Something bitter 

Craving something bitter

Sugar coats never seemed that sweet to me, eventually, I’ll look past the disguise and see, what was meant to be…
There’s always something more, behind what we hide, always a silver lining, our pride forces us to deny, although reality might not be your cup of tea, it will always be mine. So say it straight, hit me with the punchline, but spare me the white lies.

I want to see the light, even if it hurts my eyes. Because I would rather look for beauty in the ugliest truth. Than look for truth, in the most beautiful lie.

Flower 

Now Deeply rooted in my grey matter, emotions stem from a flower that never leaves. I lay there, mired in thought, wondering how different my plot would be, if her seeds were never sown… If she had never grown on me…

Her petals shine like gold medals, on my podium of pandemonium, cropping up ever more awesome with each blossom…implanted in my dreams, almost magically…

Tragically, She radically soils my clarity…
I work tirelessly to harvest reality, supersede her from train of thought, weed her from my memories…an endless lobotomy, aimed at this enigmatic botany… My efforts are fruitless…

But the truth is, she is not to blame for this matter, It was I who plowed my grey matter, till it was conducive, exclusively for… my flower

In colour and in rhyme

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the walk

“We are all here for a reason on a particular path
You don’t need a curriculum to know that you’re apart of the math
Cats think I’m delirious but I’m so damn serious
That’s why I expose my soul to the globe; the world
I’m tryin’ to make it better for these little boys and girls
I’m not just another individual
My spirit is a part of this, that’s why it’s spiritual
But I get my hymns from him
So it’s not me, it’s he, that’s lyrical
I’m not a miracle, I’m a heaven sent instrument
My rhythmatic regiment navigates melodic notes
For your soul and your mental
That’s why I’m instrumental, vibrations is what I’m into
Yeah I need my loot by rent day
But that ain’t what gives me the heart of Kunta Kinte
I’m tryin’ to give us us free like Sinke
I can’t stop, that’s why I’m hot
Determination, dedication, motivation
I’m talking to you of my many inspirations
When I say I can’t let you or self down
If I were on the highest cliff, on the highest riff
And if you slipped off the side, and clinched on to your life,
In my grip. I would never ever let you down
And when these words are found
Let it be known that God’s penmanship has been signed
With a language called love
That’s why my breath is felt by the death
And while my words are heard and confined to the ears of the blind
I too dream in color and in rhyme

So I guess I’m one of a kind in a full house
Cause whenever I open my heart, my soul or my mouth
A touch of god reigns out.” 

This poem by j. Ivy. was recorded on the track “never let you down” on kanye wests graduation album in 2004 .

 

 

Shadow of supremacy

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 They stand against the light to cast shadows, that make our paths dark, it’s no wonder we got lost on our way home. We once sat on gold thrones, now we beg thieves for a place in our own home…

we’ve been taught to fight their shadows, with the shade we throw, while the grave they dug for us grows and grows…Go to their schools to borrow our own ideas, the innovators become imitators, in hopes to integrate, into their hateful ways..  

 When they can’t break us, they’ll force us to bend, and blend, into the violent trends they set without regrets. They’ll pretend to be our friends, tell us they mean “no offence” …while keeping our very being misunderstood.

Until we end up in a shadow war with no end. Cast by burning crosses ,pointed hoods…and fear 

 

whispers and screams

(Co-written by @fontsize4poetry)

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They tell me that I’m no good.
Crawling up along my shoulder blades, they cling to my ear lobes and pull up.
Whispering with conviction-
Look at you. Ugh. Do better.
They tell me it’s my fault, pushing back my shoulders, tugging aggressively on my ear lobes, screaming with assertion.
Look at you. Eww. Be better.
My heart beat begins to play bass to this sinister symphony of whispers and screams…
I know the music won’t last but I can’t help but hate that I can’t change the tune… They drag me down often, make this body of mine an object to be poked, and teased, and pulled apart, limb from limb like I aint shit to anyone.
I am no temple when they come around.
I remain forever bound, to the two sinister sounds no one else can hear, my feet glued to the ground, my self put in a cell…so no one else can hear… any of my whispers or screams for help.

