This is the poem I wrote for my boyfriend for Valentines day - I’m such a sweetie I know. Have a look!

Standing in Clintons attempting to find a card which emphasised how I feel about you was near enough impossible

None of the pictures were able to capture just how sexy we look together

The stick-men couple were not holding each other as tight as you hold me

The figurines did not stare into each other’s eyes as lovingly as you look into mine

The lover’s kiss appeared empty, not oozing with passion and butterflies

The badge on the front did not have ‘I LOVE YOU’ written big enough

The big, bold statements failed to catch my eye the way you did

The words inside could not articulate how prepared I am to make you happy

They could not capture how deeply I feel no matter how hard they tried

 

The rhyming couplets, although sweet, could not describe the chemistry when we meet

The alliteration did not portray our deep desire or the longevity of our love

The enjambment could not demonstrate the height at which I fell head over heels in love with you

The iambic meter could not incorporate how my heart skips a beat when you’re near

The anaphoric references could not encapsulate what we’ve been through in the past nor could the cataphoric references depict our future

No card can convey how secure I feel in your arms or just how happy I’ve been since the day I met you

No words can express how proud I am to be with you, how blessed I am to have your and just how much I love you

 

You inspire me to release the burning potential I have inside of me

You encourage me to free my inward spark

By example, you teach me how to be the light in my surroundings, which can sometimes be dark

You motivate me to step outside the box

Literally, metaphorically and just like the picture on the front of this card,

You’re my perfect match.

poeticpersistence:

themouthspeaks:

poeticpersistence:

Love is a cycle with a synapse at the end

Partners have become fashion, pregnancy a trend

Love is pleasing but lust can never get enough

Females can be teasing, Males can get rough.

Boys play it cool because girls radiate warmth

In attempt to be idiosyncratic and variagate norms

But are two lovers safe or are two lovers lost?

If love is the way, what is the cost?

They say it’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved I agree

I didn’t choose love, love chose me

When my heart did the blinking I lost sight

When my feelings did the thinking I lost my mind

But Mr Right was always in the picture

Scripture depicts submission and vulnerability

Advocating what seemed like a greater cost to me

Mistakenly

Love

When with the perfect person

Is perfect.

But you see I agree, 

with your every word on every line

Your every turn as you twine,

The optimistic thoughts on your mind

But please for just a second,

consider this philosophy of mine..

I find myself inclined

to believe, in the unique,

perfect, person you seek.

The thief, that’s bounds to leave,

with resent, unable to prevent,

the leaking of them sneaking,

with alleged friends.

That for so long they’ve spent,

building up a stage with,

for voluptuous intent.

I mean, how do we trust, in a world brimming with injustice?

A world where hope is dimming, disappearing in clusters

And that perfect partner you lost before you met will inevitably lust that and lust this?

I’ve pondered as I walked the road of life and the answer came to me on it’s own..

Just like you were born alone, you tend to die alone.

And I find it difficult to adjust this,

line of thought,

in the hope of justice,

Because just this,

is enough for me to accept the fact,

That in this world opposites attract,

And that saying alone, surely, sure enough..

Should explain one of the many reasons why I hate love.

I see now how your poetic points are persistent

And your viewpoint remains unchanging and consistent

But still I must resist and dismiss them before you convince me otherwise

I understand completely your thought patterns believe me

But i can’t help but feel as though you have an emotional wall

Maybe you loved once in the past

Maybe you lost it all

You have every reason to distrust the nature of humanity

Which is notably selfish

Intrinsically

Where it’s every man for herself

Apologetically

And a dog-eat-dog world

Unfortunately

But your distrust doesn’t solve much

Trust me

Rather it adds to the negativity

Positively casting out all hope of true love

If you don’t trust her, she’ll give you reason to.

