Tag Archives: Shame

Alchemy

As she looks to her past
All lined up like a circle of Mayan dominoes behind her
Each domino their own story
Their own theory on her life
A piece of her in all the worst ways
The music plays
And she sets fire to this domino maze

Dancing to a rhythm that reminds her she is not set in her ways
That her life can truly change

And as the fire circles her, it begins to fear her own flames of desire

For there is nothing more powerful than a woman free from her chains

She has seemingly reclaimed back her power.

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My Tears/Your Shame

You know the depth of my my heart
The evil that I flaunt to hide the light of my mind
The cheekiness of my smile
My sexual nature that I use to make others mine
You too see the obsession growing in their mind

But it cripples the one I want in the mind
Making them back away from my performative lies

I refused to let him see my tears
Who the true wearer of this mask is

That my ugliness would surpass any illusions of beauty
So I decided on the headiness of this strong wine
To give me the confidence to convey my lies

But you my dear guardian angel, you see my disguise and laugh at my desperation for a better life
Cutting through my inebriation with a holy knife

No more games, no more gimmicks
I give you my life
With defeated laughter and tears filling my eyes

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Modern Magdalene

She holds herself
Rocking back and forth in the cold of the night

She sits overlooking the balcony
The garden chair more eloquent than anything she had seen on this land in a while

The laughter from inside reaches her
She flinchesĀ at the onslaught on her ears.
Reminiscent of her innocence lost to her, a constant in her life, despite all her tears

She turns her face to the moon
And prays that the weight of her emotions will not kill her
For they seem to dictate her personality and disturb her rationality

Her handsome lover stumbles outside
Drunk on his own splendour and beauty
A vanity known only to Lucifer – His behaviour was pure heresy

She smiles blandly at him
Trying to prove to herself her emotions cannot crush her, that this brute’s callousness cannot break her

He gives her a mocking sideways smile
And pulls at the fabric she uses to cover her naked body, reminding her of her vulnerability

He turns abruptly and reminds her to come back in
And not to leave the guests waiting

But all she heard, was that she had not finished entertaining.

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A Salvation So Bleak

Just another sip, crisp and like vinegar in taste
I’m so close. Numb me just a little bit more. Cause my body to hit the floor.
I want to feel closer to comatose. Lusting for death, the existence of a whore.

I should feel shame at the pain
At the desperation
At how little this makes me gain
But I can do nothing but beg for more, to gain that temporary satisfaction
Bring me closer to my grave
Numb my sense and make me forget my existence upon this plane, this organised mass of dirt
It is the reason for my demise, my clotted lungs and strain on my nape

My soul is tired of the demons that dance around me
who kick out my knees for fun, in a merry-go-round about me
A pain I feel even when hope shines gently out my eyes like twilight
I’m not truly able to escape its tide
All of my hope becomes undone – this is what makes my existence feel like ice.

Black wings descend upon me
I think it is death – finally some respite
But it is my Angel’s wings come to protect me.
He looks just like me – no caricature of whiteness. The bleakness of his wings showing me the depths of the turmoil I feel within. He cares for me.
He believes in me and all that I stand for and will not stand for weight of guilt to bury me
Even the demons I flaunt explicitly, he does not shy away from them but makes them worship me.

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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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Late Graduation

Going through Primary School, Secondary School, College and University

To suddenly hit regression

To deal with our actual realisations of the world and ourselves

The curse of knowledge can often make one mad and lonely, often carrying our faces in shame, away from supposed loved ones who show no love anyway and disown our name, for we are too bereft of love to be of convenience.

The shame of our life’s failures fuelling our madness and disgrace

 

Pain in knowing those who share similar energies and hearts to us also have problems on the brain. Demons that they chase in vain often their driving force to being sane.

A pain that penetrates the membrane and sometimes manifests itself in the physical realm

 

But there is always that lone stranger.

The one that sees your pain and madness and talks to you whilst sorting out his life’s laundry.

 

This doesn’t take away from the shame but forces you to be proud of it. To wear your scars instead of being plagued by them, so those who spoke in disdain or held their faces in disgrace of you are the same ones to give your fight the energy it needs to be won.

And after the emotional turmoil

After all is said and done

We get down on our knees and cry into our guiding mother’s lap

For all the torture and pain still bore pain

 

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Sensual Awakening

Do I continue to bare myself?
Even though the fear of those whispering ‘crazy’ still haunt me?

But to run from my own nakedness has made me ignorant of myself.

So then I prepare myself for the reintroduction to myself. A coupling with thy self.

Rubbing perfumed jasmine oil behind my ears and between my thighs

Oiling myself with the sweet scent of cocoa butter

Moisturising my scalp with rose-water and castor oil

For before anyone else, I deserve the best of me.

As dawn draws nigh, the full moon reveals itself, bathing itself on my mahogany skin

The night breeze flows around my breasts as warmth radiates from my thighs and is carried off into the night air – like the embers of a wild festival fire.

As the time draws near, I sit-up, chin up, shoulders back, thighs spread on top of my calves

I kneel ready for the time of sacrifice

I am ready to sacrifice myself for the love of myself

Time to make love to myself…

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