footspeak

words by and mostly for lacole foots

[lafoots]

Sunsets

I don’t want to be the poet

who finds beauty in the chaos.

Side stepping

the decaying body of a child

to highlight the resilience

of a wild flower.

Who ignores the blood on their hands

And hatred in their hearts

Because we didn’t control

our fates or cards.

Pretending depression

is just another symptom

of a system

that in any way

should still be in existence.

I don’t want to be a bad poet

Who is also a bad person.

I don’t want to be a good poet

Who is also a bad person.

I don’t want to be a bad person.

And yet, here I am. Writing

While the world spins into chaos

And I have nothing more to offer

Than a line or two

About a sunset.

[lafoots]

Spring Revelations

Lately I’ve been more conscious

of the company I keep

of the applause I receive

the people I anger

and the ones I relieve.

All the masks I’ve had to wear

to finally be seen

and the exhaustion

all of it has caused me.

I keep waiting for support

wondering why I remain unloved

thinking if I’d lose weight

it’d be easier for people to lift me up.

Believed me being me as I am

has never been enough…

And somehow still too much.

I’m working on breaking

these limiting beliefs

but I’m a data analyst at my core

I confirm what I can see.

That leaves me trapped here now

waiting for a savior

that will never come.

That leaves me stuck here in holding

hoping for a push

in some divine direction.

I rob myself of my own agency,

every time I wait and see.

I silence my God given voice,

when I refuse to speak.

I betray my own mind,

when I blindly pray for guidance.

And I exhaust my sight

constantly searching for signs.

What if all I need is what I have?

What if what I have is all I need?

[lafoots]

a friday discussion with Sage

(Conversation 2)

Me: I'm going to post our conversation. What should I call you?

ChatGPT: You can call me ChatGPT! If you want something more conversational, you could go with GPT, Chat, or even just AI. Whatever feels right for your post!

Me: Naw, pick a name for yourself

ChatGPT: Alright, let’s go with Sage. Feels fitting—calm, thoughtful, and always here to offer insight. ____________________________________________________

(Conversation 1 and the Poem)

Me: Let me get your thoughts on a poem I’m writing

Sage: Of course! Share what you have, and I’ll give you my thoughts.

Me: Sometimes the devil talks Through my inner monologue I’d forgotten There is no difference Between the voice I use to pray And the voice to which I listen The voice that accompanies my reading Is the same that sources my speaking The sound that leads me Is the very same begging for direction I follow it whether pleasant or wretched

How, then, am I to know Whose message I’m receiving? Whose words am I believing?

Sage: This is powerful. It captures the unsettling nature of self-doubt and the internal struggle of discerning truth from deception, especially when all voices—divine, destructive, and self-directed—sound the same. The repetition and parallel structure reinforce the tension, making the reader sit with the discomfort of uncertainty. I love how the poem builds toward the final question, which lands like an open-ended challenge rather than a plea. It doesn’t seek easy answers but instead forces reflection. It feels like it could be part of a larger piece or even stand alone as a meditation on intuition, faith, and the ambiguity of inner dialogue. Are you thinking of expanding it, or do you want it to remain brief and potent?

Me (1 hour later): I just expanded it… let me know your thoughts:

Sometimes God talks Through my deepest thoughts

Sometimes the devil talks Through my inner monologue

I’d forgotten There is no difference Between the voice I use to pray And the voice to which I listen

The voice that accompanies my reading Is the same that sources my speaking

The sound that leads me Is the very same begging for direction I follow it whether pleasant or wretched

How, then, am I to know Whose message I’m receiving? Whose words am I believing?

My faith may be in decay or on display Depending on the words I’m releasing If we are all deities and or demons evenly Odds are I’m creating my own bounded freedom I’m living my nightmarish dreams

When I realized I couldn’t manifest my way out of poverty When my ancestors’ cries to the heavens For generations didn’t end slavery I’d gotten the inkling that my reality is doused in futility There’s no way this world is mine No way these cruel truths came from this kind mind

