resistance
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Living my life like it's golden.Living my life like im chosen.I am no longer broken.I am beholden, unfolding.Say in motion like the ocean, rolling.
Well I walked outside on the earth that remains
And let the greedy crows pick at my brain
With forgiveness and gratitude for their primitive ways
And with a thought lingering on the break of day
Confined in these lines, how much movement is mine
How much deviance is permissible without going too far as to be
Unacceptable
Unaddressable
Unprofessional
Everything suddenly changed, beneath the ground that started to split
She thought her feet were on solid ground, a truth she brought herself to admit
The sun could only shine for so long, while a million suns sustained her world
Corroded shells in pale robes drag gilded chains behind their feet.
They and their disciples of cracked skin and downturned lips
Are on a holy mission:
Spread the darkness.
Corroded shells in pale robes drag gilded chains behind their feet.
They and their disciples of cracked skin and downturned lips
Are on a holy mission:
Spread the darkness.
Adults taught us that everything is ok
Adults also taught us to obey everything they say
So is not obeying also ok?
This question, this one flaw in the popular way of thinking
Got me thinking
Dear Artemisia,
When you were a teenager,
You were raped by your tutor,
A friend of your fathers.
When you were a young adult,
Your father sued your rapist,
For destruction of property,
People say whatever they want without knowledge
“1st amendment,” they say.
We are different in every way, and that’s what’s beautiful.
Our country 'tis of thee,
Sweet land of liberty,
To you I sing;
White men signing abortion laws
That kill women for no cause
Can you not see your flaws?
Let freedom ring
While I feel that we should remember the past
learn from it
mourn it
grow from it
No one else remembers how.
So we drown
You learned of witches, and never to come near,but did they ever tell you what to fear?
For we’ve so much in common, we’re just like you,
I love to play with matches too.
I have a story
A story of powerA story of cultureA story of familyA story of resistance
I hate how the word hopeimpersonates a pleasant state of being
How it whispers wishful whimpers
Soft promises to keep my heart beating
As if I need to hold on
1993
Westside
Sunset Boulevard
SoCal
Los Angeles California
Bring you back to the silver DeLorean, flux capacitor
We got that hover board under the seat.
Working as a cashier
while being black
teaches you a few things,
but none so important as this:
people assume you've done nothing
with your life because of the job you have.
My saving grace is my wit.
I never could understand
The need to cut
To want to harm your flesh
Hot blood rivers
If you're already in pain
Why would you want
To cause more suffering
It makes no type of sense
