Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

18.8.17 | Kind

Been rationally drowning self in understanding how it is you love someone and whether words that learn how to cut tongues and bind itself to narrative that live in the masquerades of awkward glances, side way smiles and pretty words, how we, are watching love move, and dip its self first, is this really love at all, capable of taking such an intensity by what you seek rather than what you see, I mean, if we really think about what it means to love someone beneath the surface of what is in our horizon and feel, one of the unambiguous confessions left honestly is what we seek, I’m not repeating about the way we configure tangibles and intangibles, I’m begging what varies, the in between instances where when we make a decision without a seconds thought, immediately play a mental monologue of what we think we saw in love, and there, caught in the gloss memoirs of what we seeked to begin with, in them, holding onto hidden between silver measures of their imperfections, reminding them and ourselves of how fragile we can all be, the human heart beating at each attempt, always, do we really know love at all, what Im really trying to say is a friend once told me, don’t be in a rush, and I remember looking at her and thinking, those are words I have memorized for myself before.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

18.8.17 | Care

The introverted mind, a consolation of masses that are too much to even ponder and what it really means when you’re watching the grey sky from inside of your bedroom window, a mental hereon of an illness that leaves you feeling the breeze from inside the body and learning to care about yourself even if its narcissistic, I’ve come to learn that even with all the pondering done there’s not much room left for taking a break, even so, there is a huge appreciation for silence which most would find softly uncomfortable, but when you’re this invested uncomfortable learns to settle into a kind of body and politely it becomes a survival thing, when you spend this much time with the mind and this kind body you pick up on care that is much deeper than what you may have previously composed, you also don’t like picking up phone calls, so often we forget that its okay to be our selves, its hard to remind a kind of existence that only knows what its been told is okay, and the way we unconsciously allow something that is not greater than us to set our kind of normal being, still, it is not our fault, need to learn ourselves to be kind to our own, and never be submissive or kind to a system that is not kind to you, said that we don’t have to be so strong all the time we don’t have to hide so much of ourselves just to please a temporary feeling, a temporary person, we’re always allowed to feel as valid as someone we love, because if it were them, this strange, you would be softer, kinder, and you would love them harder.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

6.8.17

A simulation of what I have gathered the blurred lines it means to be a kind of existence that can see through you and not myself, one, my hands are the oasis of both unknown and sink your teeth into this kind of stream, I have to welcome you first, don’t misread my words, don’t think them too deep I am not one to play with such kind of narrative, two, kink, need I say more, both the imagination and for you to give such words like cake, like red room, like how long can you keep this kind of secret, three, watch how you move, I have mastered the art of caring and not knowing to care too much, I will sugar cane and indulge you in ways the mind and this world may not let you kiss away norm’s the way we like to think we are all normal, four, you can either call this body beautiful, or you can watch this body be, beautiful, this is usually where they get confused, five, can you feel it, the way I touch a heart that knows how to not show too much, will say how they mirror you but you’re just watching how they speak, how they speak in motion to how they match their mouth is to walk, most important thing for everyone to realize is that for any person to see, we are all existence of awareness to what we feel, so if you feel heartbeats too much, watch the mind and body, if you feel the mind too much, watch the body and heart, if you feel the body too much, watch the heart and the mind, this, is how self-care and love playfully intertwine.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

4.8.17
from dusk to dawn

I just wanna be with you right now, when I move this slow I can see the stars come through my room, its like a flame not a light, nothing too soft something like burn like desire like you’re my desire, like so quick, like can you see how fast this feeling catches on to things, people, like things and people, like, since when did people become possession , like who is your possession , no one, this feeling has flamed out and sparked a different kind of light, its not always that bright this clear to see, in the night sky, the night sky, I tell myself its going to be okay, there have been days where I have watched the sun disappear into the abyss of the night forgetting to eat, I have to remind myself to eat, my body doesn’t want to understand this heightened sense of sensitivity, doesn’t like that being this unstable to anxiety is leaving this body wasted into nothing, looking at opportunities has become a burden, unsure of how long this kind of illness can exist, cease to been felt this much, how you smile at kin when they ask if you’re okay, when they ask about that job, one shift, 4 hours no sleep, what happened, and you tell them, you don’t like the way human beings have learnt to bury their belief of you in them, how tight it is to breathe such an invisible noose, under these stresses, mass anxiety is a build up of a house on fire, your body is lit up from all the judge, only to blow smoke in their face you don’t remember thinking yourself so much worth, don’t remember giving yourself in their safe keeping in their palms closed, four corners with no exit what else did they expect when you watch the words judge, you, others leave their mouth is when you watch their body deflate and swear you could almost make out the words rested in the creases of their face you didn’t ask for this, you didn’t see this kind of opportunity coming, you didn’t know how else to break down but you were not going to allow all this hard work around so much love for an illness that is not ready for this world how he, was so careless to pain that can not be seen, don’t know the intensity of words protested, this world is not ready to aid this kind of illness, still learning about its malaise and all you can do is smile and take care of this body learn, it to heal even when they see you as weak, as give up, you’re a silenced savior to your own body, this kind of hero would be too much for them, they are not ready for you yet.

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

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 Angelou 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

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

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

24.5.17
Unexplainable love (..healing..)

Unexplainable, how this outcome usually comes over flowing with so much state, no context to fix its now, a mess, a message from the body, unexplainable, how each trigger is a constant breakdown, how long will you last this time, an occurrence of memoirs, memories of bombastic emotion, years back, fast forward to now, all the after math leaving this body aching for more, no clear path way, the solutions are all hidden and I am left to find my way out without guidance, without instructions, how do you tame a natural disaster, wave its way into your being so deep, too deep twisted into this soul, watched and felt it make a wreck out of everything that is slowly learning to give it life, have to build it back up every time, can’t help its unexplained terror, the way it attacks this body is a plea for help, wanting to be noticed so it can be eased, the mind is calling to be settled, the body it hurting, can you feel the way it tenses up at public spaces watch you this body run from eyes even its own, so quick to miss mirrors, a reflection of what can beauty behold, can give to this body, in this state is it enough, are you enough so full on this feeling, having to watch it breakdown at its own solutions, running away from self is much harder than running away from others so we make alliance to keep sane, to feel other emotions other than the ones that have lived in this body for longer than we can even remember, do you remember, we chose not to let go, to understand how this body is trying to heal do you remember, how we promised not to give up, that each breakdown means one step closer to healing which means one step closer to self love, which means you’re healing, do you remember, I want you to close your eyes and remember, you’re worth all the effort, you were always worth all the effort, all this love, you’re worth all of it

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

8.5.17 | 13.5.17 | 16.5.17
you think Im scared of death, I’ve done it a million times

“My friend of 8 years asks me if I have ever met death, n I look at her n spare her, told her not to joke around, she said that, I would tell her if I did, n I laugh, in that moment I remember thinking Im not scared of death I’ve met it a million times, found it in the form of this body, this illness, these hands, objects that are as confused as its rushed decisions, I have met death so many times n each time I am met with the persuasion of its not your time, you’re not ready, there is so much to create here, you have so much to care for don’t take it all away just yet, think about how he will feel, think about how you will feel not being able to see him again, remembering love in the form of who I call family, death reminding me I know you think this will be nothing compared to the temporary pain but I want you to think about yourself for a moment-, its funny, how you see all the beauty n good in your life once you’re ready to end it all, that all these memories of love come rushing through without a moments hesitation, you have to remind yourself of what you’re worth everyday so you’re able to see it even when you don’t met with death too regularly, so the next time you can..”