Wide eyed , Bushy tailed

Just grasping for straws, hoping I pick the longest.

[sentimentalbeing2001]

I Worried, Mary Oliver

[anxeious]

[fontenotpoetry]

"Time Will Tell"

I thought I had time to fill my cup.

The world would bend to my whim.

Time would STOP when my limit breached the rim.

Suspending sanity's seeping stream,

sacrificing seconds,

to sustain a station,

solely supported in superficial suspense.

I thought I had time to count pennies,

until I learned enough sense to earn dollars.

Making money seemed like a breeze.

I'd get rich with ease.

Never thought surviving

would be my expertise.

You know?

Before finessin' was the only,

reliable profession.

Stressin' replaced school-house lessons.

I had to start clockin' blessings.

a humble distraction

from inadequate earning.

I thought I had time to go "fishing" in the sea of plenty

before swept away by matrimony.

Enjoy the tide of "company".

You know?

Before settling,

and the dread of menopause.

Believed love was only an effect,

of something prolonged lust could cause.

I thought I had time to grow

before facing accountability.

The only toll my mistakes would pay

would be in humility.

I thought living would be EASY!

I have to apologize to my mama,

for undermining all the parts of life,

she handled and didn't let us see.

Also, thank her for instilling faith in me; so

when all my thinking got ahead of me, and

when my "cupeth ranneth over" with anxiety, and

when the currency didn't match my emergency,

so the finessing became an urgency,

yet I depleted all my energy, and

when the nights became lonely.

Her voice over the phone,

wasn't enough to console me, and

when all the people relying on me to SHOW UP,

started pointing out ALL THE AREAS I hadn't grown up,

you know that faith she instilled,

gave me strength enough,

to hold my head high

because no matter how tough

I know, "GOD, AIN'T DONE WITH ME YET!"

-- Delajaie (fontenotpoetry.tumblr.com)

[fontenotpoetry]

Sweet Relief

I felt relief, so shortly,

to my disappointment,

it was replaced with;

regret, disgust, longing, and worry.

Somehow with this,

concoction of emotions,

I managed to brew, fear and hate.

Where's the relief?

Your actions dug you the wrong way out of prison,

and the thought of you suffering, surprisingly,

doesn't spark joy but,

worry, longing, disgust, and regret.

- Dela Jay

[fontenotpoetry]

The Limit Does Not Exist

I created limitations,

for imaginary situations.

Sentenced myself to execution,

begging the almighty leniency in one's decision,

seeking permission to live without my sins,

casting an intervention.

I remember when these worn t-shirts,

grazed my knees, padding my prayers

as I said, "Lord, please bless my family some ease."

Now, the same shirt tends to squeeze,

stifling my lungs making it hard to breath,

as the same prayers, I scream.

The onlookers can't fathom how I still manage to dream,

as if failure is a handicap, too debilitating

to continue creating,

to continue praising.

I have too many blessings,

to continue guessing my expiration.

I have unseen destinations.

What limitations?

-Dela Jay

[fontenotpoetry]

I am glad you stuck to writing your poetry

[fontenotpoetry]

Chance of Romance

Constantly accused of treason.

Always the butt of the teasing.

Took the pain and fueled my creating,

but the audacity distracted my concentrating.

All the labor I put in  building my image,

demeaned by someone else’s nonsense meaning.

Although my track record showed different,

nothing could ease your temperament.

Out of confusion, 

you slandered my name with words of destruction,

but still I never served repercussions.

Just accepted your half-hearted apology to end the discussion.

However, the words can’t be undone,

and your excuses aren’t deceiving anyone. 

The repetition my feelings have to succumb,

surprisingly have still not gone numb,

The wrath you unleash makes me question 

where it really came from.

Has this animosity already conquered your heart and won?

If so, why do you let me keep fighting?

Shouldn’t this situation just be done?

It seems I have no chance

to make your heart flutter and dance.

I’m holding on to a fictional romance.

Correct me if I’m wrong.

Not with your words,

because I’m still damaged 

from the ones you’ve hurled,

from the ones I didn’t deserve.

Correct me with a feeling of longing.

Humble yourself for once,

and release that essence that feels too controlling. 

Pay me some mind, 

and recognize my tears that'd been flowing. 

Embrace me with the loving energy

that deserves forgiving,

and than maybe I’ll consider continuing. 

