You have to be careful about who you drag into your life, and when. Before you know it, they’re walking around with a few pounds of your baggage and all you want to do is say “stop. I got this. I like you, too — really. But I’ve got things to deal with, and unfortunately, there’s nothing good about me for you. I’m just a whole bunch of situations and ‘One time, there was this girl…’ stories.”
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“I hope she cheats on you with a basketball player. Hope that she Kim Kardashian(ed) her way up. Don’t know the difference between a touch down and a lay up. Got you on viagra in order for you to stay up. I may sound bitter - I’m a little bitter, just a little bitter, because’ you were with her. I’m salt lake city now I’m up on out the picture - remember how it was when I was wit ya’.”
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“I hope she cheats on you with a basketball player. Hope that she Kim Kardashian(ed) her way up. Don’t know the difference between a touch down and a lay up. Got you on viagra in order for you to stay up. I may sound bitter - I’m a little bitter, just a little bitter, because’ you were with her. I’m salt lake city now I’m up on out the picture - remember how it was when I was wit ya’.”
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toskateonsun:
You have to be careful about who you drag into your life, and when. Before you know it, they’re walking around with a few pounds of your baggage and all you want to do is say “stop. I got this. I like you, too — really. But I’ve got things to deal with, and unfortunately, there’s nothing good about me for you. I’m just a whole bunch of situations and ‘One time, there was this girl…’ stories.”
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“Flatter me, and I may not believe you. Criticize me, and I may not like you. Ignore me, and I may not forgive you. Encourage me, and I may not forget you.”
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“Beautiful U R” I swear God speaks in the weirdest ways.
I just got home from a long day and night. I’m frustrated with people. I went to an Open Mic run by the Syracuse Peace Council called “Drop Beats, Not Bombs”. It started an hour late but was interesting. A bunch of beautiful, peace loving elderly people who loved hearing us young people share our poems as well as them sharing with us. My friends refused to stay the whole time as if it was going to last much longer. I understand she waited for an hour for them to start in the first place but it was rude and irritating. I at least said bye to the Syracuse Peace Council and grabbed information, being that I want to collab with this organization someday for my own goals.
They rushed to go to our friends house to not do much but eat, talk, hang, play cards, etc. The whole time we were there, they were busy chatting on the side while poetry was being read. At least, ACT like you’re listening out of courtesy.
But I got to spit for the first time in a long time. Honestly, I felt insecure and embarrased. I don’t feel supported in what I do at all anymore.I cannot wait to return to NYC where Poetry is truly appreciated and respected. Where workshops are truly riveting and the community is so close and encouraging. I don’t get that here.
What’s also frustrating is the fact that I’ve been wanting to facilitate an open mic against violence in the exact Amphitheater in Thorden Park where this intimate event occurred today. But because of red tape and other bullshit my program coordinator gives me, I haven’t been able to follow through on my vision. But no worries. I will. I plays no games with this.
I’m also really stressed with school work. I have a total of 13 pages of writing to hand in to my professor that’s already late and really gotta bang out my next 2 exams.
I lost my fucking glasses.I have no idea where they are.I’m so pissed.
I’m sick of guys.Unappreciative.Ungrateful.Irritating.Lying.Ass. Guys
I feel like I’m losing people I really care about.Nothing feels the same anymore.Not even the simplest interactions feel loving or genuine! There shit under the rug. Anyone going through this as well, PLEASE hit me up!
I’ma stop ranting. The point is I felt like shit all day. My head is spinning mentaly and physically as well because I can’t see! I get home and whats comes up next on the Disco Mix of Toni Braxton on youtube?
A song I never heard before called “Beautiful U R” by Deborah Cox.
Click here to listen: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uRQj3SkrkU8
It reminded me that I will not lose myself despite the strife. It’s hard. But Beautiful I am just like the song says. Fuck outta here.
Nothing and Noone is worth my sanity.
“Beautiful U R”
I swear God speaks in the weirdest ways.
I just got home from a long day and night. I’m frustrated with people. I went to an Open Mic run by the Syracuse Peace Council called “Drop Beats, Not Bombs”. It started an hour late but was interesting. A bunch of beautiful, peace loving elderly people who loved hearing us young people share our poems as well as them sharing with us. My friends refused to stay the whole time as if it was going to last much longer. I understand she waited for an hour for them to start in the first place but it was rude and irritating. I at least said bye to the Syracuse Peace Council and grabbed information, being that I want to collab with this organization someday for my own goals.
