Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

Roll the credits in Purple ink|10.12.19

I’ve been thinking a lot about the come up, how we hustle and grind into a new age, a chance to change to who we are meant to be, I’ve been clocking in and out of my body sometimes the arguments and defeats get in the middle of us so loud in here sometimes we can feel it break our heart, there is so much at stake when it comes to moving into a way about yourself, we have never forgotten who we are, never believed we were any less worthy of our dreams on some days this is also the untruth, we are so capable of vulnerability we open scars we never knew hide so deep into us we have always been searching for her soul too, 2018 the day we decided to chase after our dream here the most when this path weren’t so tricked, when they didn’t set us back but learnt our character, our role play enough to set us back, made us watch the aftermath with our hearts this honest, how this began to trigger more and more of her fired intuition into the mind, we started thinking clearly about a path that we had intention into so much fight you kept learning to break differently this made you move riotously, you were all in accordance to a life purpose, each day you were reminded about how this fight is never ending that when you find yourself doing what you love you’re growing in a way that can not be stopped by anyone not even yourself, self is addicted to her higher purpose so hard she been holding back too long, baby’s mental is on some past 27 shit, know she be writing these melodies until she is given back to the earth, you can never stop dreamers in cold worlds from keeping alive here too-. Keep watching this space but be careful of her magic she is never afraid to show you all she has spellbound.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

Collins St (Location: Dreamy book shop.) | 4.12.19

I’m never scared of it at all, I’m not the kind of person who cowers into moonless rope rooms, the ways we speak our love language into existence has always been carried by our way of purple hearts, never to be timid into the aftermath words and its drift importance we all have our part to play, they are not who I am nor who I could also be, they exist for my own disposal and for you to me, my lovable point of respectable kink is to speak to love as is to close my eyes and vanish into the real world, I am the playful character with purple skin she is loving living her life here too, she loves effortlessly without telling love until she hears a familiar feeling her purple heart is both fire and water she knows this too well, every word has a sweet tenderness, a taste of the way it curves and learns to overflow in the mouths, so many planted seeds we open our eyes and walk right into our dreamscape here too, the irony is both intended and wishful, we are always this whimsical after spending loving time with love, we imagine our chosen solitude the real purple print, the combination of beautified awareness does not have to be something we are afraid to affirm because baby scares the unknown too, the mind, body, spirit, truth and unity all within one soul this is what bliss could also look like, I have said this more than I can ever care to admit, words are fooled with double meanings never not what you think it could also be, there is always a ways about it all, do not be a fool for and with human made’s-. At times I wonder at how I view love, I look at it in me and wonder about its intensity, I look at its devotion into others and wonder about its passion, then I wonder about its future, what does love really want from us, and I can’t stop hearing my mind, my heart tending to my mind thoughts, the twins present here too and I watch them say “enough.” We are all at a lose when we come to truly know about the harshness of how we look at who we are trying to connect ourselves to words sometimes more to who we are becoming, its so stupid simple to let the alphabet eat you alive, fill us up without knowing in us first, you know what I mean?

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

24.11.19 | Flamed Air.

Flame, I can feel it when you tell me that these two worlds are nothing alike, that I can still fall this far in and not catch myself here, too many times have I begged at freedoms air, I can see it how we are worlds apart and only here can we find ourselves more into us first, when you make words look so easy misplacing its reality into this world here first you’re loosing my sparked soul more each wasted breathe more inside of my world here first, this fire sweet type of intimacy is hard to lie into, those who understand the attention that fire brings burning in the rain know how it holds space, know a soul this unconditional you would never want to loose her telepathy, in her eyes, when will we learn more into mistakes, our pleasures deepest desires, minds of capable awakenings only to be silenced by themselves first have they forgotten their dream here too, have you forgotten how to be with yourself too, many sky’s ago I felt your warmth here, this is the first time I am truly giving my breath the permission it needs to what is means for me to let you go energetically, we are two souls bound to each other allowing and living different life paths, destined to smoke us alive depending on how we love unconditionally, we’re majoring about what it honestly takes for and from our soul within, deep down your inner child is blocked within walls, is still forced to look into their mirror and face their feared psyche of being loved or lover, how this is also finding its way to ground us both sometimes, I am a sparked flame to her own here the most, you were stolen air tightening around my neck, she is learning to ash what is left resting in her about you as she give my being to her highest self, I never want to stand still this way longer than I have out grown a type of love, you can not learn to waste your worth even when you feel it’s divine-. If you meet a soul that does not know how to choose themselves first, well, you’re walking into calculated direction, you’re only able to love the way you’re still unconditionally yours first, we know this too often, it is only until we read this out loud we are able to hear ourselves clearly, over, and over again until we are able to hear it clearly over and over again. -A Mantra.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

14.8.19 | Dove.

