It seem so difficult to concentrate on any task of pleasure for too long. I am not sure why my mind goes on its own leisure away from the task at hand in flights of other objectives bourne out of a type of mind fuck. It is that fleeting mask green with jealous yet teasing my thoughts to unsettling nerves of fright. I cannot finish my novel in the timely manner of before because the sight of a familiar sends my paranoia running marathons. Why am I cunningly manoeuvring between settled and haste? It was moments of strategic thinking but now it feels like a waste of embarrassing analysis. Something is slipping away turning in times of torments and aimless mind mummbling. Dipping into cascades of shining nothingness,something is mind fucking.
A poem for Poetry Month. I may dip into the world of writing more than twice weekly for Poetry Month.Happy poetry month
He said “My nose is running like a slave.”
I said “What did you say? Tell me you just did not say…”
He said “Yes,my nose is running like a slave with a whip on its back.”
Ohhhh I planned to lay it in on him, really thick for having the nerve to compare his cold to Slavery.
So I said “I will write about you.”
Hours later and I am contemplating his statement and my response.
Why am I sensitive whenever someone juxtaposes Slavery with a subject I deem too crazy for such referencing?
What gave me the authority to feel a bit flabbergasted by his comment and at times disgusted by some others?
Why does just the mere mention of the word Slavery heightens my senses flowing maydays to my aorta of self-defense?
When do I learn to build a wall like China that would hinder all illegal foreign unmentionable from climbing into my sensitive thinking zone.
Oops but isn’t that the Trump wall?
But the solid opinion holds firm like old oak in hurricane winds that talk of Slavery moves me.
Not only am I a student of history but I am an accepted descendant of some enslaved.
Not only does the chocolate colour of my skin and my nationality shows my claim but my emotional connection plunges me into that world which scares many away.
Maybe I will keep my sharp inhales which sometimes pierces like the final whistle on the ball court,to myself.
But maybe not because that weapon dressed up in pink that God blessed me with is perhaps as sharp as the iceberg which sunk the unsinkable ship.
Mo- ments drawn out of past calamities to painful to forget but easy to remember the caution of not repeating.
Stretched out imagination pinning for an influence to drunk out to respond.
Tortured thoughts of flash scenes not the thing of the pleasant flash mobs.
“How did I get myself here? ”
“Why did I allow it to happen?”
“Somewhere in every man, etched out upon his soul, is the one resentment, one love, one hate that his days have pressed out of him. Whether it’s written harshly upon the surface of his wizened face, or pierces out from the deep within his yellow eyes, it’s there!”
Ismith Khan, The Jumbie Khan
An array of thoughts
Babbling through my ever so
Cautious mind. Should I
Delve into your world of
Fissure red-hot emissions or slide through to the
Glaciers on the other side of
Halt to the three four?
Inquiry mind of mine
Just needs to
Know am I as appreciated as your
Makes it seem.
Nodding your head in the heat
Of passion does not
Provide a justified answer.
Questions I do have the
Right to ask for my heart
To keep me safe and for the sanity of my thoughts
Urging me to dissect the
Very deep core of your
Wavering attitude. I will
X-ray every emotion, every
Yearning my heart, my body gives before I get to that
Zone of comfort.
When cinders from all the dust
soils your clothes, food and mood
do what you must
to stay level-headed cool.
Smile inside even if it does not
crack to your mouth.
Do not allow that crippling rot,
filling your heart with a drouth
decaying all chances of future joy.
Hold on to the hope of the Cinderella blessing,
where the glass slipper melts away all stressing.
The silver lining is around the corner
so pick up your persistent armour.
A poem encouraging all (myself included) to hold on to faith that circumstances will change for the better. My contribution for Jackie’s Thinking Corner encouraging all to inspire positive thinking.
ÁWá photograph via Wikimedia.org
So much to write about but nothing to say, well it is plenty in sight.
However,My heart is choke with emotions to heartbreaking to poke through. The veins of story flowing to heart felt pulse sowing into arteries for disposal of much needed relief. My mind screams the dreams that never open like a flower on the off set of spring.
When I realize the extent I let you touch my heart, it makes me cry.
It was that deep, levels of emotions dipping into mariana trenches of soul ties that…
I need to call my pastor.
I do not want a permanence but a taste that may erase the trace of you.
But seedlings of doubt urge me against sampling thine fruits thinking of a future date that will never be.
Yet it does not stop the twirling of butterflies that reach to the eyes like the effect of pollen to a spring allergic.
I will keep my head up and when my chin starts drooping, I will slap it back into location.
When their words fly darts of Pit Bull viciousness, I will smile in my heart because I know even if he is silent, my God sees everything.
Even when the temptation to respond raises quick like the cheetah out for a meal, I bite my tongue to keep my storm at bay.
I am encouraged by the words of the Good Book, I find comfort in knowing that nothing is wrong with me because scores attack.
Attack with their matching red coated armies because I decide to wait for sex. It is my decision and if I perhaps change course in the future, it is still my decision.
So I live to raise another day because of the mercies of God not to rage holy war with anyone but to live peacefully with all men.
Not because I am afraid because I have two blood mix that can shut down these fool but because God has done a number on my heart.
I am not cantankerous, needy and hiding under a cloak of much needed attention (that is the issue with many motor mouths), so quarrelling does not appeal to my nature.
May God deal with them.
Prompt Stomp Week 14: Survival
Superhero Jesus by Deus- Nocte via Deviant.com
“You my hero, you already saved the day”
A sentence jumping into my thoughts when I saw the theme for the first Prompt Stomp of 2016. The line is from Trip Lee’s Hero Invasion, a song I listened to so much at university. It definitely made me pause to an extent that I stopped everything, staring at the wall. Reflecting. Thinking of a time that Jesus was my superhero and no matter what circumstance occurred, he was the one to my rescue. It was a true description of “the solid rock” because with him I felt an anchor. Some call him an imaginary friend but I never had those, I have characters from stories as friends but I cannot recall having imaginary friends. He was real like the characters from stories.
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