They rushed to go to our friends house to not do much but eat, talk, hang, play cards, etc. The whole time we were there, they were busy chatting on the side while poetry was being read. At least, ACT like you’re listening out of courtesy.
But I got to spit for the first time in a long time. Honestly, I felt insecure and embarrased. I don’t feel supported in what I do at all anymore.I cannot wait to return to NYC where Poetry is truly appreciated and respected. Where workshops are truly riveting and the community is so close and encouraging. I don’t get that here.
What’s also frustrating is the fact that I’ve been wanting to facilitate an open mic against violence in the exact Amphitheater in Thorden Park where this intimate event occurred today. But because of red tape and other bullshit my program coordinator gives me, I haven’t been able to follow through on my vision. But no worries. I will. I plays no games with this.
I’m also really stressed with school work. I have a total of 13 pages of writing to hand in to my professor that’s already late and really gotta bang out my next 2 exams.
I lost my fucking glasses.I have no idea where they are.I’m so pissed.
I’m sick of guys.Unappreciative.Ungrateful.Irritating.Lying.Ass. Guys
I feel like I’m losing people I really care about.Nothing feels the same anymore.Not even the simplest interactions feel loving or genuine! There shit under the rug. Anyone going through this as well, PLEASE hit me up!
I’ma stop ranting. The point is I felt like shit all day. My head is spinning mentaly and physically as well because I can’t see! I get home and whats comes up next on the Disco Mix of Toni Braxton on youtube?
A song I never heard before called “Beautiful U R” by Deborah Cox.
Click here to listen: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uRQj3SkrkU8
It reminded me that I will not lose myself despite the strife. It’s hard. But Beautiful I am just like the song says. Fuck outta here.
Nothing and Noone is worth my sanity.
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Rain and Questions It rained in Syracuse today. I think it was a sign that I needed to cleanse and let go of things. It was an amazing experience. So freeing. So fun. So without inhibition. So without judgement of myself. No worries about my hair or what was on my feet. So carefree. So childlike and innocent. I wanted it to last. After this picture, we played with a soccer ball. People questioned why we walked and stood in the rain purposely. I said “The sky is speaking. Just listen.” I needed that. There’s something beautiful about rain if we remove materialism and superficial nonsense from the equation. It was a gift I thank Mother Nature for. She’s tryna make up for the other gift she sent this week. LOL
I encourage you all to play and think in the rain once. It’s worth the wet.
Rain and Questions
It rained in Syracuse today. I think it was a sign that I needed to cleanse and let go of things. It was an amazing experience. So freeing. So fun. So without inhibition. So without judgement of myself. No worries about my hair or what was on my feet. So carefree. So childlike and innocent. I wanted it to last. After this picture, we played with a soccer ball. People questioned why we walked and stood in the rain purposely. I said “The sky is speaking. Just listen.” I needed that. There’s something beautiful about rain if we remove materialism and superficial nonsense from the equation. It was a gift I thank Mother Nature for. She’s tryna make up for the other gift she sent this week. LOL
I encourage you all to play and think in the rain once. It’s worth the wet.
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I told ya’ll how dope poets are, right? A fellow writer, Ka’Mone Felix—This woman gives me chills. I’ma need yall to read this poem and understand how fucking dope this poem is. She took science, love, emotion, gorgeous language & humanity and wrote this. Don’t ask me how she does it. But she does it well.
