Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

17.7.17
this weather

I said, empty your mind, water can flow or it can crush, be the water that chooses a fluid stream, nothing pure about the way it flows, there’s something so beautiful about imperfections, how much more hydrated you will live your life, shape it, be the water, sink your teeth into its calamity, you’re never to take away from yourself something so needed, I’m telling you empty your mind, watch the way the clouds move in rotation to this earth, take time, listen to the beats that are playing in the background listen, to its symphony well, there is hidden rhythm matched to yours, open the window beside you and breathe in a feeling, a mood, now, don’t forget to get lost in this fantasy, close your eyes and tempt the mind, but do not be destructed by its way of being, it is a lost organ free in this body, acknowledge its motion and visit the rest of the body, you’re here, its been a while since we’ve conquered this together, how much warmer is it in here now, can you feel it too, how it makes sense, the way we love this body, can you feel it now.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

12.7.17 | 13.7.17
Black Woman (self,..black women before and now.)

About this self, about how this body is blessing, is all this woman, is a careful result of rituals self-love, how it resonates and resurrects with this kind of illness, is a anxious body learning to call its scared oasis defiant, for the way it learns to yield at this entrenched state of mind, there aren’t many instances this body gets to feel this kind of solidarity, in a room filled with this kind of love, so used to being expelled at words that know how well we sit crossed and armed, we must teach each other how to use our inherited the way we like to keep this body safe and honest, teach its complexities to ourselves so we can unlearn its unauthorized cycle, that we don’t always have to be this pretty to know this kind of broken, how each woman can be both, can be this beautifully broken and still call it healing, not ashamed of being this kind of woman, that strong isn’t always barley seen, I am no strange to the familiar way this melanin is strummed and dipped in a different kind of beauty, called and shackled by those who taint its shade for palatable, easy to taste but never worth its full feast, how this skin is a movement for the way we look at our black skin, has always been beautiful, the way this natural has always played against the rules, they have always something to say about the way they appropriate, I mean take, I mean brake, I mean black women, we come together and unit to sugar cane, endlessly teasing the largest star in the sky, how we bleed this kind of woman, words that speak ancestral lineage, unfinished and untold voices that will never anchor at those who attempt to cease what black womanhood before us have taught deep into the system, how we have been taught that strength comes from the way black women who have fought for black woman rise even after us, Maya AngelouΒ says, there is no agony like bearing an untold story inside of you, how Rosa Parks called on us, to remind this black body of woman is agency, for this type of unity, said, all great achievements require time, and still do we witness black women who are living these prophecies in stated greatness, Viola Davis, Taraji p Henson, Janelle Monae all these black women who are reflections of such trinity, queens, handing down wisdom in all types of empowerment, reminding black women that we are the worlds tempest living out dreams, fables that can not be bound so easy, make enough loud to show this world we are here, we have always been, here, and guarded, of fight.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

9.7.17

The human body is a defiant build, it does not like to be forgotten so easily, played so well by others who shame its kindness their words becoming blades before something so sweet watch how quickly they devour you whole, have you ever had someone tell you we belong together weak at words that rest on the crescent of their smile, your happiness bestowed in their being how unfortunate to see how this kind of scene play out your eyes weep for its forgotten happiness so pure, this feeling so weak, careless silly, the heart weak do not flutter at the attempt of words that have broken you you’re not chained to its absolute, watch over this body well, self-care is never a glimmer it is never to be overlooked as conceded learn to fall in love with yourself first what other being breathe into this body, this good body alive that could mimic this kind of love but yourself, look at this being a muse, you’re not to be cheated by those who tell you otherwise.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

9.7.17

bound, I have found what it meant to be an overplayed song, said that this body has been scared by those who have not even had the privilege, when I think about what it means to see honesty in their eyes I imagine it must be like a suffocating thing to look at something they could own if they could just get what they wanted, a thing, this body, I can not help but see this as a cycle for burring trust to those who say they speak the truth, so easily, claim an unopened pandora you have been miming at this body promising this will be the last, had to watch the heart suffer at the attempts of double edged knifes, a hoax, you are now forced to exempt this cycle this state so familiar how do you do this kind of trust so easily

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

Β 3.7.17
As women (we are more than..)

