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

Drafted love letter (receiver: self) | 13.3.19

A loose cannon mind, vulnerable to life this is how she lives, fearless and freedom in her spirit birth-right, she has exhausted everything that has buried her and shown her what chances at life could be like, there is no room to be scared of things that she can or can not control, she gives it justice, she is not scared of anything or anyone but herself, this here has been a careful failed attempt at so many times there is not enough that could amount to all the wrong that has gotten her here, effort is a representation of her soul, don’t get carried away by what you see in her, she is both conflict and solution in human form, she has these still scars that she says make her who she is and everytime they ache she is reminded of who she has been, her story is a forever written, she has undying bound to herself first, there are many ways in forms of her anarchist mind, her heart is titanium seasoned in spring, let love in and allow love to leave this is also how she has learnt herself a fearless freedom fighter, she is not censored to candy or chocolate she more like a futuristic drug, she has this will about no regrets so everything that leaves and enters her mouth is honest and forgiving, there is malaise in this type of living too, there is simply no time to allow for these types of external growths to clean her slate of imperfect favorites, she is a carried generation of women that have healed her soul, how often is it you get to see a being this untouchable, vulnerability is nothing to be scared about when you’re in love with affirmations of growth, of self, in love, into change, from heartbeats, and fall for heartstrings, we’re are all a heartache away when we await these better selves, this a breath and a slice of cheesecake with a cup of water, its looking in the mirror and unlearning bad habits from old habits, its recognizing yourself at all times, is to stand firm when you add sweetener to your coffee and feel eyes, remember the word choice it will give you full comfort to know this is a type of you that is an absolute finesse to conquering who she is first, talk your shit, you have waited your own long ago, treat yourself to your dream.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

blue headphones in talks of identity (more)| 2.3.19 – 3.3.19

Where are our limits, when we are dissatisfied from the oceans our emotions come in wave thrust along side our thoughts, must they always decide on one, I say I don’t feel equipped enough to answer the future, where do we want to go when we ask these questions that are as mischievous as our twins even the most intelligent parts of our body do not have the answer, what parts of ourselves do we have to set on fire first in order to attempt these cinematic occurrences we have been put up upon, I tell my body we must come to an understanding this is almost childs play, forgetting our souls have roamed us before we even noticed they were here, watching fire burn we’re using words in attempt to signal and spark this conversation a cycle we’ve been plotting enough to brake narrative like, how do you see something if it is simply not there, my mind tells me countless times if you see something that is not there it is also teaching yourself to see more than what is simply visible, my heart teases me about its compassion when the twins are around, using words that are familiar to our palate we’re only ever lost for words by unconscious consciousness, we are still art critics learning and unlearning a cycle of generations, brave enough to fail as many times as our body can resurrect, lessons have no identity blue print, we are all teachers in progression, there is no perfectly put layers to one of the hushest nouns defined, it never really ends it only ever really begins, and this, this is how one of the unsociable inspired ways of more.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

30.01.19 | My wish.

A conversation with my father and he is telling me flossy words I wished I heard when I was listening to his, wondering if this was the same care he would give the other half of his heart, he always tells me comfort and pillow talks of its okay wished he wishes he could do things differently with us and I want to ask him how it feels to have half of his heart, wishing he praised her the same way he praises god, we’re from two different generations and I wonder how he got to being here, want to see where all this came from, he talks in his own reality and I am still left with questions of where half his heart is left in him, is he okay leaving that kind of warmth this way, where would he ran to, he tells me mental health is important because he found me still up the top of his house one day, I remember it so well since then I wonder whether he knows it is two and not only one, 10 grams away from unstable stability, the children in his life are in half and his blood line is nowhere in this house but in half, I wonder what he dwells on, he talks about death so often I can feel the way he repeats it, this is not the first or last time, I know what it feels like to repeat death into your being so it becomes a familiar taste around here, wonder about his lost and found demons so in half about these waters, the fire in me is blazing bright blue while all the waters try to calm me from the outside, Im not sure if this is the right way to go about it but I let it happen anyway, a panic hits and I am in half most days, wondering what my whole see’s me as, I am half fire half water, whole, where thoughts go when they are misplaced in its home too, my truth is a natural disaster unsafe and serenity, a contradiction of human kind, I take my shot of Kenya coffee close my eyes and whisper mantra’s in the name of love and think, maybe its not so bad here, being a misfit this way too.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

Unfinished sanity.

