future

Ascendancy

Folder: 
Hand Written
"To think, 
back when I had asked
the exhausted man looking back,
eyes bloodshot, 
 
cheeks lined with scruff,
sweat on brow,
mr. mirror, who are you? 
Why are you here?
 
To think, 
years ago, barely alive,
that five more since then
I'd be sitting in this chair, 
 
typing away like I once did,
amid all the vivid scenes
that replay in my head,
when I could be dead,
 
instead flit the pen,
the flutter it dances across the page,
signing
not my life away,
 
but my name,
in another book,
the fifth,
the poetry that has kept me alive,
 
kept me going,
from the time I wanted to die,
words spinning for no reason
to now,
 
hard to believe 
that perhaps destiny
kept me writing,
and I have succeeded.
 
Not in making it big,
not in making money,
but making art.
Five years apart."
Author's Notes/Comments: 

It's been a while! Please stay tuned for what's next! (Serious, this time!)

The Wind is Never Too Late

Folder: 
Wayward Motions

The Wind is never too late
Minutes and hours may pool into an endless shadow clock
but She cares not for the tick tock tick tock
She has been cast into many worlds
With no hope to ever unfurl

Ravaged with unrest
We seek Her company but know not what is best
For Her

She curls Her arms in a lover's embrace
We reach out in hope
We leave with despair

To Her
we are a ghost of live's past
we are a measure of time She cannot understand
we become dust in Her shapeless lands

And yet... the Wind is never too late
She casts Her endless touch
Hoping        needing        yearning

She is here
She is now
She is always
(The past cannot present itself
when the future was never there)

Sadness beckons, widens, and burdens
And like a loose cannon
we shoot out into the distance
reaching out for anything

To hold
To conquer
To master
To love

But, The Wind... She knows
She is never too late
She catches our follies when we become one with the daisies
She carries our songs which blankets those worlds
She chronicles our stories and heralds them across endless sands

The Wind is here
The Wind is now
The Wind is always

For us
For Her

Author's Notes/Comments: 

After returning from a trip to the mountains I am finding myself in unrest. I miss the wind across my face. I miss the serenity of the forests. I miss many things and yet I aim to adjust the sails of reality and move forward. Hopefully, soon.

A Better Place, A Better Time

I glanced to see your empty seat not far

away from mine. I did not know you well

before your name marked every mind. I got

the news my freshmen year at Aries’ end.

The open casket frightens me, a fear

to peer inside.  Depression lurks and maims

the ones we love, no way to say goodbye.

The cries I heard your mother make in words

I can’t describe. Your close best friend, a friend

Of mine, still thinks of you in times of light

and shade; He sits and waits for you to call:

the promise made, be kept today. I learned

from you don’t hesitate. To think of dreams

you’ll never have or places never seen,

I missed the chance to know your truth and who

you want to be. But now I see for me

to be the who I want to be; I must

help those like you live on, it’s not your time    

to leave.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

with inspiration drawn from beloved Javad, rest in peace. with intentions to direct those in need to the song A Better Place, A Better Time by Streetlight Manifesto

Letters

If I could write a letter to my past,
There are so many things I would say

 

If I could write a letter to my future,
There are so many things I would ask

 

I would say “it'll get better, stay strong!”

And that would be a lie

 

I would ask, “does it ever get better?”
And I would hope that it does

 

I would say “you're strong, you can hold the world on your shoulders!”
And that would be a lie

 

I would ask, “did you make it through this?”
And I would hope the answer's yes

 

If I could write a letter to my past,
I would only be able to lie

 

If I could write a letter to my future,
I don't think I'd want a reply

 

We endured so much in the past,
Scraping by, clawing through the dust and into what we thought was sunlight

 

We'll have endured so much in the future,
And hopefully we'll have emerged in the moonlight

 

We suffered so much pain in the past,
But it feels like nothing but a sliver under our skin compared to now

 

We'll have suffered so much in the future,
That if we're still around I will truly be shocked

 

If I could write a letter to my past,
I wouldn't warn them

 

If I could write a letter to my future,
I wouldn't ask for help

 

Because this pain is what makes us who we are,
This pain defines us,
It binds us and shackles us to our broken version of reality.

 

If I could write a letter to my past,
I wouldn't give help
I wouldn't warn them of the dangers to come,
Because that pain, the pain that defines my very reality
Is all I have left.

 

And if I could write a letter to my future, I wouldn't ask for help,
I wouldn't ask for a heads-up or a warning of everything to come,
Because that pain, the pain that defines my very life,
Will continue to antagonize my every breath,

Leading me to become someone beyond our imaginations.

 

If I could write a letter across time,
There wouldn't be much in it,
Because if there was,

Those letters wouldn't be addressed to me,
They'd be addressed to someone completely different,
Someone who hasn't suffered the pain that defines me.

