than one verse, but follow suit with an inverted syllable count.
What do you do when you HATE your job but you cannot quit because you need to eat? The job pays your bills and saves your independence. To resign means to redesign my aims to always work. What do you do when the economy is so jacked up, that you feel blessed even with a hacked up job because there are several persons with no work yet a family to feed. However, you have those emotional battles everyday that devotionals cannot help to wake an excitement to seize the bull by the horn, contributing towards society. Sitting at a desk and literally feeling brain cells dying because you are sighing over completed tasks in an hour and you wonder what madness that included you in such disarray. A foray of persons having the time of their life, thieving from my complete tasks. Yet no one in management says a word but when I voice that absurd rate at which the work reaches me, I am deemed as uncooperative.
What the fuck I am doing with my life?
Chagrin highlighted your heightened voice
Hinged on blundering insults my way.
A girl I figured you never knew prior to June 30th.
Nevertheless every fool would know when that displeasure veiled in mockery,
Glistening with anger is directed their way.
Erroneous thought I; What have I
Done to them but alas I understand. I
Changed my curtains. I
Usurped their privilege of watching through my windows. I
Rigged one of
Their sources of sorcery
Angering them enough to hail insults my way.
Idiotic thinking on their part but at least I
Notified another neighbor of their crafty, disgusting practice. Now they
Sneer and hiss like the serpent in Eden.
See how the eagle soar so high in flight, a majestic sight for all in the heavens and soil beneath? One day I will release that toil in my heart with such ease and not with a sigh.The way I allowed you to slip into my blood like vicious lustful red blood cells was anemic danger. For one who hardly drinks I was ready to sip on our conversations which were always so red winery deep.You fed an insatiable hunger that hang like a parasitic creature sucking more and more. I love that feeling of comfort I felt around you which especially came from an intellectual simulation which surrounds my passion. Just like Jojo “I am a sucker for a guy with a beautiful mind,” the mind you dutifully pluck under layers of protection. Yet I saw it and so began my journey into heartbreak. I am bait to you, reeling your line at convenient times to keep me netted.
I like feeling cold but cuddling in bed watching Youtube.
I like reading romance set in a historical phrase.
I like kitkat bars.
I like love coconut water.
I like my hair when it cooperates.
I like that fresh feeling after a shower.
I like when it rains heavy when I am indoors.
I like watching waterfalls.
I like dimple smile, I just do.
I like holding moving conversations.
I like many things. What do you like?
A poem for #PoetryMonth2017.
Why do so many black people love to point out all the flaws of their ethnicity like parents blaming teachers for their children failing grade. Yet when another ethnicity takes the same flaws and appreciate and show love, the same black people erupt a volcano of “it is our culture, we are the only ones entitled to wear hair like that or use that hastag.” Do they hear themselves sounding like Judas before the Last Supper? This is why we cannot have anything nice because we are busy throwing dice about ownership over trivial matters. If a young Bangladeshi-American growing up in New Jersey used #blacklivesmatter in answer to one question on a Stanford application flustered so many black people then shouldn’t black people express more than lackluster dismay? Shouldn’t one be happy that another ethnicity is marching to the proud loud drums of equality for all. Instead many are lashing out that it was not his hastag to use, leaving my thought process dashing in an array of dismay. What is wrong with our sense of reasoning? Are we so mess up in the head with such strong yet low opinions of ourselves that we fail to realize that if we keep segregating that we are defeating the fight against laws of Jim Crow?
Islam is a religion and its fellowers are called Muslims like Christianity is a religion and it’s followers called Christians.
Sign off with a sigh for #PoetryMonth2017