An obituary, a proclaiming of myself its desires and teeth, over spilled secrets to the body we are the careless mischievous twins our childhood warned us about, this soul has been hidden too long, kept sacred sake from the mad hatter of this world didn’t see all the chaotic mismatched tones, our reflection has been undone, kissed away broken, I have allowed the attempted red carpet stained skin blushed shy of my blood welcomed love back into this being first, when you teach your body how to brake and rise each time you’re forced into your own chaos and to remember this healing, you’re rise from it all, a careful dreamer with black magic, kink royalty of unlearning and learning the mind, it has always been you and the mind, never the other way around, becoming is not new you’re the calm in it all heard time and time again over all the doubtful noise, your capacity was never the enemy, we glory preceptor to exist in this body together, harmonies our animate, create art from its process how many more can hear this type of healing too, we are the unlearned insomniacs with life lines that challenge realities, what it means to be this light and to bring us to the red table too, our fight been called down upon too long, those who underestimate the anarchy of the mind have not seen its true form, don’t know the strength it takes to at ease this mind when bad days become uncontrollably unpredictable and after your blood, we are the survivors of the past 27’s, the melodramatic panic manics that don’t know sleep, creativity rise wake with the sun and dawn the moon, we’re in constant rotation of solutions and impossible possibles there are no boundaries to this chaotic healing, when love, is attached to its meaning, we’re the cliché unstoppable, how many more rise to this reality and are able to call self survive of this captive psyche.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

These nights I find my sleep has not changed, my problem has always been the difference between my remedy telling me that it could be my personality and not this illness, sometimes I get confused, I remember my heart broke somewhere between your personality and this illness I can’t remember which part took its own life first, I’m kept awake by the problems with myself that I can not seem to fix that stay with my breath and follow me into bad decisions and lost words that are careless and still know how to break even when they come from kin, you can still taste salt, you forgot why you thought elsewhere in the first place, these things just come out you’re looking for help and guidance most a mouth to band-aid them too, sometimes its so hard to stay soft when you’re this ill and lost, there is no beginning or end, it’s a mix up, a false habit you’re trying to erase out of your system these decisions are still plaguing the body and you’re trying to find the correct outlets but your body just will not survive so you give it what it wants even though you know it will hurt you, you become this light that trusts so tirelessly when you see a temptation a way out, and after all this, you’re are left with its echoing words of what you keep telling this body over and over again, what does self-respect look like when you’re ill and stop being 10g away, how do you get your super powers back when you’re watching a wreckage smoke from the inside, how do you save yourself, what does that look like from inside the burning building, you’re a metaphor for yourself how you excuse these decisions, swear you never meant to hurt the body this way, swear you will not do it again but where does it end where do you stop, where does this kind of harm end for you, have you given up, if not what now, what’s next for a girl who has lived until 23, writes from her bedroom window, cries her own love song, doesn’t change her mistakes, and is trying to survive her mind, what happens now, how does she not give up-. What is your answer? What would you tell her?

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

im i crazy to call identity love.

A self-proclaimed psychosis narration of formatted words to meditate the mind, and at ease the body when bad days are uncontrollably unpredictable and after your blood, breathe, emotion of space that moves within the body is to exhale this frustration of uncomfort attempt to sit with its unjust child like, like adulthood manifested trauma, crazy, another word that is meant for you but is misplaced in connotations, boundaries, and this mental, discomfort, is to sit with it, to watch your own unsolved chaos a black super woman animated hero, like woman like survivor, selflove, you, what is yours, selfcare, you, a super power, irritable irrational behaviors that maneuver in and out of this body like permission to self, like it was normal, what is normal anyway, self, who do I see myself as when and without this state of mind, an actual metaphor of this is the rain, a contradiction of identity and misplaced answers that hit this heavy are to never be forgotten, identity, notice how quick you’re to save your name next to love, identity has always been love, others, there are no others, they are my precious heartbeats each pulse is remembered into my being this way, relationships remind me of flowers in the spring, and the rain, three of my favorite human languages this, its no secret now, habits, loving harder is to admit its self in and out of me these heartstrings are internal external loves, fixing our broken hearts for the sake of our identity, souls, are both in complicated super power love and care, heartbeats is compassionate black super woman a pulsed warning of heartstrings words aimed like identity, self, relationships, always this, it is no secret now, a psychosis narrated formatted words to meditate the mind and at ease the body, when bad days are uncontrollably unpredictable and after you always, always this goes back to love-, lullaby. black woman. identity. heartbeats. and maybe heartstring now too.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