But if you love her unconditionally, she’ll give you reason too.

poeticallyprofound:

Soft spoken
Woven omens
Making love to women
In between writing these poems 
It was startling
When I realized how much you were a part of me
Somehow, someway never managed to see
My own muse’s artistry
And its in those moments
Of supreme vulnerability 
That I ask myself if I’ve become everything I wanted to be
When they
Take my pen away
What will the uncover? 
What will it unveil?
Hearts of broken lovers
Blood red ink revealed
She was too busy romancing the stone
Perhaps never meant to leave me all alone
Soft spoken
Woven omens
Making love to women
In between these broken
Poems

the-diary-of-a-writer:

I was sixteen years young.
That’s how they saw it.
A hundred and ninety two moons
Of a lifespan.

There were milestones to conquer
And miles to travel,
People I’d never met
And names to forget,
Before I landed my feet on  
this unsteady ground. 

But somewhere along the way
I fell in love too soon,
And two people became one
In the corner of a bathroom stall
On a lonely Friday night. 

Half a moon later
I watched myself cringe to a ball
On the floor of the same toilet
With a stick and a + for confirmation in my hand.

From then on, 
Time stopped and swirled 
And I lost track of life
Mostly because I didn’t want to remember.

It hurts because when 
You were inside me
I had two hearts beating beauty 
Through my being

Now,
It feels like I have
None. 

One plus one 
Equals three 
Minus one. 

(Source: alfaazkibarsaat)

ravenandbloom:

I Am Nobody’s Nigger

Rappers when you use the word “nigger” remember that’s one of the last words Stephen Lawrence heard, so don’t tell me it’s a reclaimed word.

I am nobody’s nigger 
So please, let my ancestors rest in peace 
Not turn in their graves in Jamaica plantations 
Or the watery graves of the slave trade 
Thrown overboard into middle passage 
Just for insurance claims 
They were chained up on a boat 
As many as they could manage and stay afloat 
Stripped of dignity and all hope 
Awaiting their masters and European names 
But the sick and the injured were dead weight to toss 
And Lloyds of London would cover that cost.

I am nobody’s nigger 
So you can tell Weezy and Drake 
That they made a mistake 
I am nobody’s nigger now 
So you can tell Kanye and Jigga 
I am not a nigger… in Paris 
I’m not a nigger in London 
I’m not a nigger in New York 
I’m not a nigger in Kingston 
I’m not a nigger in Accra 
Or a nigger with attitude in Compton 
Cos “I don’t wanna be called yo nigga”

How were you raised on Public Enemy 
And still became your own worst enemy? 
You killed Hip Hop and resurrected headless zombies 
That can’t think for themselves or see where they’re going 
Or quench the blood lust because there’s no blood flowing 
In their hearts, just in the streets 
They don’t give a damn as long as they eating 
Their hearts ain’t beating, they’re cold as ice (bling) 
Because they would put money over everything 
Money over self respect or self esteem 
Or empowering the youth to follow their dreams 
Stacking paper cos it’s great than love it’s seems 
Call me “nigger” cos you’re scared of what “brother” means

To know that we share something unspeakable 
To know that as high as we rise we are not seen as equal 
To know that racism is institutional thinking 
And that “nigger” is the last word you heard before a lynching.

By Dean Atta

(Source: soundcloud.com)

thediaryofawriter:

365. It seems like such a small number; innocent and harmless. Yet packed within the folds and curves of those digits lie the moments, miracles, and mistakes that took me one step closer to the individual I will become some day. Hiding beneath those three figures are the jabs and punches, the glue and medicine that define my existence. That number has a sliver of my soul residing in its strands.  

So here’s to 2011. You broke me. You changed me. You showed me. You held me. And in your arms, i grew stronger, even though parts of me were missing. I grew wiser in the face of darkness. I found the courage to let the world read my words, and peek inside the folds of my true character. I fell down. And I fell in love. I let go. And I let in. I got lost. And I found a community of writers that make me feel worthy, and affect me. So yeah, I got beat up, and beat down. But somewhere along the way I did something right to end up exactly where I am today. 

So with those 365 days under my belt, I stand here, stripped and vulnerable, Scared but strong, hesitant, but ready- for another round.

Bring it, Twelve.

(Source: alfaazkibarsaat, via alfaazkibarsaat)