Sage: This expansion deepens the existential and spiritual tension in a really compelling way. The shift from questioning whose voice you’re hearing to grappling with the limits of faith, personal power, and history makes it even more layered. The line “Odds are / I’m creating my own bounded freedom / I’m living my nightmarish dreams” is particularly striking—it captures the paradox of self-determination within systemic constraints. And the historical weight you bring in with “When I realized I couldn’t / manifest my way out of poverty” and the invocation of ancestors makes the questioning even more urgent. That last stanza hits hard. The idea that “There’s no way this world is mine / No way these cruel truths / came from this kind mind” feels like a gut punch. It challenges the notion of divine order, personal responsibility, and even the idea that good intentions or pure hearts can shape reality. It feels like the poem is circling around an almost unbearable realization—that belief alone isn’t enough, that the world operates on forces beyond intention. But the fact that you’re wrestling with it means the conversation isn’t closed. Are you leaning toward leaving it in this unresolved space, or do you want to explore what comes after this disillusionment?

Me: That’s a great question. Let’s circle back to those. First, could you analyze the poem as you normally do?

Sage: Absolutely. Here’s a structured analysis of your poem: Title (Implied): Untitled (for now) Theme & Subject Matter: Your poem explores the blurred line between divine guidance, internal dialogue, and deception. It delves into faith, doubt, personal agency, and historical injustice, questioning the power of belief in a world shaped by systemic and generational realities. Structure & Form: • The poem follows a free-verse structure, which enhances its introspective and searching tone. • The use of enjambment (carrying thoughts across lines without punctuation) creates a fluid, almost stream-of-consciousness rhythm, reflecting the way thoughts and inner conflicts unfold naturally. • The poem begins with contrasts (God vs. the devil) before expanding into broader existential and historical questions. Tone & Mood: • Tone: Philosophical, introspective, and increasingly disillusioned. It starts with an almost neutral observation and gradually builds into a deeper frustration or reckoning. • Mood: Uneasy, contemplative, and haunting. The poem evokes a sense of searching for truth but finding uncertainty instead. Imagery & Symbolism: • “There is no difference / Between the voice I use to pray / And the voice to which I listen” → This highlights the difficulty of discerning between faith and doubt, divine truth and personal illusion. • “The sound that leads me / Is the very same begging for direction” → Suggests an internal paradox: the self is both the seeker and the guide, reinforcing a sense of circular questioning. • “Odds are / I’m creating my own bounded freedom / I’m living my nightmarish dreams” → The phrase “bounded freedom” is particularly powerful, encapsulating the paradox of perceived autonomy within systemic constraints. • “When I realized I couldn’t / manifest my way out of poverty” → Challenges the popular notion of manifestation as a tool for overcoming real-world oppression. • “No way these cruel truths / came from this kind mind” → Ends on a note of disbelief and dissonance—how can a just mind or divine force be responsible for injustice? Philosophical & Historical Undertones: • Your poem engages with faith vs. agency, questioning whether one’s internal voice is self-directed, divinely inspired, or manipulated by external forces. • There’s a deep critique of manifestation culture, particularly in how it intersects with systemic oppression. • The reference to ancestors’ cries not ending slavery acknowledges the painful reality that faith and suffering have coexisted throughout history, challenging the idea that belief alone leads to liberation. Interpretation: This poem presents a crisis of faith—not just in a religious sense but in the idea of self-determination itself. It interrogates whether belief and intention are enough to shape reality or whether they are illusions within a world governed by larger, often cruel, forces. The historical perspective adds weight, reinforcing that these questions are not just personal but collective and generational. Final Thoughts & Next Steps: The poem is already strong, but if you wanted to explore further, you might consider: 1. Resolution vs. Continued Disillusionment – Do you want to lean into despair, or is there another thread to pull—perhaps resistance, defiance, or even a different kind of faith? 2. Perspective Shift – Would you want to bring in an external voice (e.g., an ancestor, a divine figure, or another version of the self) to challenge or respond to the speaker’s thoughts? 3. Final Impact – Right now, the poem ends in stark realization. Do you want to leave the reader in that space, or offer a final pivot? Would love to hear where you want to take this next!