 

I need that pain.
Without that pain, me wouldn't be me.

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My Foe

Come and go, ebb and flow
fast and slow, time will go

the reality of truth,
will we ever know?

What does it mean, the feeling in  between
the good and the evil

Is there such a thing?
Or is it up to me, just to make believe?

Shakespeare said the worlds a stage,
sometimes I feel the world a plague

If I act a fool, if I act a king
if I take a gun and a sling
if I lose my mind to take a drink
or take a drink to lose my mind

does it matter, once we all die?
or am I just high? Please, can I get high?

In the land of sinners, the brothelsloth is King
coming and going, doing as I please

The more I know, the less I care
the less I care, the more I bear

I bear my soul, so that others may know
the lessons I learned, from life, my foe.

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*Before and After*

November-13-1996/ March-2-2004 
Trisha M. Barrek  Hopkins

-Before- 


I felt like i never belong 
I was always called the pain 
I did everything wrong 
I was only trying to beat the game 
I've tried too hard for so long 


But no matter what i do 
I can never impress 
I could never satisfy you 
Whatever i tried turned into a mess 
So sorry my eyes cant be the color blue 
I'm sorry you don't like the way i dress 

 

I always took what i could take 
I always kept everything held inside 
I always tried to be fake 
I never showed my feelings that i decided to hide 
I never had the topping on the cake 

 

No one wanted to see it through my eyes 
I always was an out cast 
But people finally see when my heart dies 
But that wouldn't even last 
But this is before 
I need to move on from the past 
I need more 
So i change my mind real fast 

 

-After- 

 

I do belong 
I have no more pain 
I do everything right no more wrong 
I've won the game 
Now I'm dancing to my favorite song 

 

Everything that i do 
Relieves me of my stress 
My heart is brand new 
The pain from before i have less 
Deep down in my heart i know 
That you i don't have to impress 

 

I decided i'm going to keep what i take 
I think its time not to hide 
I know i'm not a fake 
I'm my own person my own pride 
I can have all my cake 
I will stand by my side 

 

I see more clear through my eyes 
From now on i'm leaving the past 
I don't hear my cries 
From now on i'm gonna have a blast 

 

The people that are mean i'll ignore 
I'm a different person now 
I am happier then before 
I no longer wear a frown 
Being my own self i know how 
I'm the one who wears the crown

 

Copyright

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Dream of Tomorrow

Neither today nor the day before

What i dream of is tomorrow

I dream of peace and relief

Neither pain nor sorrow


The days are always pleasant

Nights are always gratifying

No failures no fiasco coz

People around are always trying.


Not seeing old friends does make my dream upset

A bunch of new mates clear some

While a serious fun with them vanishes the rest.


Neither today nor the day before

What i dream of is tomorrow

I dream of care and respect 

Not dumb even a fellow.



 

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Untitled

"UNTITLED"

By: Anomynous Poet

 

Her words can see mine 

Magnifying their draw 

Like kindred spirits 

That call for more moments of solidarity. 

I want our surroundings 

To match her mind's might, 

In mountaneous terrains or 

Steep valleys whose vicissitudes 

Even hold the most beautiful beauty. 

I wanna get lost with you 

In every possible realm 

To explore and find ourselves together 

Experience that intensity 

That'll cause power trips into 

Different levels of consciousness but 

Don't worry I don't want to awaken from her. 

My mind wanders but it still has an embrace on her, 

My heart skips but but it won't ever race from her. 

Nature is our feul, 

You'd be surprised how much more I can say in its silence. 

We should become one with with it 

Even though we already are physically but 

Dammit that's the most common form of intimacy. 

Instead I want to caress your mind with gentle winds and 

Fight your demons with the perfect storm. 

Nature happens and is inevitable, 

 

So I hope that gives you something to look forward to.

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M987

 


The tall, elegant black woman is a thing of wonder, an object of affection, 

admiration, and appreciation via adoration. She is to be honored and 

celebrated on a daily basis. There is nothing like her in all of nature. 

Magic emanates from her hands, her movements, her thoughts. She 

has no equal. She is pure Deva, unsullied by the clamor and corruption 

of an out of control, mass media conditioned, wayward society. 


The tall, elegant, brazenly mature black woman is a marvel, a 

testamonial to the beauty and power of self actualization, to a 

sense of individuality and purpose. She is Deva Extraordinaire, 

goddess, beacon of excellence in a world best suited for mediocrity.


Watch her hands, her expressions, listen to her words, witness the 

graceful coordination of her compelling and fluid walk. Follow her ideas, 

endow her with the proper respect, provide for her dreams and elevate 

her to throne, for she is but an illusion, the projection of a much shorter, 

equally cerebral and statuesque black woman who is on her way to 

visit her anglo lover. Right turn ahead............

 
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