Fake flowers 

Dear inventor of fake flowers, why?

I understand that maybe you just wanted to capture beauty and keep it forever,

but don’t you let people believe that looks will last.

Didn’t you realise that there is beauty in aging,

that there is character to the bunch with a few wilting stems?

You can’t trick me into believing that there is beauty in perfection,

see I’ve tried to reach it and failed many times.

Starved of water, we all die,

so how can pretty be pretty without the spark of alive?

See, this bunch may have been beautiful at first glance,

but I’ve had it for years now and nothings changed.

No new sprouts, no death-

No need to nurture and love for that won’t affect these fakes.

I don’t even look at them anymore.

Beautiful as they may be, they are less beautiful to me knowing that this is all that they will ever be.

Dear lover,

please don’t ever buy me fake flowers with the hope that I will feel comforted by everlasting beauty.

Buy me ones that will die.

One’s that I will therefore cherish for every moment that they are alive,

One’s with bruised petals and wilting stems but still fragrant so that I can see that beautiful is more than meets the eye.

Dear inventor of fake flowers, why?

Poetry by the amazingly talented https://fontsize4poetry.com

Naked 

Optimism, the stunning dress that accentuates her curves, the make-up that brings out her best features, a mask to hide all her beautiful flaws…

Pessimism
, the comfy outfit that makes it look like she didn’t try, the dark shades that cover the sparkle in her eyes, the thick blanket in a gloomy slumber. a dark cloak to cower under…

Realism
, the very skin she was born in, the way she is and not the way she wants to be seen, no clothes, jewelry, shoes or belts. nothing, but a naked reflection of her true self.

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(model: Danielle Sams)

I am 

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I am

I am

I am

I am as empty as the meaning of my opening line,

Yet as full as an avocado;

Ripe with potential to be sweet and smooth.

I don’t want to be vain,

I don’t mean to be as bold as the cock…

Of a gun,

Or to cock back my head and dictate this space,

Or dictate your pace,

But dictate my pace

And not waste…

My words, because you are going to listen to me.
even if I seem as empty as the meaning of my opening line…

Because my words are weapons, and my tongue is cocked back ready to shoot my soul at you…

I changed from a chicken into a rooster, so now I come across as cocky, when I crow at you … I just sat on my potential till it hatched.

I don’t want to be arrogant, but you are going to listen to every last word of my written rant.

Because until I find someone who can relate, at the pace I dictate

to what, I am;

Where, I am;

Who, I am;

and all. the emptyness I’ve faced.

My world and my words would have gone to waste

And I am… Just not going to let that happen.

(Co written by harmony farrell)

why she hid

she hid her face, though she was niether timid nor ashamed…

niether was she meek,  nor tame…

she felt there was a lot more to her picture than just the frame…

there was nothing to hide, but so much more to see inside…

so she hid the face she had, beacasue…

she felt she was making it easier to see the soul she was…

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Be 

Individual battles that rattle our collective mind, painfully breathtaking, left us shaking, soaked in emotion, barely coping, hoping, floating, in an ocean of negativity. We dread…

Inactivity, from A will once strong, that now seems so tender. We grow colder as sin sits on our shoulders and urges us to surrender…
Our pride,

We do our best to hide fears, we dry tears, with lies…we flee from the now, and run rings round our own eyes… Somewhere in the miserable circles we see, we’ve forgotten how, to just be…
Free.

With our feelings, and thoughts. so anxious, to spend all the time we bought, we waste what little we have left. A twisted self-theft that leaves our true selfs on the bottom shelf. And our broke hearts in dept. we seek…
Verve.

To regrow the nerve,  to learn how, to just do,  without knowing exactly how…  to just be, and appreciate the unrivaled excellence, of now.

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