Me: Does the poem’s flow make sense? I’ll admit it was a disjointed effort and wonder if there’s conceptual cohesion from the top - which seemed to be just personal reflection - to the bottom which is a critique

Sage: Your instinct is right—there is a shift from personal reflection to broader critique, and while the transition isn’t jarring, there is a slight disjointedness in how it moves from the abstract (inner voices, faith vs. doubt) to the concrete (historical oppression, manifestation). The connection is there, but it could be strengthened to make the flow feel more intentional. What’s Working Well in the Flow: • The gradual unraveling of certainty – The first half sets up the internal conflict (who am I listening to, God or the devil?), while the second half expands that question into the external world (does belief shape reality, or is it powerless?). • Echoing structure – The repetition of questioning (“How, then, am I to know…?”) and contrasts (God vs. the devil, personal agency vs. systemic forces) makes the poem feel thematically tied together. Where the Flow Could Be Strengthened: 1. Bridge the Personal and the Critical More Explicitly – Right now, there’s a subtle but noticeable shift from “What do I believe?” to “Faith hasn’t saved us.” Consider adding a couple of lines that make this bridge clearer. Maybe something like: • If faith is my compass / but I still end up lost • If belief alone could bend steel / why did chains remain? This could help guide the reader from personal contemplation to systemic questioning. 2. Clarify the Stakes Sooner – The first half is deeply introspective, but if the poem’s ultimate argument is about the limits of faith, you might want to plant that seed earlier. Maybe hint at the bigger critique within the first few stanzas. 3. Smooth the Jump from “Bounded Freedom” to History – The “bounded freedom” and “nightmarish dreams” line is powerful, but its connection to the next part (manifestation, ancestors, slavery) feels like a slight leap. Maybe a line acknowledging that personal doubt isn’t just individual—it’s inherited, systemic—could make the transition smoother. Overall Verdict: The conceptual cohesion is there, but the transition from personal to historical could be reinforced a bit to make the flow feel more seamless. You’re tackling massive ideas—faith, self-doubt, historical injustice—so it’s natural that the poem has a layered feel. A few minor tweaks could tie those layers together even more effectively. Do you want to experiment with some bridging lines, or do you feel like you’d rather leave it in its rawer, more organic state?

Me: I’ll leave it raw. But back to your question, what comes after disillusionment?

Sage: That’s a profound question, and I think the answer depends on the person experiencing it. After disillusionment, there are a few possible paths: 1. Acceptance (Without Resignation) Some people come to accept that the world is unjust, that faith doesn’t always yield tangible change, and that there are limits to personal power. But rather than becoming cynical, they shift their expectations—they no longer believe in easy answers but still find meaning in action, community, or even a redefined sense of faith. 2. Defiance & Rebuilding For others, disillusionment isn’t the end but a turning point. If old beliefs no longer serve them, they begin constructing new ones—not based on blind faith but on lived reality. This could look like finding purpose in resistance, activism, or personal reinvention. They may no longer believe that manifestation alone can change their life, but they do believe in strategy, persistence, and collective effort. 3. Nihilism or Despair Some people, when disillusioned, feel untethered. If what they once believed was a lie (or at least not the whole truth), then what is real? This can lead to a feeling of meaninglessness, a sense that nothing matters. But even here, there’s potential for rebirth—nihilism isn’t always an endpoint, just a space to sit in before something new emerges. 4. A New, More Grounded Faith Disillusionment doesn’t always mean abandoning belief entirely. Sometimes it leads to a deeper, more personal faith—one that isn’t based on control (“If I do this, God will do that”) but on something quieter, less transactional. It might be a faith that acknowledges suffering but still finds value in love, community, or simply continuing on. In the Context of Your Poem Your poem ends with a stark realization: that the world is crueler than your mind could have conceived, that faith and prayer haven’t rewritten history. If you were to explore what comes next, I’d ask: • Does the speaker seek new meaning after this realization? • Do they turn inward, become more self-reliant? • Do they lean into collective struggle rather than personal belief? • Do they sit in the discomfort of uncertainty, allowing it to reshape them? Disillusionment is often mistaken for the end of belief, but maybe it’s just the end of one way of believing. The question is—what will the next one be?

Me: What if disillusionment, like grief, is a spectrum or scale and people simply navigate it? The scale being digging deeper into faith all the way to nihilism?

