tobeheardslam
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people will never recognized a simple girl.
who is like other girls, simple as a paper flower.
who really is nothing compare to the real flowers.
whose color and petals are different from others.
Pecking at the rooftops,
Rain comes down, rain comes down.
Slipping through soft spots,
Take me down, take me down.
He sees my weakness,
dancing across the stars that are the sparkle in my eye,
Punctuating the end of freshman year was the annual four day Mammoth Lakes tripThe trip not only developed an appreciation for the natural world but also a profound discovery within me
The intensity of every beat of my heart
electrifies when we depart.
You have been gone for so many years
over this time I shed so many tears.
This emptinessI feel in my chest
Some nights I sit in my room, thinking about every possible thing,
Doomed for nothing but sadness.
When I'm driving,
I think about my life, my regrets, what I forget,
But most importantly I think about you.
If i was to ask you
Who are you?
What would you tell me
Would you tell me your name
or Simply ignore me
Or remain silent
'Cause you don't know the answer
Who are you?
To me,
Poetry is self-expression.
It doesn’t follow a form
Or structure
Real poetry is RAW.
When I write,
There’s nothing pretty about it.
I get in this zone,
Where I feel like
Too long
You've been gone for far too long
Our laughter should be in my ears again
Our frivolous hearts, once again clever
Trudging through the mud
Powerful Women
Part I
People are afraid of powerful women…I think.
My mama once told me “beware of sparks.”
Because sparks are usually the beginning of something bigger
Of a fire
Dark skinned.Light skinned.Red skinned.Pale skinned.Tall girls.Short girls.Fat girls.Skinny Girls.
You said to me, "I am Lost"
So I etched the constellations
in every freckled part of my skin,
so you would always know where you came from
when you traced your fingers across my hips.
Smile so white and mind so bright.Sweetest girl but not afraid to fight.Eyes so pretty, voice like a lark.Within ever kiss I expect sparks.
“GO BACK TO THE KITCHEN”
I stand there with my cookies and my signup sheet
Surrounded with signs I spent all night making
‘gender equality matters’
It seems to whimper
I am a rose with a thorn,
left with no feeling or soul.
So you might think?
This rose has fought Depression,
and still here stranding strong.
I have my thorns sticking out firm.
Flowers Bloom.
Flowers weep
Flowers grow
Flowers die.
Flowers are beauty to every a man's eye.
If flowers were not their….
how would we understand the rhetorical meaning behind the
Games of the heart are not easily won.
Is there victory when the battle is done?
Loss of blood will occur on both sides.
They aren't just scars
They are demons
I fought at 00:00
They are my insecurities
My deepest fear
And my lonely nights
They are my insults
I have recieved and the
Emotion I can't contain
ten thousand bullets headed your way
what do you do?
run and have hope you'll make it out alive?
or just stand there and wait for the outcome?
the first couple of hits might hurt like hell
Ballin on a budget
My struggles ill never forget
Everyone saying Ill never make it
A vision that keeps me persistent
$1 biscuit keeps me fed
Little by little one two step
Ballin on a budget
We were two minds into oneYour fight was mineMy tears shed through your eyesWe believed that our strings would never be cutUntil I shredded it to peices and walked away
I need an escape, all of this pain bottled up inside of me.
Tears waiting to burst out.
I've cried a river, but there's still an ocean left.
Hurt and confused.
Life is a living hell, can't you see?
O lost and forgotten ones,
Thou and thy daughters and sons,
Thou that lived, and breathed, and died,
And spoke, and laughed, and cried.
O poor and broken heart,
This...
This is settling.
Sitting here with you
Staring at this static fuzz on the TV screen,
Listless, blank, and melancholy.
We gave up so long ago,
I am Miwok, not a Mascot. Take me off.
I am not Red, my skin has many tones.
I do not wear a headdress, I wear a Ta muk u lay.
I do not raise my hand resembling a stop sign to say hello, I shake hands and hug.
Dear Friend,
You might remember me,
As everyone’s favorite punching bag
If life is like a box of chocolate,
Mine is bittersweet
She called upon me to aid her,
to stop the crying. Her crying
is a marathon runner who can never reach the finish line.
I’m no savior, but I’m the only one
left to care.
my father does not cryi've seen him do this twice before in my lifeonce, when his father passedonce, when he moved out for good
i do not cry
Ding.
