Here In My Head

Poetry and writing blog by an American High school student. Thank you for reading. This blog is an extension of: hereinmyhead2.weebly.com check it out(:

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Amazing news!

I have been accepted into ECA (Educational Center for the Arts) in New Haven Connecticut. 

I'm so grateful and proud and excited. 

Thank you, thank you <3

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It is official. I just moved all of my docs/pics etc from my broken computer to a flash drive. I have accepted the death of my first love. What stage of grieving am I in? Am I almost done yet? 

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On the bright side I have old selfies I can post now *devilish smile* muahaha

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Write me

Write flying

Write me high

Write me sober

Write how I die

Write me in love with you

I already am

but nothing is real 

until written by a man.

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Words

Vibrations of the vocal cords

do not matter

it is the 

vibrations of the soul

that affect me

most

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Trust

I held out my heart in hands not yet calloused by the grit of life

And you broke it

You broke it until it blended in with the black sand of hate

This is how I learned not to trust people

You pulled my hair and told me I was ugly

You compared me, in a similar way Shakespeare compared Juliet to the sun, to your pitbull

My mother told me you liked me

This is how I learned not to trust people

You told me you would never leave and you laced a chain around my ankles

You bound us together with prayers whispered in between kisses trying to force me to trust you

The weight of your prayers hunched my back, the rust of your chains caused me to bleed. 

This is how i learned not to trust people

You sat across the room, on cold wooden floors with your eyes closed. 

You did not look at me with unattainable expectations or ambition 

This is how I learned to trust people

You were content when I had to leave the room and breathe on my own for a while

You did not question me when I returned 

This is how I learned to trust people

You anchored me in the storm, holding me tighter than necessary, but still not tight enough. 

You told me it would pass, like so many others, but this time, I believed you

This is how I learned to trust people

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Goodbye Letter

I'm writing our love poem on the inside of my skull

So I will always know where it is

even when I don't know were you are

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Teachings of my Guru: A Probably Reoccurring Segment Brought to you by: Wisdom

Everyone is looking for something different. 

That's amazing. We are wandering around this Earth bumping into each other everyday and yet... we are all here with a different goal. 

What even more amazing: that which everyone is looking for, is available. There is enough for you to take in what you want and become happy, and then pass it on to someone else and for them to take in what they need and become happy and continue the cycle. 

So we must each pray for each other to find what we want and become happy because when a person becomes they shine and when they shine, we shine a little brighter too. 

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yooooo I updated my blog....hollaaaaaa.... wuuuut.... word. 

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Oppress

Nothing. and I mean Nothing scares a white man like an educated  black woman They like 'em stupid knowin' they place two steps behind tha black man in the blacks only establishment  No, sir.  the year is not 1950 anymore.  But I know my place is two steps in front of the white man for every person the oppressor  succeeds in oppressing there are three more  two steps ahead waiting for him to turn and look them in the eye so they can poison him with their strength Every oppressor  Despite their target      women       jews      blacks       disabled      "inferior"  has failed to see the beauty  in the oppressed  beauty, in this context, meaning faces Because in that face  lives the spirit of defiance it burns in their eyes bathes in their  teardrops and sleeps in the curve of their smiles growing stronger  Mama always said they must be from Egypt  because theyre drowning in denial  I didn't understand her for the longest time but then I realized  when I watched a flouncy little white girl  win an award I struggled for and rightly won Then I saw the struggle  to keep denial a live in the way  no one made eye contact with me  at the ceromony where I sat in my award accepting dress with no award they were drowning  in denial   that  I exist the educated unashamed black woman

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Romeo

I was so busy  looking for my Romeo  that I didn't think to become him myself

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Skin Deep

How many poems have been titled Skin Deep ?  Hundreds thousands every poem I've ever written was titled this  in some way and still we can't get it though our heads as a whole species that there is more to being human that flesh and bone

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The One I Never Got To Share