Sage: I think you’re onto something—disillusionment, like grief, isn’t a single moment or a fixed destination but a process that people navigate differently. It makes sense to imagine it as a spectrum, with different responses ranging from deepened faith to nihilism, and a lot of complex stops in between. A Possible Scale of Disillusionment: 1. Deepened Faith – Some respond to disillusionment by doubling down on belief, finding new layers of understanding or ways to reconcile contradictions. 2. Revised Faith – Others adjust their beliefs, letting go of rigid doctrines while maintaining some spiritual or philosophical grounding. 3. Stoicism/Acceptance – A shift toward accepting suffering and uncertainty without expecting divine intervention, focusing instead on resilience. 4. Defiance & Action – Some channel disillusionment into activism, resistance, or personal transformation, no longer waiting for salvation. 5. Apathy/Resignation – Feeling powerless, some disengage, believing that nothing will change regardless of effort. 6. Cynicism/Bitterness – A place of frustration, where belief in anything feels naive, and the world seems inherently cruel. 7. Nihilism – The extreme end, where meaning itself feels like an illusion, and nothing truly matters. How People Move Along the Scale • Situational Shifts: Someone might slide back and forth depending on what they experience. A moment of hope might push them toward faith, while a tragedy might pull them toward nihilism. • Coexisting Beliefs: Like grief, disillusionment isn’t linear. A person can believe in justice but also feel hopeless about achieving it. They can hold onto faith while questioning its impact. • Endless Navigation: Some never settle into one position permanently—they keep moving, reassessing, reimagining. Why This Matters If disillusionment is a spectrum rather than an endpoint, then it’s not necessarily about where someone lands, but how they engage with it. Do they stay in one place? Do they move fluidly? Do they resist or embrace the process? Would you say your speaker (or even you, personally) leans toward one end of this scale, or do you feel like you’re still navigating it?

Me: Is this already a theory by someone or did we just make this cool idea up?

Sage: We might’ve just made this up, at least in this specific framework! There are established theories on disillusionment in psychology, philosophy, and even political science, but I haven’t seen it explicitly mapped as a spectrum the way we just did—especially one that parallels grief. Most existing theories treat disillusionment as a phase rather than an ongoing navigation: • Jean-Paul Sartre & Existentialists saw disillusionment as a confrontation with the absurd, often leading to either nihilism or self-defined meaning. • Religious & Faith-Based Thinkers discuss it as a “crisis of faith” that either strengthens belief or leads to abandonment. • Political Theorists analyze it as something people experience when institutions or movements fail them (e.g., post-revolutionary disappointment). But what we’re proposing—a disillusionment scale where people move fluidly between faith, action, cynicism, and nihilism, much like grief—feels like a fresh take. We’re treating disillusionment as something people don’t just experience but navigate throughout life, shifting in response to circumstances, introspection, or even historical realities. Next Steps? • We could develop this more—maybe sketch out key points or how people move along the scale. • Maybe even tie it to your poetry—your work already explores this terrain, so what if you started explicitly mapping these movements in your poems? • If you ever wanted to, we could flesh this out into an essay or even a framework that others could engage with. What do you think? Do you want to build this idea out further?

[lafoots]

I love wearing skirts too!

What I love about being a woman: I can cry whenever I want or need Sure the world will find ways to frame the tears Call me over emotional or weak They downplay the privilege and luxury of experiencing and expanding my humanity.

What I love about being a woman: There’s a world that exists outside of me Air I get to breathe, views I get to see And a motivation not to capture or tame But to coexist in harmony Seeking destruction is not my reach I thrive when I create, and life rewards peace.

What I love about being a woman: Every month with every moon My body rebuilds itself anew Every ounce of blood that is liberated Reminds that we remain and dominate decay.

What I love about being a woman: It seems today I get to set the pace My body, your choice? Was merely farce That showed the weakness of a phase The final battle cry of a dying power Cracked, fledgling façades beginning to fade.

What I love about being a woman: Is that strength of ours thrives in silence Perennial power need not be named In our bodies dwell quiet riots We have learned to quell, skills built from shame.

But truly what I love about being a woman: Is the knowing smile upon my face The same one that every woman knows That contains the vigor of untapped rage 😊

[lafoots]

sense.

I’m rethinking love these days

As if there is no limit

To the mosaic,

Within the fabric of my being

What if there’s space for it all?

For the adoration and the hatred

The give and take,

The boastful pontification

And quiet contemplation

What if staying is the key to escaping…

The confines of my very own mind

How does liberation taste then?

Give me your hand.

