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: Melody of Being Animate

2.8.17
Save

I have this really overwhelming feeling that’s doing what it does best when anxiety starts to hit it can only watch and position to catch this kind of stardust, so many times has it been this much only to forget how much it has been save, been hero, forgot too often about its wings, forgot too often about god, see the word forgive in your eyes, this body, this body forgives the mind, not unwanted anymore only heal, late night no sleep, woke mind eased at the attempts of sister sister, calling out her name like all this air, surrounding self with all this feeling could choke on such intensity doesn’t understand that this is too much for me to handle sometimes, and remedy, remedy isn’t here sometimes, I want to be caught by love, I want love to want to catch me, call out my name and cling to the curves on this body, to want this body a blessing come from god to me, from me to you, you’re a blessing in love-, I am afraid of what it means to love a healing body that knows her truth, with the fabled mind that only knows how well it tricks, and a heart weak at love, words that are too beautiful for this world can’t see the lines in between, so sweet the taste is what I imagine it to taste nothing like, still, waiting on words that have motion that come correct with a kind of body that knows not to take a true self for granted, soon, I am whispered, in soon.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

24.7.17 | 26.7.17 | 27.7.17
Beautiful

Do you see, how we have been taught to cower at mirrors the way we shy away from this kind of creation, how the roots of our hair is to deify gravity, how we been conditioned by a system that likes to keep us in trend, wanting to learn our hair matched to theirs but never these roots, never these kinks, do you see, the ways we’ve been told how this skin should never know flowers, such beauty is unattainable, starting with these shades, do you see, hidden between compliments that are snatched right back after its been taking from the back of our throats, the ways in which we see this skin has affected the how we live this life, unapologetic, soft, fire, black, woman, that there is nothing wrong with feeling like you’re beautiful everyday, sneak kisses into this body so it knows true love from within, to know how this body hugs you back is to know how to love yourself first, when you witness its secrets like petals that fall into your palms, is one of the most beautiful photosynthesis there is, how we can see love glimmer in loves eyes the way they are careful with their words, mention them as sweet, and honest, in the same sentence as much as it demands, you have never, been pretty for a black girl, don’t listen to these kinds of poison dipped potions, this skin has been strong, and shackled to never to brake at those who don’t understand its nooses, that having this type of history, that knows how back bone from the lines measured identity in vines of our hands means, to be able to reach out and grab this kind of love back, this kind of unity, self love, and care can never be known by just anybody, you’re permission and solution in your own matched womanhood, see this alive the way we look at words like love, like self, like care, beauty, kind, like identity, like and still black, be the persona of woman that is this much magic to her own reflection, undone, from those who peel back at this skin not knowing how much love it has taken to be bright light shine, back at the mirror in front of her, in front of you, bare all your secrets sheen enough for those who are deemed magic bliss, glimpse this being a shooting star miracle from her birth right which is to see how far you have come all on your own, do you see, how your reflection is magic, your existence is defiance, that you have always been this kind of woman.

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

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

9.7.17

The human body is a defiant build, it does not like to be forgotten so easily, played so well by others who shame its kindness their words becoming blades before something so sweet watch how quickly they devour you whole, have you ever had someone tell you we belong together weak at words that rest on the crescent of their smile, your happiness bestowed in their being how unfortunate to see how this kind of scene play out your eyes weep for its forgotten happiness so pure, this feeling so weak, careless silly, the heart weak do not flutter at the attempt of words that have broken you you’re not chained to its absolute, watch over this body well, self-care is never a glimmer it is never to be overlooked as conceded learn to fall in love with yourself first what other being breathe into this body, this good body alive that could mimic this kind of love but yourself, look at this being a muse, you’re not to be cheated by those who tell you otherwise.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

9.7.17

bound, I have found what it meant to be an overplayed song, said that this body has been scared by those who have not even had the privilege, when I think about what it means to see honesty in their eyes I imagine it must be like a suffocating thing to look at something they could own if they could just get what they wanted, a thing, this body, I can not help but see this as a cycle for burring trust to those who say they speak the truth, so easily, claim an unopened pandora you have been miming at this body promising this will be the last, had to watch the heart suffer at the attempts of double edged knifes, a hoax, you are now forced to exempt this cycle this state so familiar how do you do this kind of trust so easily

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.