A mallet comes down on the railroad track.
Ding.
A bead of sweat travels down my forehead and rolls down my neck.
Ding.
Another stretch of railway is laid for people much richer than I.
Ding.
Too good to be true,
Me
And you.
People warned.
People judged.
But I didn't care.
I was falling in love.
A mysterious pair
As we stare
Into blank looks,
Once so full of life.
The pain is torture enough.
It hurts to see life from day to day.
I wish I was painless so I can go to sleep and be a kid again.
This painless life is something else isn't it?
Do you ever feel like you are made of glass—
Ever trying to reflect the sumptuous nature of the light
Scratched but not yet broken
On the brink of shattering into far too many pieces to reconstruct you
I am no child
I am an investment.
I am no human
I am a number.
There is no love
Only obligation.
And beauty
is but a broken compass of the heart.
Did you ever really care
Or I am an element forgotten like air.
Did you ever claim me as yours
My skin burns where your hands once were like acid on light flesh.
I've taken four showers today to try to wash away the pain but your handprint stays on my porcelain skin.
And outside, life Is cold.
The trees are as bare as my bones are hollow,
and through the chains over my window
I can see the world outside-
Moving.
It's all still moving, without me.
Everyday is a living day
As i see people come and go by
For some people is tragedy
For some others is heaven
Twenty-two seven,
Wandering in the streets
Writing my life on these sheets
People need help everyday,
and it never comes.
Millions are starving
but we do not hear their cries.
Instead
we are concerned with our hair and our clothes.
Prisoner of Words Unsaid
For so long
For so long I've been a prisoner
A life sentenced prisoner for a crime they committed for me
Like Alicia Keys "I'm a prisoner of words unsaid
I just wanna go back
Cause I feel like I’m in a trap
I swear it felt like a heart attack
Like I fell off track
Are we borne of it or do we cause it?
Are we victims to the destined or just
Unknowing puppets stuck in a pit?
We'll be free when he puppets turn to dust.
Can we break this vicious loop? No matter
Some write to be read,
Some dress to be seen,
Some ask to be answered,
Some taste to be filled,
And speak to be heard.
I write to express myself to the world.
I dress for the mirror.
In two years I watched my 6 foot, 240 pound father waste away to a ghost
At 14 I woke up everyday
and went to school knowing he was sick
I cried with him when he lost his hair
Happy were the days when I played with my brother
Then all of a sudden, we got called in one after the other.
We sat down, him with my sister and me with my mother.
Confused and slightly nauseous, she told me the news.
Each day it's the same
It's a constant mental game
Do I work for the almighty coin?
Is that where happiness and comfort join?
Does the value really exist in a dollar?
You are so smart,
They say.
So much potential,
They say.
You'll be great,
They say.
Just get your test scores up,
They say.
32 isn't good enough.
“12.2 million tweets related to Syria since August 21st, and 19 million tweets about the VMAS in 1 day.”
She has come a long way.
Catholic statehood in her thigh gap,
She fears to be recognized.
Rattling off words, i often find myself pondering why I let you in.
I spark back at you any words that quickly
flow out of my my mouth...
But why?
What for?
As if you came looking for me.
Fluency is not as easy as it seems,
Rolling off the tongue gently and slowly,
Spilling out of the mouth.
Spewing out of the closed chops,
onto a blank page.
Blanknes tends to tire the restless mind
A wise author wrote "Pain demands to be felt"
It's inescapable like bullets with no names.
They come so fast and cause so much pain but yet the shooter feels nothing.
There are such lines to which I am confined.
They are invisible, yet tangible.
Strong, yet changeable.
These lines are here to limit:
To show the traits I truly exhibit.
I was taught to live outside of the box
But never told which box to live outside of.
So as I constantly dare to be different,
I cause myself to be boxed in
By the boxes I tried to get out of.
I would never explain the first moment I felt it
and I could never reveal how it was the first conversation we had
because even if I did admit it
The parade comes marching through the town
Knocking on windows, tearing our black shrouds down
Beating their drums in merciless rhythms,
Only then do we notice the apparent schism.
He’s finally coming to visit
Everyone else seems cheerful
I feel worried, more than anything
After all, it has been two years
The day, finally here
We meet
We smile
We grew up and old like vines,
growing along the same trellis
our stories weaving together in a heap of curling photographs and triggering memories
crossing back over the same twenty or thirty times we saved each other.