I never minded the rain I had even placidly watched it sink into the fleshy earth some lonely nights And accepted it's refreshing alms on blistering summer days that was before the drops had weight  before they clung to me like a thousand ball and chains but as I rest in this darkness, sinking slowly to the bottom, the weight restricts my breathing and pulls my indifferent body deeper in  Nothing has ever felt as good as the weight, and the darkness, and the depth my lids float open, allowing themselves one last glance,  Now that I look back on it, maybe I opened my eyes hoping to find her And I did I found her in the light two million miles above me I found her in that milliliter of hope forcing me to open my eyes, extend my rheumatic fingers, and break the surface I found her in the way my toes, gnarled by the misfortunes of chance, labored to catch her My eyes were still fastened with the ballasts of my own sorrows when her fingertips grazed my eyes In that moment, the ballasts exploded into miniature balls of light Illuminating my world for a fleeting moment and freeing my lids to open the floodgates through which her beauty surged filling me with her trilling laugh and an overwhelming desire to touch her Just as I reach my withered roots towards her luxuriate tendrils they retract beckoning me to chase her  she skitters though the forest Native to the collective consciousness of the unadulterated earth tapping leaves, feathers, wings, stems, any piece of nature extending a hand in dance to her exchaning essence and love, she travels  tranquilly  through her home They welcome her , and she them I stagger after her, every step is thunder warning the plants to put away their flowers and the birds to cloak themselves in tree leaves I am an alien in a foreign land blinded by the light after being birthed by the dark unable to touch you , again I lose my breath This time not weighed down by water but burned by the light My fingers trail your periphery, like Sisyphus feeling the edge of the hill-his victory-before watching his boulder fall short again and like the boulder, I fall, weighted by the collapse of my fantasy  I feel it's suction beneath my feet charming me with its cool, refreshment, baiting me with its consistent drift If she is the sunrise, then I am midnight with a moon so new it still smells of the big bang

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Hold Me Down

Hold me down I dare you Try to keep me under your thumb In your sight Under control Wanna hear a secret:  You can't   Hold me down and I will burn you to ash  from underneath you like a fire in your stomach flames in your mouth Keep me under your thumb tear the nail from your restraining finger so you bleed a river I can ride to freedom Keep me in your sight I will disappear  and I will haunt you

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Worth

I am worth more than silence I am worth more than passive aggression that  bubbles into rage I am worth more than our worst moments together I am worth more than all of you combined  I am 

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To Be Perfect

I never claimed "To Be Perfect" I left it there like an award on a pedestal I could never live up to  Let it sit above me  content to live in the shadow of  "To Be Perfect" Content that you liked me the same Content not to fuck you harder than you hated yourself in the words of Mr. Wakefield  Until you called me up one day and left me a voice mail it said soemthing about  your persuit of "To Be Perfect"  and how you hated me  for not joining you  for not clawing and scratching  to stand on the pestistal  reserved for  "To Be Perfect"

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Our Old Mountain

I hiked to the mountain today to find us  I hiked to the mountain today  to breathe us in  I hiked to the mountain today  to breathe the air we once shared to water the flowers and remember the past  to lay the bones of our love child on the freshly watered plants to remember that Rumi told us that to see clearly we must first shed our tears  t0 remember that its okay to be alone with my sadness, and pain to watch my tears flow down through the grass to wash Earth' s hair with my tears I hiked to the mountain today to breathe us in I hiked to the mountain today to find us

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Angel

You.  Are.  Beautiful.  You're not sunkissed or tall, Blonde of busty But you. Are. Beautiful . Beautiful like a blue-skinned, six-armed goddess, waving bloody knives, and parading a necklace of severed heads. Beautiful like the shattered shrine of a pillaged villages still beloved by the people/. I marvel at your fly away hairs, worship broken finger nails. Sacrifice myself to your bruised, contused  hands Pray to your chapped, bleeding lip. Blessed are you fingers as they lace into mine Your tongue a preist, mine a fallen altar boy. Hop across the freckles on your face, stepping stones to the oasis of your lips Travel along your blood vessels, pretending they are trees to the holy mecca of your heart I will never trade you in for a bible thicker than your two clawed wrists  Instead bask in the way the sun mirrors your kiss I will fall to my knees for you. Everyday, pray, morning night and noon Because you. Are.  Beautiful.