As a black woman I am many things, I rest on my mothers shoulders and bare her hurt from the bloodline of Ethiopia to Nairobi Kenya, I watch her and see myself in her eyes, her mahogany is validation of my own inner beauty she has given me so much to be kind and content when it comes to soul searching identity, she is both mother and hero as I chalk mark her attempts to piece back what she thinks she has lost, her hands tired from all they have cradled, when I look at our generation of women I witness the pliers of new entirety, the crater of fight we have to slowly digest, we are the announced generation that can not be subsided to calm, jaw words that will save us, this bitter sweet narrative never conditioned, unwavering influence that has been evolved by womanhood before us, have always been this kind of fierce hero, proud to call this type of super human part of this reality that we are shifting norms and giving misogyny something to externalize, teaching ourselves that we have always been our mothers (woman), unapologetically drafting our own affiliates, when I look at the women who have surrounded me with intuition I am able to witness both a fire and a flower, learning them as women whom ash systematic norms to blue flames, flourish and unapologetic to the beauty in our being which means to grow roots beneathΒ this kind of flower, there is no momentum scandalous enough slow this pace hero built into our womanhood, we are the systems protagonist done so well we are teaching each other how to slow burn fires in the form of love and growth with this beautified integrity.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

29.6.17
Time (self..)

you, been waiting this long, time is no enemy it is the cross alliance of self and patience, you may hear others and watch their presence become hero before your eyes do not get this confused with your super power, do not watch others and seek yourself, confuse it for worth, do not confuse yourself with worth you’re time, if you look around and see self as lost be very careful of its freedom their are some who do not have this kind of luxury, we are existence of our own time, do not fear what you have right now we are infinite strikes upon this fortune, catharsis that has been bent backwards sometimes, you will not see the value in pain but I promise you will find the lesson buried deep in the inconsistency of the heart, you will not mistake it for anything but precious tempos of time within self, you will see this heart a muse for the way it clings onto intangibles so tight is when you will learn to see the difference between heart and heart ache, so quick to always catch this body, this self-, watch the time, do not fumble its silence, it is a virtue of our own will in the form of duration

Poem: Melody of Being Animate

21.6.17
keep me (beautiful weakness..)

I might care for you more than you’re willing, able to feed this body with the love I have drowned you into its own meaning, you’re the first and last thought I think about, and its frightening when I think you’re ever leaving, I reminisce so much of the way you speak, remembering words that have been beauty marked into my heart, this fear of loving is making me unable to show you too much of the ways in which I have missed so much of you, it’s tiring, loving when you’re afraid of the receivers response to this intense feeling, this kind of longing is no temporary sensation, the eyes have watched you long enough to miss the way you have been seen into this body, a beautiful weakness, I want to be an intense feeling bind your words to my heart, keep your body close to the mind so you’re unable to live without its warmth, love you the way flames feel when you get too close, I want to melt in your arms long enough to be called yours, you’re a beautiful weakness, and I love the way you form words that are as soft as the way you want to indulge me, keep me safe, I want to be all yours.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

19.6.17
life..(interlude..)

A welcomed conversation, how often do we get to sit this comfortable and witness the mind this open, do not forget about its illness it is a valuable asset to its existence, it is no disciplined definition, it is a diffident kind of love, we are still learning to exist with its interference’s, learning fearlessness from back bone, and fluid flowing into our stream, how often are we welcoming and welcomed of uncomfortable, do we accept its way of healing and slowly allow the word love to grace the mimic of our mouth, let the sun light in, you have been gone too long, been seen too often of room dimmed in candle lit long enough just to be called empty, you’re not empty, remember this heart, has been beating for every kind of love so many times there is no limit to selflessness, and the mind constantly having to be hero for the way this body beautifies, and how the body has learnt to hide behind broken so beautifully, we are only here to exist as we want, as we choose so careless to its boundaries, who needs constraints when you have found the absolute in living each day, when you’re hero each day-, thank you for reading this, I hope we can do this again sometime.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

14.06.17 | love song (bind me to you..need)

“..what does the body do when it has found a way to solve heart beats, it doesn’t know how to catch this feeling and learn to let it go so easily, this feeling, has found a way to stay in this body, can’t call it uninvited, how do you do that, make it feel like you’re the only one who can make it feel like this body needs, you, when you control do you mean the way the mind has also fallen-, linger, no, stay here longer, I am slowly binding my words to match yours instead of losing them in your eyes I want to lose them somewhere along the same intensity of what you love, somewhere permanent, I want you to need this entirety.”

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

8.6.17 | 9.6.17. Dreaming Fable (you’re..)

I mime fables that have been seen of this salem, silent in the dark, that sit with the night sky and watch the stars fill its vacancy, a distilled memoir, that glimmers awakened dreams, it has never been about forgetting how to love, but it has always wished on the stars enough to make it real, to never forget that this kind of magic is crafted into all our bodies and we are left to spell it back once it has finished manifesting into our souls long enough to breathe its wild back to love, a spell bound feeling, that is the mirrored shooting star reality of our distilled dreams