Category: Poetry (Page 1 of 2)

Living in a corrupt society makes you unable to be at peace while you’re resting.

The fear of so called “justified-by-the-law” can make the man that was crucified disappointed by it all.

They will get what they deserve in the end, but as of now it’s not good to pretend.

Drink. Drink up.
Fill yourself with BCAA and whey,
The extra nutrients, extra calories, extra power, extra powder,
Extra ego,
To fill yourself in more,
As if you aren’t already big enough to exist.

Eat. Eat everything you can.
Load up on carbs,
Stack on more proteins,
so you can do one more hang clean
At your 3 hour gym work out
In the morning.

Lift. Lift all your insecurities.
You know sculpting your body
Is also people wanting to sculpt you
Into more than just skin and bones.
But after all that,
You’re still just skin with bones.
More muscle,
More masculinity,
To mask that fact
That you were secretly
upset.
Too small to be successful.
Too minute to be a man.
Just a failure.

By some standard
Who you are is not enough,
You need to be tough.
You need to be able to lift up a bar with 400 pounds
To be able to go reps and rounds
Of benching 20 pounds over your PR (personal record)
You set just last week.

Decreasing in size, in weight
In numbers,
Somehow makes you less valuable,
Somehow makes you less man.
Less human.

You did this for you,
As all the dudes do,
But most do this for them.
The them,
The they,
The people that say,
“Do you even lift bro?”

But when will they stop lifting
the burdens that others throw on them?
The extra 100 pounds won’t make
the weight of the pressure, the shame, the unreal expectations
Disappear.
Lifting what you, what guys, what men hear
Off of their shoulders
Is the ultimate PR.

(She) you love me for being broken,
Broken into like a jewelry store.
Only to be left with
Shattered sapphires
And checked out cash registers.

Broken for being loved
In such way that love
Not only
Breaks a heart,
But shatters a soul’s
Insolence.

(He) you love me broken
Broken in general
For the room is more
Infinite.

They adore my brokenness
To bend me inspire than one way
Sedated to know manipulation.

Yet, I am enchanted.
Yes, despite the broken strings of the broken
Strum that still brokenly echoes off pitch in the broken
Storage that allows
Things to come and go
In one piece,
I am splendidly shattered.
The broken only breaks
What must be fixed.

I stand before you,
as a creation from countless conflicts;
a birth from burned bridges
that history tries to bury,
covering the truth with dirt and mud and soil;
but, even the forgotten seeds
may grow through the toughest of toils;
may sprout from the slightest of sunshine
when skies reflect the blood, the tears, the dull gray stains
that drip through the very blood in my veins,
descended and blessed by my ancestors
who struggled then so I can have my todays.
History is not just his story,
or their story,
but my story as I came from the roots
from my people who left legacies
in the seeds
that sprung
through struggles
and survive through me–
living,
breathing,
sprouting more seeds.

I have added value to myself,
Subtracted negativity from my health,
Divided my time into sections,
And multiplied my worth beyond perfection.

Do you know how it feels to be called a chope?
do you think you can cope with this feeling of not feeling dope?
Is communicating so hard that when you speak you almost choke?
I know how you feel, not to mention sad and broke.

Even though I was born in cali,
I was still bullied for being a fatty,
lived in a house of nine but it felt empty.
My father worked two jobs I barely saw him
My mom couldn’t be here legally
and didn’t want to come illegally.

My auntie tried replacing her,
but couldn’t and I won’t ever blame her
she had three kids of her own
and had enough worries of her own
I had to face my problems, couldn’t run.

Didn’t have the newest clothes
Didn’t have the trendy brands,
I wanted to be a G, I wanted to be in
at least I would have a rag to brag about,
good thing I never took that route.
For months I carried weight in my bag that
was so heavy my bag ripped and my pants sagged

My confidence kept on dipping
and I kept on slipping,
Graduation was coming quickly
and college seemed like a possibility,
I promised a better future for my family
I told them one day I’ll drive a Bentley
I don’t care too much about the money
But in this world we gotta get by financially.

A home for my family I will provide
As long as I have enough to get me that
My pride will remain intact
and I won’t ever have to sell my soul to get me that.

I respect the law but won’t stand next to ignorance,
I won’t apprehend or praise negligence.
These borders don’t protect us
these borders disconnect us,
add fuel to the burning hate!
open up the gate,
A human is not an alien
Make American Great again?
when did America stop being great?
A human is not an alien,
DON’T you dare use that term again.

I’m the last sip of coffee in your cup,
the last one before you are done ‘til the silence.
I’m down next to the bottom of the paper that holds me,
next to the unsaturated sugar cubes
which were set free by your touch to dissolve.

Warmth is fading every second
When you forget to breathe life,
into the small sky of mine which
Lies there as docent to my oblivion.

I fill life in your skin,
Kiss the night away from you.
Though you finish me away in one sip,
I’ll find a way to come back to you.
And though
I was under your skin last night,
You will miss me, ’til I greet you with ‘morning love delight.

I live for open windows during showers

Warm water and cool breeze after hours

The east coast draws me near

Shaky leaves, no skyscrapers here

Life moves and so should we

18 years in one place isn’t where you oughta be

Telescopes, I’m looking into space

Tryna find rebels, James Dean not a trace

In the mirror is where I stare at myself too long

Out of body moment a being is Living standing on

Two feet of distance between me and the moon

Rocket reaches its final circuit when the flowers boom

Sleeping over at girl’s house dreams of a real life

Till then my adolescence will give us a taste what real feels like

Time is here and I’m there wondering where it can go

Pondering what’s the purpose for 18 years

And just as its clear devil’s advocate plays out in my head

Will I ever get the answer? I don’t want to wait till I’m dead

Even my mind is not safe
I can’t escape the thoughts that bang against my skull until I can’t see straight
The thoughts that never stop and make it almost impossible to breathe
I gasped for air as I beg my mind to be silent
It knocks me around, making me light-headed
A whirling sensation sends me to my knees
Unable to move, paralyzed…
Because I am afraid that the next move… will be the wrong one
The voices in my head only get louder, making it hard to focus
All of it, destructive and isolating
I feel alone even when surrounded by friends
Always thinking I will say or do the wrong thing
Terrified at the thought that their smiles could be fake and their kindness only temporary
My only comfort are the consoling whispers in the back of my mind
However, it gets hard to listen when they are being drowned out by the deafening screams in my head
The ones that tell me:
I am not smart enough
I am not strong enough
I am not good enough
The ones that belittle me and make me feel small as they tell me about the reason for it all is that something is wrong with me…
And too often
I believe them

When will my flag pledge allegiance to me?
I am the resident on the Standing Rock Reservation
I am the black student who is told misconceptions about slavery
I was the man at the bar who was shot up in Orlando
I am the child who grew up in this country and am being threatened deportation
I am the autistic person who is struggling with a job
I am the woman who covers myself and is still not protected from rape
I am the young girl who is fearful to wear my hijab
Why is no one forced to stand for me? Where are my riots?
When will there be great conversations and debates for me?
I want to be respected, beloved, valued
I, too, am American