ooooo they said you back and you nasty with it.
i keep tellin ’em,
ya gotta keep it pushin
like that good blue
with that good dream.
damn we lifted.
faded out of disbelief
they wanna make a dreamer out of me,
but i can’t take it.
ain’t no way i can stomach the
ya judgments laced in these comments.
“look at that good hair.”
“She came out so pretty.”
“she get that nice brown tone in the sun.”
“Mmm, wouldn’t she prettier if we straightened out these curls.”
“this mane is crazy. let me pull it.”
“man, if i had yo body.”
“hahaha you skinny bitch.”
“hey light skinned.”
“church girl what you doing?”
“well, ain’t she just lucky.”
“why don’t you smile for us.”
the illusion hasn’t eluded me
so how can i? smile i mean.
how can i smile
as you continue to pass down
the mandate that’s got us so damn disconnected.
crazy how all the expression of micros
projects all the ill you out here feelin.
kinda hard to take a pause,
reflect like we don’t know where that shit is rooted,
maybe that’s why i stick around our commune,
findin ways to keep on dealin
until we can breathe some of that good livin.
I’m wild with it,
Tried to compartmentalize
The way my lips curve
When you catch me gazin.
Hella wicked the way
I tried to compartmentalize,
The way your natural perfume
causes everything else to cease from existence.
Tried to act like it don’t matter.
That I could survive
The pain beginning to erupt
From denying the heart what it wants.
Fuck that imma get what I want,
I’m tired of being hungry,
This mouth bout to stay wide open,
I plan on being fed.
This will be endless. Make no mistake.
My word is law.
Ain’t no love you’ll find as virtuous
I want everyone to know.
Make’em drool in their envy,
I want them to see how a jewel shines.
Dipped in all sorts of gold,
Devour me only to take me with you;
I am a part of what sustains you.
Sage | Her
she’s a homey kind of poet,
where time slows down,
mornings become infinite,
and most times,
we bless our tongue
with a little black and strong,
cafe of course.
wild thing | to be continued…
Photo Credit IG@ayana.koduah
Day 19: Sunday Sessions.
i watched her cry.
i watched familiar lips tremble
with fear as though they might over hear,
every insecurity inflicted,
birthed by her unspoken truth.
it hit me then. she was afraid. just as much as i was.
so i let go.
even at 52 we’re still just children learning, hurting, and hopefully healing.