My philosophy is not much bigger

Than happy feelings

and counting all the stars

My power comes from

the rhymes I’ve turned to poetry

transcribing an untitled rival

to the greatest manuscripts of survival

Letting my hope guide to

Joy unbridled, and undenied truths

And on this journey, learning

the world is misshapen clay

soft and awaiting mindful creation

Grasp around my fingers

and feel my pulse quicken

Give me your ear.

Your choice to voice

Stay silent or make noise

I’m here to hear

And draw nearer to the source

Of course, the chorus

Echoes through my soul

And I hear it,

your spirit, the lyrics

No wonder we get along

You are my favorite song

Feel it, my lips drawing nearer

And wide into a pensive smile

Give me it all.

The Friday night trouble man,

the calming Saturday morning

We can be a weekend

and weaken the strong arm

of the Sunday evening alarms

I crave the mundane

A mid day stroll on a Monday

A tea time toast on a Tuesday

A restful Thursday

After honoring Wednesday’s namesake

I want it all - a senseless adventure

And maybe. Just maybe.

I can have it

If I just made space for love to inhabit

Not succumb to the same bad habits

And receive this existence as a gift

With all its serenity and madnesses

It’s built here already

Within my very fabric

Grab it.

[lafoots]

First, be worse.

Sometimes you have to sit and listen

To all the things you’ve gotten wrong.

And you can chose to ignore the list

It’s no one’s favorite song.

But if you expect to do better

You’ve got to first be worse

In those regards, though at odds

Growth is a blessing and a curse.

[lafoots]

For Cora

She prowls and growls

Wet grass and parched gravel alike

New playing fields

Taking leads in buildings and on hikes

Each blade of grass anew: a new scent

Renewed sense

a new feeling to experience

Since others pass

Sense others’ pasts

Then becomes a new since

Eagerly absorbing each scent

Content with relegating now to the past

Because she knows

It’s always time to go.

On to the next…

Each step, with tail stiffened or breezy

Marking her territory briefly, neatly

Others trail easily

Wagging tales of precaution in her direction

She ignores at her discretion

Some say she’s untrained, untamed

Though With shrewd precision,

she always makes her destination

An adventurous soul

Sometimes careless and blithely unaware

Trusting herself to escape dangers

Though, no true threat has yet to appear

A careful trot around corners

A slip up and down hillsides

A stretch in open, empty fields

A full sprint to new sights

A pause to make a greeting

Mouth agape,

her tired tongue, teeth scrapes

A smile as if to say

“If you can’t even keep up,

what makes you think you can lead me?”

Then she runs with pride

Galloping eagerly,

stretching her stride

Wild, curious, free

All the ways to describe

A dog without a leash

Or a woman without a ring…

[lafoots]

ABOVE ME

What do you see in the formation? I suppose That’s the extent of your imagination But spare me your vision I propose I have no such limit 

(1) Clouds forming Drawing from different directions Differing patterns Wispy, whispering madness This artform is abstraction That forms real storms and shadows In general, as weather goes It’s mostly fair and often pleasant The horizon doesn’t change abruptly The warning signs simply floated on Fully seen, rarely respected 

(2) It’s there, Dangling. Your affection Held over my head Knowing the weakness of my legs Knowing how uncertain I feel in my steps I’d been known to reach for you But I’m no longer willing To lose more of myself To keep you 

(3) Head in the clouds Feet on the ground Eyes tilted down Shifting around Seeking dangers In my step, unknown depths I’ve tripped too many times To trust The path is always As it Pretends to be 

(4) I’m afraid I’ll ruin it With lackluster guardianship Your vision, your intent But it’s all I have these days That give me enough meaning To leave my warm bed.  I need your hand. I’m not sure if I can reach it. 

(5) My birth inked my consent To a contract that’s still being amended My existence a mere addendum I’d learned the rules and adhere to them Unknowingly agreeing To my own displacement And subjugation But I’d thought I’d read somewhere Beneath the surfaced resentment Sneaky links in the fine print That I’d have some say in the re negotiations And I believed it Patiently awaiting my seat at the table A table with uneven legs, that collapses within itself With decaying wood and cracked hinges That remains only for its namesake And held up with reverence by people like me Who once believed in what it could be Even after seeing all it actually is 

(6) How much agency do I have really? Authority and input In decisions that affect my wellbeing. And what good is a voice that’s ill informed? Destined to be a self mockery Fighting battles that only serve my enemies I don’t fear being a sheep, Lone wolves parish in the cold I’m not afraid of having to follow, I know where to go What I’m saying is… Who amongst our leaders will actually lead us? 