Show me for once,

I’m a priority, 

not a commodity.

Let’s overcome the transgressions of your aggression,

take this altercation and return to a state of blessings. 

Our energy hasn’t been the same 

since we set stressing aflame.

Don’t you understand?

My heart ain’t a game,

and others are no longer to blame.

All the love you proclaimed needs to be re-framed,

needs to be centered, so I can finally feel it again.

I’m in need of some caressing,

in need of a soul grasping gazing,

so I know you’ve truly learned your lesson,

so I know our love passed the testing,

so I know there’s no more second guessing,

so I know my loyalty is no longer in question.

I’m willing to start a new beginning,

to place all bets on us, 

won’t even put up a fuss,

if you can guarantee we’ll reap the winnings.

I’m not ready for our story to end,

our love’s so pure,

I feel it’s worth the effort to defend, 

no need to pretend. 

You swore, my being came into existence solely for you.

You said, God heard you pleading.

You said, he answered you while dreaming,

he knew exactly what you were seeking,

at first you didn’t know what he was removing,

but you said you could feel something was missing.

You said, it all made sense when you saw me,

that I was your rib, and without me 

your vessel would never see completing. 

You said, my presence was relieving and 

finally the message God was preaching,

was no longer misleading. 

I was equally as grateful,

you helped me end my grieving,

showed me the light was still gleaming,

You were strong when I started leaning

from all the wrongs I’d been keeping.

You taught me the power behind God’s teachings,

and together we committed to believing,

started kneeling instead of disagreeing.

The feeling was so freeing.

When did you stop leading us to salvation?

When did my well-being become less appealing?

Is there any hope left of this succeeding?

I’m tired of weeping, 

my brain’s raising flags,

telling my heart she should consider retreating,

but I can feel God intervening,

telling me the love I’m feeling,

may be worth proceeding,

but I’m growing impatient.

It’s getting harder to control my breathing, 

as I Imagine you leaving.

My chest tighten from the thought of this ceasing,

and there’s no easing my pain when I’m dry heaving 

from the mere mention of your name. 

Now my conversations with you are utterly mundane,

and leave a distinct taste of disdain.

My hearts remains maimed,

and I truly don’t mean to complain.

I’m just having a hard time trying to sustain,

because when I attempt to make you ascertain,

none of my emotions you retain.

Everything I did, 

Everything I do,

it feels like it was done in vain. 

You can’t continue to refrain,

when I need you to explain the change. 

You got me out here looking deranged,

because somehow I still believe this was preordained. 

Perhaps it’s time for this to elapse,

for me to cut myself some slack,

for me to let go of this hopeless romance. 

[fontenotpoetry]

Ms.Cellophane

Ms.Cellophane,

your presence is clearly there,

as you raise your voice to the air.

How resilient you are,

as you preserve others just to be discarded for another.

How reliable does your ability to be pliable have to be?

How much reliance do you have to maintain to no longer be a convenience?

It’s apparent, you no longer want to be transparent.

Unfortunately, your fragility hinders your visibility.

Ms.Cellophane,

you must face reality that you were created as a nonce,

but don’t fret my dear, that does not correlate to a dunce.

So save your tears, although you remain sheer.

You’re comprised of material that’s not easily destructible. 

Your being is tangible,Interchangeable,remarkable,

and if the world lacked your existence 

they would soon recognize their pittance, 

and seek you once again for your assistance. 

Ms.Cellophane,

your necessity is plain to see.

Try to be more forgiving,

many don’t possess your degree of sensitivity.

You’ve been naturally gifted with undeniable clarity.

Try to be more patient,

while you hold on to your sanity.

The trials against humanity undermine your sense of vanity.

You must allow leniency for their vision.

Your glint may just not fall in their prism.

Your worth is your decision.

-JDF

[fontenotpoetry]

Anxiety is...

Anxiety is scientifically proven, but worldly denounced. 

Anxiety is apparently invisible,

but as I feel the sweat pouring down my face,

and my heart beating out my chest,

I can’t help but to feel as if all eyes are on me.

Anxiety is painless even though I’m struggling

to form these words through my fifth crying spell today.

Anxiety is not a disability,

which is hard to believe 

when you’re on the bathroom floor 

in the fetal position, gasping for air, 

because your roommate said something triggering.

