self worth

Unknowns (Slam Poetry) (day 75)

When I was younger, I showed up to math class intending to make the universe known.
My first few years of school I had already wrapped everything else into perfect little boxes tied with closure
so everything was all I had left to learn.
The grown-ups had given us battles and bridges and block letters
and taught me that black is when all the colors in the universe are collected into a single object.
 
When I was younger, I wanted to be the human version of the color black. I wanted to soak up all the colors, absorb everyone’s feelings, become a magnet for beauty. I wanted all the knowledge there was.
 
As I got older, I realized I couldn’t know everything. The universe can’t fit in my pocket any more than those white dandelions could, so I just longed for something I could compact into a small enough suitcase to carry around the world with me. But eventually I realized that wouldn’t ever be enough either, I wanted a souvenir from every single person who has ever stepped into my door, every single city I’ve taken a sliver of when I leave. So there goes another dream, slipping out the window as soon as I crack it an inch for the break of spring.
 
As I got older, I wanted to know what made me worth it. I wanted to know who I was and why did everyone keep leaving me and why do people find it so hard to say the five letters in sorry and why do people so easily throw around the four letters in love. I wanted to know why we don’t dare to touch each other and why we hurl thunderstorms at each other at the passing of a second. I wanted to know why when she was mad at me the concrete outside my window felt softer on my shuddering skin than the bed we shared. I wanted to know why I tried so hard to fill in the pit in my stomach but every time I walk by that street it drops again. I wanted to know why I could melt into your embrace and pour out the monsters between us. I wanted to know why the picnic benches outside the window of my seventh-grade classroom were falling apart, because I felt like I was falling apart too.
 
But I still showed up to math class.
 
I watched those variables on the blackboard, shifting every question into something different. And instead of discovering the universe like I had always wanted to I became more and more lost in unknowns.
Let n equal all the doubts I’ve ever had,
I scribbled in my notebook.
And math class shoved n in my face day after day and the voice inside my head said please, pick apart everything I don’t like about myself, throw them into an equation I don’t understand so I can finally, finally begin to learn everything I have left to learn about the universe.
I still want to be the human version of the color black.
 
But n kept coming back, tossed chaotically across the blank page I would open to every day, forcing me every day to look at all the things I didn’t know about the world, all the things I didn’t know about myself, turning my thoughts bitter and saying everything other than
you’re worth it.
 
As I got older, I waited too long to know what made me worth it.
I waited so long that my commas were cut off at the ends, dangling from a crumbling cliff.
I waited so long that I would pour myself over the first one who turned around enough to look into my eyes a second time instead of just giving me a passing glance.
I waited so long that my energy was spent on things like flying and reading and looking out windows and closing my eyes and going over what I was going to say again and again and speaking sometimes and looking at beautiful people.
 
I used to think my unknowns were what made me beautiful. I soaked in all the colors and all the people and all the atoms in the universe and became the human version of the color black. But then they got all tied up in the pit of my stomach and I was a mixture, I became more of a mystery, even to myself.
Now I just line up my unknowns like dominoes, waiting for one of these skeletal hands to emerge from the shadows and knock them all down.
 
I just wanted to be everything the world told me. I want to be the human version of the color black.
 
And somehow school still teaches us about battles and bridges and block letters and never gives us the simple words
worth it.
Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 9/15/16

Blackboard

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Fatally Accepted

Folder: 
The Rest

It vacillates, that pride in self
Spins from more than enough to apparently nothing at all.
Professionally and in portions of private
Bound up by the varnish of confidence
Then in corners of lonely and doubtful
You see the surrender of self
The brief look at things to improve
Then the slow easy slide into what’s the point
People know and care and support
Expect nothing more than what it is
Excuse temporary self-centric aberrations
Excuse self harm in the form of indulgence
God what a sick making irony
Close to all that you can mentally be
While physically acceptance is fatal.

soul

Folder: 
haiku

What is my soul worth,
I don't use it that often,
Let's ask the Devil.

