Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

7.6.19 – 8.6.19 | will you count me in

When asked about my more of blackness I am filled with emotion and blood, can feel my palms get sweaty a me watching their tone to my skin is me remembering that I did not miss any mirrors on the way here, this is a soul that is learning about her body and how it allows to take up all the air in a room, like all the elements of this blue planet done gone blessed her with so much ache, with so much love for what is becoming to be both black and woman, to be this black and woman, I am a black woman that has no shame into her own mind, will bare you her depression type 4 that has taught her how to love when death tries to do us part, be the squeezed hand held so tight calling out to soft hands look here, will count you in mississippi’s like, one mississippi, love yourself first before you love other homes, two mississippi, love how it feels to care for yourself first this world will not apologize for what it has done to you and when you have chosen a path that has reckoning of both identity and love it will be a gentle reminder of who you’re allowing yourself to vine into, it will be a prayer, a kind solitude that needs no reaffirming, a gift for the next gratitude into your home, three mississippi, do not force a you that is still healing, you have yet to unlearn and this is more than okay, in this world it is a must to hear your own voice with your eyes, touch your fingertips and watch your ambiance dance this is anthem enough, is to hear your voice and feel you’re enough, to love my 4c from a generation of royalty, of history and passed down recipes is to love me back harder, is to love this body, is to love me back into this body is to mean to know how to love back harder, so the next time someone asks you about your blackness too, pour them a cup of chai, welcome them into your soul, let them meet everyone at home, let them know this here knows what it means to dedicate a whole day to her 4c, let the guest you welcomed into your home know this here is going to be a while.

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Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

7.6.19 – 6.6.19|my name.

The truth is I thought about this so much, I re wrote it to be perfect when in fact we are nothing but, the truth is when I am asked about where I am from I say black I say Kenya I say Africa and nothing else, sit and watch their mind make me a mistake like I shot gunned so hard like I pulled out that chair so they could fall flat on their ass, like so they know that broken taste sentence be the worst punch line in replacement of who am I, like waking up from a bad dream, the truth is, this question does not intimidate my existence, it ignites my fire and I am watching the question burn alive into my voice I have engulfed its existence full stop, set it alight into the sky told the wind to drag its ashes right through black twitter ready to be asked again full stop, I will not stand here for this I am happy about my blackness so when you fix that mouth with that tone and say things like the n word is derogatory, I am reminded again that you know nothing of what you think your savior dressed skin looks like, the truth is, when I look around me about how my blackness is seen in a room covered by eyes it does not feel good to been seen by these thoughts I mean what I’m saying is passive racism is to be seen by their own thoughts, a savage waste land of my blood my hair dry from all my heat, damaged, I am attempted to set them on fire and this time I choked on my tears, the truth is, when asked about my blackness I say beautiful, I say look how much of my parents, I say love and blackness and enough, and then I say my name too.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

20.4.19 | Guest.

How do you follow me into my home, I’ve been thinking about what manifestation is, what it could look like in this state, I’ve also been talking out loud trying to remember how to use my words when I am this unexpected, I have always told myself that it’s always going to be okay, that you’re allowed to be here too, when my depression visits it brings all the ache with out the twins, knows how to flood in memories, this type of meeting has always still been this way, has always felt like the very first time, and like the last time, what do you call an insomniac with dreams, an unstable mentality into a life, how do you call it again, I’ve gotten so used to being lost that the word its self has fooled both meanings, everything in me is preparing to shutdown, there are two of me here, what is that name again trauma, healing, these words buried so into me I can’t help them out of me, sometimes I’m scared about it all, I don’t exactly know when its going to end, I’ve been holding onto my pieces picking up its shards my hands bloody, I know there are guests of who I am living here, coming in out as they please, they are sloppy, careless and misunderstood, so caved into harsh words that have never belonged here, you tell yourself not to bring that kind of talk here, we did not agree on these types of unnamed chaos too, my existence feels like its on pause again, somewhere I can not even give myself the permission to do anything but breath between these four walls, this has always been beyond a feeling, I know what it feels like to heal, I know my breath has done gone been here too long we want us back so hard, we still do not like the process of understanding everything when guests are this rude into our home, I still have dreams to bring me back alive and well, want to break all these pieces into more pieces and say look this is how I am made it here too, I am learning courage in so many conversations, learning there are more than two sides to every word, I am teaching myself that it is the best thing to fail and hearing my own plea’s is me condemning me to come into myself as I step outside of who I am, to look at all of me and hand my trauma the key for next time.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

6.6.18 \ the L word

I am witness that nothing can prepare to compare when you kiss someone who has learnt to steal your heart charmingly, hands that notice the hiding spaces you quiet down next to them, breathe at the same time to open your world for the L word with your fingertips reaching into their heart and mind, guide them carefully, warn them this wonderland utpoia has been a paralysis of heaven even without their love first, they are the first to be welcomed, you warn them a second time reminding them how this body is selfish when it comes to my love so you tightly hold their hand saying be careful, tell them to speak in trailingual, flowers, speak in the rain and dreams, your secrets are my secrets too now, answer, I have fated us both, choose a kingdom, you kiss them gentley whispering, I’ll be waiting for you right here, so come to find me

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

6.6.18 \ kissing.

