Poetry: Melofy of Being Animate

24.7.17 | 26.7.17

If you listen closely, you can hear the mind telling this body words that feel a lot like the ways in which fake, dishonest, like to come close and hug its most vulnerable parts that think belong to this body, how this mental state isn’t something so temporary, that you can’t just turn its function off, that survival, is the same as this health, how quick this illness likes to give metaphors meaning in the same sentence as its brainwashed malaise, you’re worth all the effort, how each word cuts the tips of the tongue, there is always a show of what’s left to unpack, doesn’t like to be misunderstood, this illness, will hurt you first before it hurts the heart working its way up to the mind, how fragile you are, how strong you have be, this mindful can’t see the other side, convinced you’re here forever, don’t ignore what is happening here, this feeling, is trying to talk to this body, tell you how it doesn’t like to be misunderstood remember, to be cradled and rocked, can you see the way it’ll pull at the places where the hurt is most tender do you remember, will mention words like heal and broken to soften a passing feeling, its not always this lonely, in this moment you’re to use a gentle hand, whisper this body to witness all the light in compliments sweet into ears and able to stay this humble, be this kind, we’re all gifted and gift to somebody, to be careful with our words, never use them in split tongue, this is how you brake broken people, we’re all creations of our own, never to be consumed by others but ourselves, in the most tasteful way we perceive this bodies alive, if you listen closely, you can hear the mind telling this body it has always belonged to please its own downfall and accountable to its self, be careful with your words, they are the type of narrative that can dream or damp this beings efforts, do not use them in fit rage, you’re to choose its caliber wisely before you regret its escape from the mouth, as human beings this is the least we can do, as human beings this is the least we can do to stay this balanced, a form of evidence, how we, are all chemically cinematic in hope of balanced sane mobile actuality, this, is what is means to unpack the mind in ways which astound the average being, this is how the mind talks to me when it finds, the right ways to conjoin its fate into my hands, roaming this body its feeling awaiting its welcomed here, I am a home to myself before I am home of any other being animate, melody in twin, I am the poetry in this being first, this is the kind of sweetness that can not be earned by eye candy, you must be as sweet as you look, the sweetest way to tempt a kind of body that has been learnt off pretty enough before sweet inside of this beautiful body, wanting to be sweet enough for both and can only hope melody of animate will do the same.

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

 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 beneath 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.

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

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

7.6.17
Hurting.

What do you do when you can physically feel your body ashing its bones from the inside, you know this feeling too often always uninvited and doesn’t leave until it has made sure you have tried dying at least once, when you have this illness, that likes to eat your body from the deepest parts of its pain and you don’t understand where it found the courage to find it without letting you know first, this illness, likes to keep secrets and never tell this body how to fix its accidents, leaves the body feeling like it is ready to die from its own failure of not being able to locate its demise, how do you sit with something that is trying to kill you slowly, when you’re suffering on your own you are almost forced to witness a death right before your eyes without love knowing you were even there, without family knowing how much it hurts because this kind of pain doesn’t just come with broken bones crunched to dust taken by the empty in this shell of a beautiful body, its so much harder to breathe when you’re not sure if the air you’re breathing is worth living, I was 10 when I first wanted to take my own breath, not long after attempting to see what it would look like to show my mother what it feels like to bleed her words, I imagined flooding this room with all my pain to maybe understand how this body was feeling, to feel better, to stop the pain, I just wanted it all to stop, I didn’t understand why it was coming for me in this kind of cold and loving way, I was 20 when I realized that the words I wrote down were a ransom from this illness, this body is being held hostage, and the heart is barley fighting to stay alive, how to rescue yourself internally when you can’t even save yourself in your living reality, what kind of jaded mood stays for this long, I was 21 when I asked for help, wanted someone to come help me because I didn’t know how to do it first, I was so confused about how this illness attacks this body the way the word enemy comes to the tip of my tongue telling this body words that aren’t true, weakening the heart to confuse abuse for love, you are no hero when this illness comes to surface and claws at every single part of this good body, this bleeding heart, the ache, of numbing the body in a whole is to forget you’re even existing, that you’re alive, this illness likes to drag my body to its absolute and watch it scramble to get back up, and all the heart can do is tighten at the bodies attempt, scared this illness will come for it next, the souls are no where to be found, I am left to save this body alone, just me, who can save this body but me, I am the only one vacant every breath you’re not here when the body has whispered how many times it has given up, and how the heart weeps a flood of pain, you can’t feel this feeling to this intensity don’t sit there and tell me you understand help me, tell me you can help me, that its all going to be okay, that it doesn’t have to be like this, tell me I will get better, that I don’t have to live with this illness bruising this body enough to call them part of this body, I don’t want these wounds, you hear people talk about selflove and how they have not found it, people like me, have not found self love they talk about it like its so close, like its almost in their hands, where, help me find it, I need to find it, Im so scared that one day my body will have enough the heart will be silenced and mute to its own pain and this illness will convince the body to go to sleep forever, a solution, maybe, how do you fix yourself from the inside with an illness bearing teeth at each attempt you can not win this way, help me

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

31.5.17 | 31.5.17
I want all of you (heart beats, unseen+seen..)

“I want all of you, the parts that make it feel like we are in a different world, escape this earth just for a moment, you tell me that communication is not as clear, so I tell you it has always been you, told you that I feel more when I am by your side, when you are not there to witness this heart beat and this body has longed for comfort in your words and hands since the day I met you, you tell me you like me back but I, wonder how strong is the feeling of such a replaceable word, you talk about two different realities as though they exist only through you and they do, you tell me I can come with you if I allow the walls I have built to crumble at our feet-, the most sexiest thing you have ever told me is, I want to get to know both you and your mind, before he could allow self to fully commit, it was at that moment I was sure you were the only person I could give everything without having to fear of letting go so easily, it has always been you, I have always wanted and waited for all of you, look what you’ve done..”

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

28.5.17 – 29.5.17
Note to self: love can lie

Note to self, doesn’t care, only hears voices that speak with dipped in poison split tongues, you were warned, by body, eyes, narration marathons in the form of false actions, disillusioned, told you to watch out for mishaps in the blank spaces that don’t match motion, too loud, what we’re you looking at, looking for, imagine the strength is has taken for body to watch the heart break at so many double edged knifes, the body spoke with shards of glass tip pointed to the heart wept and called the heart a coward for not letting go of what will hurt this body reminding the heart that it beats to unseen too often blurred lines and broken truths, weak, the body begged to not be taken for granted too harshly, that you’re both soft and honest and that is the perfect bate for sharks that swim this close to the shore, you’re to choose you, never forget that praying for the hearts guidance in both compassion and care the body is both heal and hero, don’t know no in between catharsis this is strength that has been learnt and undone from unlearning masks before it allows them to be seen of too soft, pretty first