its nearly spring.

I’ve always seen myself in different lives, thought about how I could really make a difference in my own way, I’ve thought about what are the chances that we all get into a state of mind that motions our existence how we like to see ourselves how we really see ourselves I think its important to not take opinions that even from our purest depths that choose to eat at this body in sorts of manifestations that are not in correlation of present but past tense and unarmed sometimes, I think balance is a solution to a lot of outcomes, when I think of the narrative surrounding identity its forever entwining with my variables, I’ve learnt that I don’t always have to be strong and who I am is not afraid but has uncanny behaviour that revolves around making kin and those close by my breath feel unbothered by breakdowns that I forget my own body in this space, it had been so long I keep almost forgetting what its like sometimes, when you have tendencies to be cold because you do not understand your own mental you’re practising what its like to be okay forgetting that you’re are an emotionally intelligent being and yes that sometimes means that your smile, your eyes will not match your words but you will still try because you care about how you make kin feel in this presence, you’re trying to break away from the mind and be present, what a contradiction, a life you’re living that is both complicated and compassionate in the same body-, a breakdown. for who. the rain.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

4.8.18 | honesty’s ego

I have been capitalizing my spare time with chaos and conversation around a type of self that is coming to terms with a truth, ultimately, when you make mistakes in the blood of others you have to be ready for the imploding downfall of its reparations, there is choice with every intention and sometimes we are so quick to choose temptation over what is the right thing to do, when you cross over truth you cannot call on your name whisper sweet words coated in honey even you are capable of sweet talking yourself into clout, you say you favor honesty, be critical about the way you over share yourself this body is both self-destructive and hope encased in flowers in the same algorithm, you, are not safe from your words remember, choice is a repercussion of its representation, be both gentle and careful when you bark at not only yourself but others, do not sweeten your mistake call it for what it is, this, this is how you heal and sugar cane honesty for its true class, be brave enough to allow uncomfortable into honesty’s pride when you misplace your choices into its ego, deem there will always be consequences for its bark, do not make light of its claim, or be ready for its noise.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

22.6.18 | a LIVE dream

I’ve been existing and accumulating enough of myself to attempt to understand my two worlds, been at a loss with both sensations both double meanings and its past present form, now its bringing new frame on my clout to its own estranged fantasies, identity has always been a layering conundrum, finding it unfathomable to attach me at such a replaceable pace of words to the parallel of an evolving being, I don’t believe in strict definitions of ourselves when we live in a time warp of unexplored galaxies planets lost spaces enough apart with dream like futuristics you’re capable of being crazy and sane at the same time just the same mind games of what is in fact “normal” and strange to the naked body almost alike, I conclude skies because I believe we’re greater than what already exists, that’s why when I bleed self care and love it is also a sign for the bodies that feel the same ache who struggle to be understood in a world covered with so much mouth and not enough eyes, who fearlessly care for others and forgot about their own breath in the same capacity, empathy can easily turn you into apathy be careful of its schooling, you’re to swear into this body the way it has learnt to adapt in a planet that dose not care about its own healing, lose yourself in minds that explore boundaries from existential bearings these intentions are lacking in both worlds, although the feeling is combined by stranger meanings its masses already stronger and monetized in my dreams before it learns to come to life first, the world is not ready for such love, still suffocating on experiments that are laughable in the presence of those who reap this kind of reward, pause, you’re permission enough-, alive dream.