Kiss, I can be nice and I can be casanova, I’ve learnt so well what it means to romance hearts and never exhaust melody of being animate, kiss me and tassle your words tightley enough around my neck wrap your hands with mine, please; and melt me with your rare, kiss, I get bored easily so be careful with my heart, it is bored to death with all the lies and split hearts of ghost words with no erotics, kiss me again, I am warned by her’s and him but I could not warn you enough about me, I’ll giggle into your ear whisk my tongue down your lips to your neck you have been warned about how I get my ways, it’s just one allure after another, bite you back and create fantasy right before your eyes, hands tied behind your back, I am not afraid to show you how much I love, when you love me too-, love you.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

26.5.17
can you really love anyone? (..him, me, you…)


He tells me he can love anyone, words that escape his mouth I’m not sure how aware he is of the context of love, that it grasps depth, we wave into conversation about something so tangible seeking its approval before we have found souls to match our definition of love, he says he can love anyone so I wonder what kind of love he has known, does he know the phrases it pronounces, that its more than just tangible, more than just a feeling that it demands the whole body-,

he whisks me up, I think love whispers sweet into your ears, gives new meanings to things we have and yet to experience-,

he kisses me and tells me the mood is lost so deep into conversation, I tell him nah this is hot-,

his words are flames that ignite this body, I tell him to keep tempting its flame and I wonder what kind of love his known-,

can you really love anyone, he said every one of us are capable of good, kind, love, warm, and I wonder does he love anyone, does he know what love means, what it feels like, how often does he watch it speak, can he find it in me too, are we really capable of loving anyone, he says he sees genuine good in everyone, can love anyone, and I think isn’t he right, we are all capable of loving so why is it that some of us choose not to love back, in a the most literal sense of more than us-,

soft hands grab and tease my sides-,

this earth, others, why is it that we don’t choose love even when love loves us back-, ambiguous, can you really love anyone?

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

2.5.17
Keep your love (self love..)

“..keep it, I dislike the way it comes for me like the way words have this way of cutting bodies into pieces n showing all our scars for show, fast track to live n love, seek it, find it in self before any, don’t give it unsteady, never quite right, something must be missing, before you have understood love in the form of you, can’t you see this is systematic, this is cycle, that when you fully understand you is when you will understand love, its not as difficult like we like to complicate, feelings getting caught up in unnecessary feelings, don’t let him slip, think he got upper hand, show him this hand bites back, that you can’t taste exchange words n stop without reason, anyway baby girl forget it you don’t need temporary, remember royalty in the form of loyalty in you, remember that you’re only as lovable as you love yourself first, its true, learn to show your body love before you allow it to be seduced, touched in the same gaze, you might not understand it now, but you’re as lovable as you allow being to love you first, don’t believe me..”

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

30.4.17 | 2.5.17
No. Baby.

“Don’t you see it, how these eyes can only see right through you, that it doesn’t need careless words to know how the truth sounds, like, been too many times that you been this, this heart beat, a false illusion, confused about the familiar way- you know, I can see it now, how the eyes can be blind to what they tempt, you’ve let it slip too many times n I can hear the way you’re reaching for another, maybe- your voice is now on the same loyalty as paper cuts, that you’re keeping n speaking all the mismatched words that fit perfectly into unsure, giving reason to late night, voicing words that don’t make quite as much sense, did you think you I wouldn’t find out, that when its been this, it has always been this, I have always chosen to share the begging questions of truth, sometimes with answers when most ready, watching my walls slowly brake down at my feet, that you were so close, all you had to do was look at me n you could tell, its okay, I’m now counting how many times I choose to love myself before another, learning that self love ain’t no fake love when it comes to heart beats, slowly learning to choose myself over bodies that come n go as soon as they can’t taste this anymore, still learning that you can’t easily give heart beats chances even when they tell you they are telling the truth, sometimes its better to let them go n give chance to self love- instead..”

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

24.4.17
Naked truth (dysfunction, never perfect) (self, heart beats, feeling too much + intensity..)

“..listen to its beats, steady of this mind, how it will turn your thought into interluded narration, your mind is a trapped organ, your finger tips are the only truth in this bodies narration, give it life, so much confused chaos, echoing too loud, can not exist at the same time, each heart beat will get over analyzed to a depth of imagination, the mind is a sick organ trapped in this body, you’ll feel its moods interchange its feeling until, it stops feeling like its painful to breathe, you’ll pick apart your confidence with this bodies words, unsure about which chaotic is connected to its infusion, don’t understand its conclusion, do you see, self, truth, the truth is that self is hard to manage, will always want to write as a form of plea, every poem written is encrypted with wreck, n self, its connected to feeling too much at this intensity, its always trying to mean control, can’t quite catch its pondering, call it for what this organ is feeling, this intensity must mean today is not okay, that when you’re mute to your own silence what is left, that your finger tips will shape shift into mouth, this raw inconsistency is difficult to conclude, to sit with, to breath next to, it comes when most unnecessary, will have you swallowing air before you’re ready to leave your space, before you can close the window n allow all the cool air in, wait..”

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

31.03.17
Compromise, family

“..into our personal, do we get to choose, or is it a compromise, do we compromise for family, do we choose to trust family or does, our body use its senses who can you, choose to trust if not family, right, I mean, what are the specifics that we like to, mismatch cross word blur the lines compromise, I mean hurt, I mean how long, I mean, do we compromise, should we compromise or, do we believe that there is, balance in this family, I want you to really think about, how much good necessary in the name of compromise for family, then I want you to, look at your reflection, talk to this body, yourself, the way you talk to family, as it questions n answers the way, you, would compromise for family, we give so much to others before we even give to ourselves where are the blank spaces in this, choose to separate words in the name of comfortable, words like family, like love, that we love family, we can, only honestly give what we have experienced when it comes to advice, n even then is that family, or does this not make sense, do we need to do more when it comes to, family love, how much do we compromise when it comes the words we choose to, give meaning to family, n how much we love in order for them, how do you make family understand…”