Thursday, June 27, 2013
Sharp Letters to an open wound
What can you do when your words haunt you ? When everything you're trying to build topples over and falls through ... When your ever changing reality becomes too much for you ...and your date for negative thought rape awaits at the door of blue. It defies change and welcomes memories inflicted with pain and misery. The words are sharpened at the edge and thrown right at me. They are daggers to my past ... They are the words that haunt me... They are the open wounds you chose to pick until I'm infected with agony. It's cause you never want me to forget your pain... How could I ? How dare I try to mention that I too was hurt in the aftermath and that my real decision to let you go was a self less act of love ... You won't let me be honest. Trips down memory lane won't allow you to forget your long meditative nights of sorrow and prayerful hatred. You wished upon wishes that you could delete from your life and ignore my existence. But my eyes always watched you ...and my face continued to appear in your dreams. And my voice that rang like bells in your head just reminded you how much you hate you love me. So you Jump into our funerary boat and retrieve my buried body. You dust me off and conger up a spell to spring life within the depths of me. You say lets ponder on forever but in the mean time let's think about what you did to me...and every chance I get to throw it in your face you are to never lift a brow. You are to never admit the divine truth of the matter...that what You did was out of yourself. That what You did was to protect Me. That what You did was because You felt You didn't deserve me... Yet even that very thought haunts me into a coma of miscommunications and things left unsaid. To floating pointing fingers and the walking dead.your rebirth I am starting to dread...it's draining my heart. I know we are meant to be and that's why this love I've started. But these wounds.... Will they ever heal? Will these letters ever cease to pierce my soul even into the depths of the afterlife...let one forgive and accept his wrong doing... Isn't she a child of god? Who art thou to place judgment upon a child of god? Take this mirror and look at yourself ... Do you have nothing to alter? Do you have nothing that needs fixing? Or can you only see my flaws and point the finger at me? Some things we will never meet eye to eye on but no one should ever feel like they are loved yet never forgiven.
Wednesday, June 26, 2013
Monday, June 24, 2013
Wednesday, June 19, 2013
YES GOD.
IT GETS ME ALL THE TIME...I FEEL SO ALONE.I DO ME, IT KEEPS THE PEASANTS AT A DISTANCE. EXPERIENCING AH AND JEALOUSLY, BUT KEEPS ROYALTY BOARDING MY SPACESHIP OF DIVINITY.NO QUEENS HAVE PASSED THE MOTHER BOARD...MANY HAVE SAW A MERE IMAGE OF MY SHIPS GODLY ESSENCE AND WITH THAT THEY WILL NEVER RETURN. I'M SURROUNDED BY A MASS POPULATION OF GODS...I'VE REACHED BLISS...I'M PAST IT NOW...I'M THE REINCARNATION OF ISIS. SHE LIVES THROUGH ME. I AM THE CENTER OF THE UNIVERSE...LET THE GODS COME. WELCOME ABOARD THE SPACESHIP MY DEAR KING.I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU FOR WHAT SEEMS LIKE AN ETERNITY...
Tonik #7 (playlist)
MUCH LOVE TO THE GOD THAT TURNED ME ON...
BUTTERFLY KISSES ALL OVER YOUR ESSENCE.
Let's Write in Pencil
We enjoy the sunny days,
the times when worries lay far,
and thunderstorms merely represented by random rain drops.
For the lesson you learn,
For the things you discover,
For the days you reflect on the possibility of unprotected dreams.
But for now...
WE WRITE IN PENCIL.
Taking our time, no rush in sight.
WE WRITE IN PENCIL.
Vulnerable and scared out of my mind.
WE WRITE IN PENCIL.
Because we know the harsh permanent stroke of a pen.
SPEECH-LESS-NESS
It is too much to ask for...
To be loved.
To be held.
to be paid attention too.
I'd love and merely cherish love,
Even if they man was mute.
Because he would love like only the divine would do.
With heart, with soul, with body, with truth.
Intersections of the Heart
Why do you leave me chilled within the cast of snow,
While my eyes call sleep,
and my heart beats whispers...
It is within the heat of the burning sun that I sit
and wait for my cheeks to rouge and your eyes to meet mine.
Sometimes you will love,
but you may not be loved back,
Know that this is not love,
and that love should be a shared pathway.
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Creator of the Mother Board
- SnApS
- Dallas, TX, United States
- Sagacious.Natural.African.Poetic.Sista- born Kiera Saivonne Williams is a Dallas, TX native, is currently a sophomore at Huston-Tillotson University in Austin,TX where she stands as a W.E.B Dubois scholar majoring in communications. Within her first year in college she has managed to attain a 4.0 GPA, Deans list, Honor roll, the Ramnites dance team, and the pageant title of MISS GOLD. She has done African dance for 3 years and she has recently acquired the position of secretary and head photographer of TBS Photography, a family business started by her grandfather. She is a poet, playwright, song writer, actress, visual artist, and creator. She has a passion for science and mathematics and has a great interest in alternative medicine.
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