How do I love now, I write you into the places I have found you into my soul, a part of our whole, a beating heart that feels a lot like a home, its a lot like the way it feels watching the rain, its something like finding a whole that speaks my love language and we match intensities, that part might just be the water Venus in me, its nothing like these flowers, I need a worthy flame to match, its being able to surrender to the air around me and liking it, the way it feels with you is the same as when I get to spend the day with my soul surrounding myself with my favorite words, its the feeling of the days where I am silly happy for no tangible reason, moments where I understand the feeling of touch, and stop making love out to be so matter of fact, truth is love isn’t always as logical as we may love it to be, when emotions are involved no matter how much we fight its feeling it will still rise the only way it knows how best, honestly, my love is how it feels to kiss you without any fear, how it feels when you take my hands into yours, its looking into each others souls, loving is knowing my worth is matched in energy and high vibration, they say the way law of attraction works is easy, yet I’m not sure its so easy to know what you want and know what you’re willing to love about souls no matter how much you realize you fill each other, maybe this is also part of being enough into love, I guess I understand that a love connection is something like creating a whole with each others honest selves, like a whole new world, like hearing words like we belong together spoken out loud and remembering that love could be centered at courage.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

13.8.19 | Lit up identity.

Imagine a soft voice of rain, imagine a warm space with two chairs sitting across from each other, I have this theory, that if I can’t sleep when its dark it means I am waiting to dream some more, there’s intentional placements about the night that gives me the most comfort, I can’t really quite explain it all for myself yet, I find the silence asks me about my most intimate desires without any judgment, I have come to crave the way it creates our intimacy, teaches me to ache for my own soul this way first, its an anticipated gentle conversation with my body care free of interruptions, I multiply myself the most here too, and rain candidly here in love too, these nights are my dreaming fables true alter ego-, But I do not judge her process, I make room for her passing, create necessary space for another type of love another type of me-, Night dreaming is a soul mate kind of home, it doesn’t always feel like anything yet just being seems to be enough, this is reminded into us both, sometimes gratitude, some affirmations, strings that held us back watching them melt away from our tree house warmth, life seems much easier in the dark for me, much lighter up here too, the familiar Melody of Being Animate breathes much intense in here, its as though I can know the true lust of words from this silver sky, this is the wake in my care that I can burn the most present, its a cold flame displaced near others without my really knowing, an air like there shouldn’t always be answers for everything yet, I am told my body adores my soul so my path is in everything that aligns with its patience, I’ve been seen to become watchful of my own, a mindful fixer upperer mad of loyal devotion, extensions of you don’t always have to make sense of things that bewilder your identity here yet, sometimes its enough to just let yourself get carried away by the rain, its not fair on your soul to deny yourself the will it desires the most even when it doesn’t match what you need, -More than often having what you didn’t want, is having what you didn’t know you needed, what our body needs is what we want-, This is my warm Smokey candle lit essence warped dreamer in the night-, Her only penetrated fear is herself.

Poetry: Melody of being Animate

17.7.19 – Making decisions for the life of you.