P.S. I told her we should make babies together .She probably thinks I’m the ONLY creeper. But ehhh, shit happens. Don’t judge me.LOL
“Secrets”
I know something you don’t know: If my body were made of glass My pulse Would be an un-catalogued index of refraction I bend light here In this breath There is a clock tower Singing its way into a pit of spades At 12 oclock it is the loudest ring of honesty across the border It spills from my mouth I cannot control who hears it Only who believes that it is mine. Mirrors are tricky Depending on the density It can trap light in the oddest places. Her eyes Are the oddest pairs of Armageddon I have shied away from. She is the girl next door With enough split tongue to skin the life from us. In the fifth grade, she was the smartest girl on my block Knew How to kiss the boys hard enough to attach them to her wrists Sadistic the way she strung all of them like bad orchestra play. We were too young for me to tell her That I wasn’t jealous of her Just the boys. When I see her now Her smiles are concave curdles of regret And apologies That she owes to herself. I don’t smile back, I just tell her that the drugs are mood alterers Not life ones. Glass can either absorb Or deflect light Depending on the crystal of it. Lately I have been too afraid to pick the color pixels from my skin too afraid that my insides will be more neon and charge than I have ordered them to be I cannot understand a woman Who calls herself colorblind she obviously has never been see through before and doesn’t understand how badly things burn through you that way. I let a love burn through me once And caught myself Wading in the flame of it Long after I had extinguished the wick of myself. There is nothing heavier Than the trek of weakness Across a white carpet The ash of everything broken Clinging to your ankles Like estranged children. Never will I love a dying prayer again, The kind That holds wreckage of Your reflection Against your cheek And promises to hold you the way no one has before. With calloused hands And fingertips that promise to mend you But never do. Glass that has been shattered Has no control Over where it refracts the light That it doesn’t want. Packets of photons Split every image Into billions of little pictures That all look the same If you ever have the patience to accurately piece them together. I don’t know everything But I know that there is a reason Why our shoulders hold more than just our arms. Research says that the 4th dimension is intangible; Because they have not been privy to the way a womb can deliver silence how our limbs fold solace into your waistlines If my body were made of glass I would turn you all into mirrors I am not the only one Who still believes that
I told ya’ll how dope poets are, right?
A fellow writer, Ka’Mone Felix—This woman gives me chills. I’ma need yall to read this poem and understand how fucking dope this poem is. She took science, love, emotion, gorgeous language & humanity and wrote this. Don’t ask me how she does it. But she does it well.
P.S. I told her we should make babies together .She probably thinks I’m the ONLY creeper. But ehhh, shit happens. Don’t judge me.LOL
“Secrets”
I know something you don’t know:
If my body were made of glass
My pulse
Would be an un-catalogued index of refraction
I bend light here
In this breath
There is a clock tower
Singing its way into a pit of spades
At 12 oclock it is the loudest ring of honesty across the border
It spills from my mouth
I cannot control who hears it
Only who believes that it is mine.
Mirrors are tricky
Depending on the density
It can trap light in the oddest places.
Her eyes
Are the oddest pairs of Armageddon
I have shied away from.
She is the girl next door
With enough split tongue to skin the life from us.
In the fifth grade, she was the smartest girl on my block
Knew
How to kiss the boys hard enough to attach them to her wrists
Sadistic
the way she strung all of them
like bad orchestra play.
We were too young for me to tell her
That I wasn’t jealous of her
Just the boys.
When I see her now
Her smiles are concave curdles of regret
And apologies
That she owes to herself.
I don’t smile back,
I just tell her that the drugs are mood alterers
Not life ones.
Glass can either absorb
Or deflect light
Depending on the crystal of it.
Lately
I have been too afraid to pick the color pixels from my skin
too afraid that my insides
will be more neon and charge than I have ordered them to be
I cannot understand a woman
Who calls herself colorblind
she obviously has never been see through before
and doesn’t understand how badly things burn through you
that way.
I let a love burn through me once
And caught myself
Wading in the flame of it
Long after I had extinguished the wick of myself.
There is nothing heavier
Than the trek of weakness
Across a white carpet
The ash of everything broken
Clinging to your ankles
Like estranged children.
Never will I love a dying prayer again,
The kind
That holds wreckage of
Your reflection
Against your cheek
And promises to hold you the way no one has before.
With calloused hands
And fingertips that promise to mend you
But never do.
Glass that has been shattered
Has no control
Over where it refracts the light
That it doesn’t want.
Packets of photons
Split every image
Into billions of little pictures
That all look the same
If you ever have the patience to accurately piece them together.
I don’t know everything
But I know that there is a reason
Why our shoulders hold more than just our arms.
Research says that the 4th dimension is intangible;
Because they have not been privy to the way a womb can deliver silence
how our limbs fold solace into your waistlines
If my body were made of glass
I would turn you all into mirrors
I am not the only one
Who still believes that