Listen to me! Listen to me! My childhood is gone--long gone, not lost but stolen.
Can anyone save our minds?
Now like a sieve in the sand
Soon there will be none left to find
Instead, we are kept busy with our hands
The base of knowledge, smoldering in flames
Racing through the paths of your own mind.Sometimes it's scary to explore your entire self.You're surprised to find what's hidden back there.The monsters, the ghouls, remind you of who you truly are.
I write to be heard
By the little corner mouse,
Who sits sipping tea serenely in her trap.
I write to be heard
By the angriest hornets,
A locked heart,
Chained inside.
Fearful of injury,
It wants to hide.
Imminent pain gets stronger,
Day by day,
Searching for happiness,
It seems astray.
Life looks hopeless,
Red colors the back of my eye lids as warm rays beat down on my skin. The crisp tropical air hugs my body as I stare at the sun and can’t help myself as a smile slowly creeps onto my face.
I don’t want to be heard.
I want to be listened to.
What’s the sense if the listener doesn’t comprehend?
Or want to comprehend
I need to borrow a pair of well used ears
I don’t understand why you can’t see
Sometimes I need to do things for me
Not for you or for your family
Just me me me me!
It’s not selfish to work on myself
I have to admit, that sometimes I need some help
Like day time
In the dead of nigh
The goodness of the world
Shining so bright
So strong you can hardly see
So powerful
You can hardly breathe
Leading the way
My Happy Place is where I have friends, books, sports, and music.
It is usually general like that but sometimes it is specific.
It all depends on how I feel at the time and who is involved.
I heard I got a deadline and I'll be gone in 1 year
I have tears for you for when I leave I'll be in your hearts
I'll be inside of you for I'm that kind of person
Who would not be forgotten by a lot of people
I love beautiful Blue Birds
Beautiful birds
Beautiful peddles
Different flowers every where
Roses are Beautiful
Wind is sometimes calm
The wind is sometimes very cold
Father..
Can you hear me? Does my words matter?
My mind runs with questions that you left unanswered.
Left alone..Confused.. Unwanted..
I thought you loved me?
I can only be lied to so many times.
Ashamed of the mouth,
That appendage who never obeys my will
Or rather destroys my will.
Draw the lips apart
Determined to tell a story
But the oxygen kills my plan
I thought I knew who I was.
I thought sickness would take that from me
But instead, sickness strengthened my identity.
No I am not the sick girl.
When the tides change
I'll be free
to drown among my people
in the ancient lands of nowhere
nowhere you would go
with a head upon my hat
and feet upon my shoes
it's time to go inside
I Never thought I'd see the day,
where I had to bury my mother
I Never thought I'd have to pay,
the same price as my brothers
I Almost considered dropping out
and giving up on school
I am more than white skin (you see).
I am more than my family's yearly salary (you want).
I am more than the slouch in my back (you think should be corrected).
When you look at a stop sign, is it just another gesture you have to make to continue or do you see a sign that's speaking to you; telling you that every once in awhil, it's okay to stop, take a step back and revise your life so you can resume?
The familiarity, yet unfamiliarity of your lips drove me wild.
I knew your body inside and out,
I'd kissed your lips a thousand times.
This time, though, with your lips against my lips,
I felt nothing.
I am strong
because I am loud.
I am fearless
because I refuse to be silenced.
I am proud
because I speak my mind.
I write because of society
Because my clothing says more about my consent, than my mouth does
Because you're not as pretty if you're a plus
Because society tells me not to get raped
When I write, I become part of the story
Create something tragic, beautiful
The characters an extension of me
Not frozen in time, not simply existing
They know what they want
They go for it
I write to release, maybe it’s an inner beast but I call it simply…
Passion.
Now this passion of mine is to be heard
from the hills of the rockies,
To the slums in Africa. For what purpose?
To tell a story
To look at your face
And know you're mine;
To hear your voice
And think it so fine;
To smell your cologne
And know I'm safe;
To kiss your lips;
And know there's no haste;
I love you, I love you with all my heart.
Unfortunately, we are together less than we are apart.
I left my guard down and you walked right in.
I gave you my trust and you made my head spin.
The pictures on the walls tell stories.
Stories of past.
While I look at them I remember good times I had.
The pictures on the walls tell stories.
When I see younger versions of my family I imagine a better life.