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As Queens We Cry Out Loud...(Shequita Phillps & Evolution's of Poetry)

Folder: 
Collabrotions

(Shequita)
I am a woman first who's tears run down her face
tears of shame emptiness inside this cold heart of minds
just a woman who gives all her love to a man
only to feel like she is not worthy of his love
she feels guilt shame in this cycle of love
a woman that gives to much in love
only for her heart to be broken into pieces
shattered like glass torn up inside
this little heart of minds this love is like a fairy tale
I am a woman who gave this man
everything inside me only to find out
things that I didn't want to know that
were true that came to the light of me

(EOP)
I am a woman who`s soul has been through the rapture
The undying abyss we call life
The subject of loves rejections
Impaled through the heart
Broken
Alone
Totally confused
Wondering why I chose to love thee
Only to never receive the same
I am woman born to wear the scars
Burdened by my ancestor
Strong black queens of the night
We are taught to look life in the eye
Smile in his face
And never let him see you cry
But how do I hide this love I feel
When you make my soul ache
From just a mere glimpse of your face
Born and bread to stand by my man
Not a weak little punk
Thinking he will soon become a man

(Shequita)

A Strong black woman a queen of the knight
a woman who is in fear to open up her heart again to a man
a woman who will not let him see her cry
he will not think I am weak cause I love him so much
a woman who had a hard knock life growing up
from a little girl been molested by her stepfather and Uncle
Confused bout which way to go in life
Broken down
Abused
Physically
mentally
verbally
sexually
A woman who wears a shield around her heart for protection
and blocks her heart not letting anyone in to love
do to the fact she has been hurt all her childhood life
Now as a woman she releases all of her pain through her pen

(EOP)

My pen bleeds mountains of confusion
As my personification grows cold
As I have a burial For this hollow well
I call my soul
Tears flowing deep
As I overflow with frustrations
Intimidated by the reflections
I see with in my eyes
Whom am I
Do I know her
I can still hear her screams for help
Begging for someone to save her
Only to hear him laughing
Why is it me
Why do I deserve such love
As my broken soul cries
To find away out
My eyes swell with tears of repulsion
Free me please
I beg of you
To look at me and see
Beyond the broken hour glass
As my soul bleeds

(Shequita)

See beyond this inner child who has been hurt in so much pain
these tears fall down my face as I bleed out
my soul cries for love understanding
caring that unconditional love
pure true real love bliss
I look in the mirror and see my reflection as a woman
and as I look I see dat inner child broken free to pen all the feeling growing up
seeing how her life took a turn
from all the confusion in her life
slowly mending all the broken pieces
growing up

(EOP)

As woman so many of us face this distant struggle
Whether to love him or leave him
Before he kills us with his abusive temper
There is no more confusion
When I look into the mirror
It is your bitterness i see
So listen up Queens
We have been to the point of no return
Broken down by those who claimed to love us
Holding on to Gods unchanging hand
Is truly a blessing
So look into my eyes as I smile from the inside
No more tears to shed for that abused little girl is dead
Her pain has been transformed within me
Through my many years of struggle
Yes i am living outside your bubble
You can no longer hold me down
Try to control me or even kill me
Because everything that existed
Within me for you is now dead
For I heard my mother say
Hold your head up high child
We are the reason God continues to smile
As Queens we cry out loud

(c) 2012 Shequita Phillips & Cassandra Evolutionsofpoetry Covington

Life....

Folder: 
Free Flow

There is no substitution for life
It is the air we breathe
The tears we shed
The sound of a baby crying
Fresh out her mother's womb
The sound of anger that fills the air
Miss guided happiness within a family
When a child is raped by her father
Molested by her teacher
Or abused by her brother
Life can deal you a harsh hand at times
Life has so many different meanings
Some filled with happiness
Others filled with lies and deceit
Life is sometimes just are hard to understand

When you look at me what do you see
My pretty smile
My beautiful hair
The beautiful person i have become
Well I blame it on Life
You see life is not as easy as it may seem
There are so many boulders
Holding down our dreams
Once we look deep in the mirror
We start to open our eyes and see
The just harsh reality of life
Where we have come from to get where we are
Broken down by society's fads and misfortunes
Telling us if we are not a certain size shape or color
We don't really matter
But i call life a lie to his face
I am who I am
Simple because i love life
Simply because i love me
My ambitions for greatness
Push me pass the hollow dreams
Of what society thinks of me
You see the love in this life
Starts with in me and im not afraid
To call it just how it seems
Life can be a top notch bitch
And thats no lie
But its how you handle it
That makes you a top notch queen

