Monthly Archives: July 2016

My Secret Fire

Sometimes I lament how cold I have become

I try to cry

But I laugh instead, as bitterness wraps itself around my spine.

 

They think I don’t feel

When the problem is, I have felt too much

 

The pain of suffering from the words of a loved one

The shame of loving someone who only sees me as a bit of fun

Or a crutch for their numerous fucking problems

 

A plain canvas that they paint as they wish

No care for who exists behind

A washed out model for a controlling designer

 

So I grew cold as their callous ways doused my fire

Slightly bitter as my light flickered

 

Growing repulsed by their presence

I sought to put myself out

 

But I couldn’t fully achieve it

As their breeze would painfully rekindle my ashes

 

A small flame would burn,

hidden behind a secret bush I had planted

 

So they did not see the flame that burnt

But instead, they would assume

They would only see the forest in the night and feel the cold breeze pinching upon their shoulders

The cold gave them a fright

They would run far into the night

Not realising that I always had light

They just didn’t have the right eyes to pass.

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Modern Ms Baker II

Dance dance dance

You can be like these carefree black girls on tv too

You can break out of the highrises and blocks that suffocate you too

 

You just gotta dance and prove you’re worth it too

And remember

Don’t complain.

Because if you complain Modern Ms Baker, they’ll say you’re clinically insane and act mundane to your pain

 

So don’t complain.

 

Not even when these men fondle your small breasts

Or make asinine requests

Or when they forget to pay you

And shame you for your success

 

You dance dance dance

Half naked, brazen and for their entertainment

Unashamed and so amazing

Alluring and captivating

The very best

They love to hate you.

They ask “Ms Baker, do you not have any respect”

 

People at home will shun you

For you are no more different in their eyes from a common sket

 

But remember to dance, dance, dance

My Modern Ms Baker

 

Your bed has been made and kept

A grave made by your struggles and success.

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My Heart’s Nerves/7:42am

A systemic disease that starts in the mind and eats away at the soul
Continuously making one search the stars and the earth below for things that can only be found within me

Entering healing waters only to have my scars permanently etched and aching
Pained and broken, I drag myself to the nearest doctor and ask for a physician, a therapist anything to bring me that light again
But then I wonder if the darkness is my light
If this is my road or path in life. To constantly seek the light

When I stumble and when I fall, that is not the be all and end all

I need to take grasp and hold of my sanity
Of the important things; the callous words of others that ring in my ears are nought but society’s ideals
And no ideals are more important than my own, the ones my ancestors chose before me and the ones that have plagued my conscience since I was young

I am tired of the vanity.
Tired of the unrealistic appeal.
I wish to see the ugly before the beautiful
The real essence of a world is not the luxuries it has to offer but the perseverance of a people in hardship

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Bathroom Babes 2

Crush it up
Crush it up
Put that molly in some tissue
Drop a bomb or take a shot
Bitter in your mouth but nothing like the grinding that’s on the come up

Then you got a next girl tryna sober up
Thinking of a way out of her numerous emotional ruts
Washing her hands with cold water in hopes her mind will be made up
Scared of all the strangers her mind comes across
An unfamiliar tug.
Another nigga wants to try his luck
Better luck next time, she aint tryna be a mug

A babe that’s tryna catch that high
The pebbles aint enough in comparison to those stones you’re thinking of
So she tries everything on the scene
A glass table girl, what the fuck is a bit of lean
She’s tryna look at her pupils and check if this is the widest they’ve ever been

Bathroom babes with so much issues
In a club they aint ever gonna miss you
In a party they may or may not kiss you
You got that one freak that might even fuck you
But all these bathroom babies got one thing in common
And that’s that they all got their issues.

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Open Philosophy

What is it?
This demon?

Can make you twist your words
Confused and hot-tempered
Calm you like the winds
And ready your body like an animal for mating season

Yearning for more even though you never even realised you said yes?

The air of mystery producing fertility in the mind

Seeds not yet sown reaping fruit that feels divine

And yet, it could seemingly all be a lie

How can something with so many rules and regulations be stress free?
And yet I’m stimulated mentally, as if reading a whole book on philosophy
Each page intriguing me with every turn
I just hope one day it doesn’t set fire and completely burn

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A Whole New World

The difference in appreciation and representation is real
It’s never quite the same when it’s right in front of you

You think you love it
You think you can accept it
You think you understand it

But the truth is you’re just as lost as the masses
A total freeloader from the reality that is your minute idea of representation

Or maybe you were never quite attuned to it
Unstable in your reactions to reality
So you sought an escape route.
Something to hide the pain and displacement in your soul.
Something to feed your interest into
Some how hoping it would free you.

But the truth is my dear Diasporan or African
Is that the realities are different and so are the histories
It will never be one and the same

History that gives birth to present day ignorance and suffering
A reality that guarantees absolute safety despite lack of graces.

Two completely different worlds.
And it’s possible for you to be an Alien in both.

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