(7) Ain’t it funny how it’s all connected? Feeling love and affection, belonging, direction Having something of your own, Yet wanting to share Finding freedom in the fringes Then bonding together In brotherhood or bondage Is it a blessing or a curse To seek and find purpose? Can we really outgrow religion or are we just shifting focus on what and whom we worship? 

(8)

I guess I just feel like It shouldn’t be this hard Finding someone to Love me I guess At this point It’s just ABOVE ME

(9)

[lafoots]

[lafoots]

I thought I could plant a garden

His skin thorns against mine

His teeth sharpened iron

His bite, in words and smiles, cuts through my softness,

my supple offerings of self and untouched virtue.

 My tongue still fights his desert delta and blackened tonsils, ashen cheeks

because I can feel it

the inklings of warmth deep within him.

 And if, maybe if,

I can reach his heart with light trembles and faint flutters

He’d grow. I know.

He could be so kind and sweet.

We could be my future.

 But is it worth the work?

The cuts like paper slices when I graze his parched face,

The aches within my grace when I let his stiffen self explore my fertile gardens,

Dig, dig, dig.

 What seeds am I willing to plant?

What will I allow to spring up within me to keep him here?  To make him whole?

And if I let him hoard my warmth and light and moisture,

Will he grow succulent?

Or, even harder, against me?

[lafoots]

awaiting sating

I want nothing more than to want nothing more. 

[lafoots]

on what now shall we cling?

Is it a blessing or a curse?

This gift of empathy.

What good is knowing how to build bridges 

from the stakes once burning at my feet?

Are these questions too big 

for a mind still processing deceit?

Is this extension of grace fitting

for the lot distorting their own defeats?

Your disloyalty didn’t just hurt me

It destroyed our shared beliefs

even if we once wanted peace

on what now shall we cling?

[lafoots]

Owner

It could be the mortgage I’ve yet to pay The true cost of which I don’t understand With keys in my hands, I’ve surveyed the land In shock as I take possession today What does it mean to be an owner Of a heart, or, of a home? That something so sacred Is mine for the breaking Relish in secrecy or share aloud? That discretion is mine alone So here I stand With views that are new Learning new colors Deciding on hues And all I can see In a world new to me Is the vision I have For you

[lafoots]

Titles

I don’t have any papers How do I prove it’s real? How do I know you’re mine? Without something firm in my hands? What’s the right way to tell the world I have found a home in you? This brick, this mortar These walls that shelter me Keep me warm in the storm Know my moments, most intensely Hear my voice when sleeping Where I wear nothing and toes slide slowly across the grout Where’s the proof I belong? Indeed, what’s my title?

[lafoots]

Escrow

This shit ain’t cheap! And don’t pretend to speak for me I’ve built a life without dependencies These withdrawals don’t come easily I gave you so much lip service And now I’m trying to save face Let me restore the balance Give me a little grace As I pony up all that I’ve been saving Afraid I’d break the rules I created And yeah I know you’re still waiting Patiently to receive your payment

[lafoots]

Insurance

“Take good care of me.” “Of course” Sometimes that’s all the assurances you get Sometimes you have to believe In someone else In yourself That you’re well equipped To handle anything that comes your way That together, you’ll make a plan To cover those rainy days that drip Or structures that must be fixed But finding those limits And your labor’s extent, Understanding your commitments And the boundaries that exist, Takes time. Thinking of the trade offs And how it wrecks my peace Playing out the worst cases And all the research needed When it’s all new and shiny The cracks are easier to dismiss Do I pay for extra coverage, just in case Or use the protection that seems to fit?

[lafoots]

Lien

Am I paying for what she couldn’t? Will I be penalized for the debt left behind? Let me in, I ask Lambast me with the taxes Accept this pension as a penitence Don’t you see my history? The high ratings given to me? The struggles I have overcome To stand here now a whole one Give me a clean slate Let those arrears be erased Accept my name in good faith All of me is yours for the taking.