So i ask you what life to you is
There is no need to look at me sideways
Or turn your nose up
If you’re not happen in your life
Please take a look around you
Maybe its the company you keep
Holding you back from achieving your destiny
I could never understand why the strong run with the weak
But I guess everyone needs a fall back guy
To take your mind off your pain
And focus on theirs
In hopes that it makes you feel better

But the true reality is
Life isn't going no where
She will be sitting here waiting
While you let her pass right own by
She want hate you for it
But she will remind you every chance she gets
Where you could be now
What you could have been doing
While you were out letting no good people
Pull you down
By filling your head with crazy mess
Telling you that you'll never amount to anything
While you’re weak self esteem
Allows them to dig deeper and deeper
Until you find yourself lost and wondering
Where the hell I went wrong
In this so called thing
That I call my life

Life is a petition for greatness
You have a choice to change the bad into good
You have a right to live happy
But it must start within you
Trust me I know the road
Are never easy to travel
But we can choose to weather the storms
We can choose to let the boulders weigh us down
Or we can push them to the side and keep moving
We must remember we live in a world filled
With jealousy and envy
Haters come in packs
Even more malicious than when we were kids
Our children have to be taught to love themselves
From deep within
To look past the shallowness of ignorance
And smile in the faces of their adversaries
For showing them our weakness gives them Power
And in this life our power belongs to us

I guess the only true miss fortune in life
Is not Having God in your life
Not understanding that he can make things so much easier
If your faith is strong enough to believe
Life is suppose to be filled with love and happiness
But yes we have to goo through life's lessons
In order to reach where we want to be
Remember to never push away those who come to help you
But always remember not ever friend is meant to be close to you
Often we open up to the wrong people who often in return
Just wants to misuse and abuse us
Do you want your life to mean something?
Well this is a wake up call
If you haven't found your way in this life
Now would be a great time to start
We are never going to be Prefect
God has that spot filled
But we can live a life full of abundant happiness
If we are willing to work hard and strive for greatness
Stop letting others steal your thunder
Get rid of those so call wanna be friends
And start loving yourself stronger
Get to know yourself and love what you have to offer
There is nothing wrong with being different
That’s what makes living life so beautiful

©2012 Cassandra Evolutionsofpoetry covington

A Dilemma For The Individual

A contrast of thought
A dilemma unspoken
To find oneself
Do we want it or not?

Are we searching something feared
Or are we finding satisfaction?
To find oneself
It's a question unanswered

We search with help
We search alone
To find oneself
Can we own our hope?

Once we have found that being
Stopped searching because we know
To accept oneself
Is a feat everyone is learning

Those around us die
We know who they were
To accept oneself
In the moment, to try

Every one is some one
People know who we are
To accept oneself
To know I'm just one

Be the best possible in trial
Though i don't know myself, someone does
To BECOME oneself
To know, to accept, without defile.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I wrote this in a graveyard and didn't think much of it when I finished. But i found this recently and I think it's pretty meaningful

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Under the Knife

Folder: 
2010

 

There's beauty!
Where? Beneath the flab,
Peel off the clothes,
Pull back the fat.
Reveal the gaunt and twisted thing
That dwelt beneath the ghastly skin.
Tie back the hair, reveal the face,
Beneath the gore resides our case,
The masterpiece we'll call our own;
The girl that hid within the crone.
Our eyes are sharp,
Our knives are keen,
She'll hardly even feel a thing as we
mold and sculpt beneath the skin.

And when we're done,
What pride she'll feel!
This face we give that isn't real
Will bless her with true love for life,
Until the Belle begins to fade,
And then once more she'll need our blade.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I wrote this poem a while ago, I've been working on it for a while. I haven't been to postpoems.com for nearly five years, I haven't been writing much at all... I'm hoping to change that, and posting this is the first step. :-) Critique desperately desired. :P

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