I’m thinking its left for interpretation, I’m thinking be assertive this way in other parts of your gratitude, I’m thinking we are human so no one is safe from broken connections, gusto waves that do not serve our highest beings are simply interchangeable, I’m thinking we all have a default, we all come made unknown, how some of us are curious about what closeness is and some of us couldn’t care less, how our values could be so different we are not human enough or merely human though we see the world in colours, taste in numbers, how some of us couldn’t care less about honesty and others care more about their own hearts, how there’s a way about it all, and there is, we are all the courage to be disliked and some are consistent on using words that change their lives, this way is how I also feel the world, the choice is both a conflict and simple state of mind, nothing makes sense or it makes too much sense and the fear to cower is shown into us, of how unknowing has never been so apparent into our homes this harshly first, suddenly the thing about self is that we are all living proof, some of us haven’t awakened our beats and the rest, well, they are dormant, some sleeping along side them touching heads and who are we,- I’m thinking about being locked up in libraries I could read here forever, this small daydream of mine, I am not afraid to brake or disappear one day, I have to accept this will happen with or without my energy well protected, I don’t ever want to stand still stagnant in how my life is lived, I want to remember my life as the protagonist that lived her own nightmares, the girl who battled her mind and chose life instead of existence, I want to be the person I know I am capable of resurrecting she is dragon bodied belly full blue flames and purple magic re-birthed alike, a brave act each time she faces her self she it met with forms of darkness, her life is the constant commitment of unlocking her own downfalls her courage is the fussy ability of turning them into weapons of intuition, she likes the intensity of the pain that comes with this type of healing, most will not see the importance of this healer, she does not shame her scars, it is the will of her that scars her skin this way the most, this is how she keeps the spark in her life, every word, narrative can be flipped she knows this too well,- So that when I die, I can say I have lived a dangerously envious life.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

14.7.19 – rafiki yangu.

Mother tells me you’re too soft, she tells me her love for me is so abundant that she fears those who I allow into my space, thinks I only see others in magic lights and moon dust, and I want to tell her that yes she is right, tell her that my body has known too much to give up on others and myself, I can bare the pain, told her I can forgive most anything but dishonesty, said that there a many of me protecting my home the ways her and dad taught me second, the first is in my choices, when someone asks my home for my care about advice I am a warm lit room that can not refuse their visits, we have also known these types of vulnerabilities so it is not in me to never listen, my voice has been unheard for as long as I am aware, always known as soft, and not fire, I make sure I look my mother in her eyes and say I have always been both, when you feel your home being misunderstood its this pent up battle you have been having with your past and future self, it is not words you can say without carefully observing about its receiver, it is a misfortune of amber blue flames, the words just don’t seem to come out the way you feel them to, is it not enough to exist through these hardships and come out alive but to furiously bury them, you do not remember yourself to be this way, this is not how your light shadow deals with conflict, there are versions of myself and all of us living amongst these happenings, depending on your spirit, watch your lessons well, when you understand your own down falls and raisings first you understand places of yourself you have yet to over grow, your way of keen for knowledge in the most turbulent consistent way it is not for everyone to grasp if not for yourself only, you do not answer to any being first if not for who you’re healing from first, knowledge is becoming of us all it is how we use it and find its access that gives us purpose in the first place, I can truly speak as someone who allows room for others first it is never an easy task to put myself before those who have had space into my heart, as a forceful dreamer I can honestly advise I am not a home that carries predictability well, so when you come for my soft spots I will gladly return the favor in ways you did not know possible, this is not a warning, it is a gift for your home, and your next choice of honesty.

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.

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

Burning Spring Love. (fell from the sky.) | 15.5.19

hey love, kiss me, tell me you can bring down the sky for me, tell me the stars ain’t nothing compared the way I make you feel like without this love there is no other matched to what I am with you. tell me how you found us, tell me all your hidden secrets, tell me you’ll listen to my silence even when its raining, tell me how much you love spring, the way it leaves us to love harder, how talks like this are the best kind of kink, I remember when you asked me what passion was to you, how you could taste it near my lips, how close we are to sparking these flames, nothing like spring in late November, write me away, use your words, tell your fingers to stop misbehaving next to flames this bright, tell me again how you can not leave my burning spring, how you’re not afraid to lose me, how we ache apart enough to close any lost words, sometimes we may burn buildings and ask the spring to leave, the way you understand how I love, how my hands are the place you feel the safest, how my voice is reason for it all, learn me more of your scars, tell me how you keep that voice, how you love so hard, we are both this way, both melting into each other, you don’t agree with me, we fight about how our voices both hold our love, how they cradle something this inherited, how we wind each other up, how we love to hear our love out loud, there’s nothing more dangerous than love.