Tag: words

Words Are Worth It

LondonBridgez03

Corroded behavior reveals the unpolished stains left dangling from the heart
Brimming from the mind and falling from the mouth
A surge of power tap dancing in the air and building meaning on the ground
A melting pot of consonant sounds and vowels finding way to my skin
Seeking to build homes in the goosebumps on my arms
Making noise
Unnecessary sounds like the mimic of my own voice
But you do not live here
Have not walked on top the coals that once found residence between my toes
to know what this ground taste like
a skin black leather like strength
I was not born among glass
and will not break easily
I doubt then that this impression will go successful
Sneaky words
Empty tongues
Idle existence
a reverberation of shame creaking against emotion is your birthplace
dare you seek to give of me a world of illusion
a day dream of fairy-tale hopscotching around in my mouth
an elusive sleep walk
a collection of letters too light to gravity the ground
too corroded to fly
bouncing off the walls of thought
dare you pretend the taste of burnt ash that fell from mouth and consumed a life
did not first have a home in heart
all these bodies collecting black and bruise
bruise and black
and bone and stitch
I am no fool
Dear Words
I choose to choose you carefully
To examine your wings before deciding that they should take flight
To taste your essence one syllable at a time
Seasoning as needed
You see words,
I’m on to you
I know how powerful you really are.

The Body Language of Writing

I love simplicity, what a lovely analogy.

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If These Walls Could Talk

Wall

They would scalpel the mask off your face
Pull back the deception bleeding from your eyes
And reveal how dark you really are.
A slave to the ignorance pulsing from your mouth
Cloned imagination
Words bending, tainted by the cold lashes of society
Originality lying desolate
The inability to bring forth substance
Meat
And bone
Without nourishment
No cultivation
Of the mind
If these walls could talk
they would verbalize the truth
that you starve of love
dish out hatred
but cannot take it
glossed over and hidden beneath a poetic lyric
you love blindness
infatuated with the concept of searching your face in the shadows
chasing tails
finding no where
and understanding none at all
it is easier to be real
than to be mask
a lesson too many have not yet learned
what kind of life really exist inside the pen of a poet?
The things they would tell
If only these walls could talk
And you know what

they do.

Friends

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Echoes off the tops of our lungs with undeniable ease. Friends. Like random hellos, or a courtesy goodbye. Like a sporadic gesture among the land of foreigners, friends too has become a strange language; its value in a strange land as it falls off the edges of our tongues. Words have no meaning for many of us. They race from underneath the spaces of our hearts to descend empty into the air. To land idly among the elements, or on the tops of buildings and of trees. After all, “sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me.” We chant this saying from infancy to adulthood, carrying perception on our shoulders like truth. Meanwhile, words will go on to hurt and heal, afflict and inspire. Friends. Technology says we can find them on Facebook. Fly away with them on Twitter and update relationships instantly. Though I’ve never known a friendship to be built so fast. What kind of lessons do we learn in a world that laughs at murder because words after all have no meaning, so “I hate you” doesn’t mean that I might as well have killed you. Friends. There is no greater person than one who is willing to lay down his life for his friend and yet, the word leaps as it wills off the edges of our tongues. Such a light hearted fantasy. Everyone is a friend today, though not everyone is willing to die for you. Friends. So often do we fill it with air and toss it around among our peers; an enslaved basketball among the bars of netted string is this word. Nothing more than a one syllable title we release into the air to become captive to whatever it wills. But what does it truly mean to be a friend?

In-between the Lines

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Trees that died in vain
Wasted paper
Blind post
Wingless words
On a road to nowhere
Reaching no one
It seems
invisible value
but learn to value what the eye cannot see
To dance to whispered songs
With loud messages
Screaming purpose
that it takes another set of eyes to see
Regular eyeballs just can’t
Invisible trees stand erect in that storage place
Invisible bank accounts
Unseen credit
A worth beyond the U.S. dollar
cuz its backed by paper
but these trees never die in vain
wasted paper
blind post
wingless words
on a road to somewhere
behind the eyes
a purpose beyond the page
and in-between the lines

Wasted Words

Falling words from book

Have you ever felt like you are doing something for nothing? That it is all in vain? Sometimes I regret bathing in the blank wake of my passion. I do not wish to follow Strands advice; I am not kissed by white paper. I know that my words will just fall unmercifully on death ears like falling stars praying for repentance that will never come. They will fall like the leaves of trees upon the ground like death and rot around my feet. I will be filled to the brim with excitement and anticipation of sunlight before the reality of wasted words darkens the skies and fills the clouds with storms. I will push forth in determination, only to be reminded by splashes of thunder that the droplets of failure have already proceeded to gush forth. I am not the one to give up (let’s not get that deep!), but judge me not for my lack of enthusiasm today. I am human after all; made up of emotions, flesh and bone. I get tired sometimes too.

Guest Feature – Mother to Son

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Well, son, I’ll tell you:
Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.
It’s had tacks in it,
And splinters,
And boards torn up,
And places with no carpet on the floor
Bare.
But all the time
I’se been a-climbin’ on,
And reachin’ landin’s,
And turnin’ corners,
And sometimes goin’ in the dark
Where there ain’t been no light.
So, boy, don’t you turn back.
Don’t you set down on the steps.
‘Cause you finds it’s kinder hard.
Don’t you fall now
For I’se still goin’, honey,
I’se still climbin’,
And life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.

 
– Langston Hughes