Anxiety is only for the weak and faint hearted,

which I truly believed 

until my PCP gave me his personalized 

anxiety diffusion techniques,

until my therapist admitted to having the same diagnosis,

until I noticed how Barack Obama’s hair 

grayed rapidly over a four year term.

Anxiety is like being a painter 

with all the colors of the rainbow at your repertoire,

but too afraid of being judged,

and too nervous of using them wrong

you paint in black, white, and grays. 

Anxiety is relating more to a zombie 

than to a human, 

or at time being too human,

to be human. 

Anxiety is therapy three times a week, 

just to tell them your anxiety,

on a scale from 1-10,

is consistently a three,

on a good day.

Anxiety is not knowing the ending,

so just stopping before you get ahead  of yourself.

[fontenotpoetry]

Mr. Siddity

You walk with an air,

as if bestowed the heir.

Life was designed to humble,

but you’re adamant that,

you’re above the rumble.

Now you’re in a state of stasis,

and can’t fathom how to embrace this.

Too consumed in your self,

to notice the lesson you should’ve learned,

has been shelved.

You refuse to take accountability,

and push off responsibility.

Oh, Mr. Siddity, 

you’ll never receive my pity. 

[fontenotpoetry]

Skin

Your nectar was something I never tasted.

It had a way of changing,

although the affects were damaging.

I chose your poison,

the lies you’ve woven,

just to hold on to the lovin’.

Your absence,

still is hard to make sense of.

I still long for your presence,

even I know I must be dense,

I can;t even offer 

enough repentance

to dissolve your

remaining eminence. 

[fontenotpoetry]

Dear Mama

The love you bare,

does not compare,

to the love you give.

My attempts at comprehension,

revolves around my “sensitivity”,

but truly your availability,

is what’s needed in orbit.

Consistently your arrogance

demeans my resonance. 

Stop patronizing me 

with hear say, and listen.

My constant berating for attention,

only results in your anger to swiften. 

I’m unsure of where compromise lies,

or if that option will even suffice.

The tension between us,

is buried deeper than the surface,

but reaching the depths is the purpose.

-JDF

[fontenotpoetry]

Poison

Dissolved my past transgressions,

burned my desperation,

mourned my dissolution,

and as I approached redemption,

the ashes of the past fluttered down,

and began pollination.

My tormentor was never truly dead,

just took a detour.

There’s no cure from torture,

the venom from reminiscing past toxicity,

can ruin things in your future proximity.

Balance yourself, practice symmetry.

-JDF

[fontenotpoetry]

Why Not Me

Time tattered my vision,

tore through my creations,

forced my aspirations into hibernation.

Weak, drenched in desperation,

I cried, “Lord provide my dreams with some redemption”

The silence infuriated my spirit,

and I gave into temptations.

I cut corners to reap benefits I didn’t sew,

I reached an all time low.

Weary and confused I cried,

“Lord, why? Why not me?”

In that instance of humility,

I received salvation.

-JDF

[fontenotpoetry]

I Surrender

I ponder where an individual earns their worth,

is there one particular source?

Everyone’s wandering in circles,

hoping for a miracle.

God grant me the values 

that transcend this vessel,

remove trivial idols from 

my mental pedestal,

unlock treasures that bring forth

more than worldly pleasures.

I surrender my own understanding,

and give my soul to follow your bidding.

Personally, that alone makes me feel worthy. 

-JDF

[fontenotpoetry]

Bruises

I can see the galaxy’s endless 

possibilities in the bruises,

they have to be Satan’s muses,

because pain shouldn’t contain beauty.

I replay the days that have long went away,

because that’s when happiness was a certainty.

I never minded my heart being a causality,

never imagined the damage would leak into a physicality.

Your demeanor changed so rapidly,

I accepted your rage casually.

In my confusion, I calculated the trajectory of your perpetual

force as a form of infatuation.

The bruises are all that remain from that situation.

[fontenotpoetry]

See You Later

Seems like in an instance,

life flashes past your face.

I’m trying to separate 

my pain from yours truly can’t imagine 

what would make you act in this fashion.

The gospel dispels my anguish,

attempting not to take the butt of it,

truly God didn’t sentence you to punish.

I pray you found peace,

I pray the pain ceased,

I pray your understanding of life increased,

I pray God can make this make sense,

I pray your family shoulder’s relax,

become less tense,

and their sorrow is rinsed.