TruthTalesNoTales

Poet, Youtube Content Creator, Musician Of Sorts & I'm Your Lovely Secret Nook 

[lovelysecretnook]

TruthTalesNoTales on TikTok

#asktiktok Has progress been enough? #blackpoet #spokenpoetry #poetrytok #booktok #mlkday #fyp #foryou

[lovelysecretnook]

TruthTalesNoTales on TikTok

original haiku #poetry #fyp #foryou #spokenpoetry #poetrytok #mypoetry #poem #blackpoet

[lovelysecretnook]

TruthTalesNoTales on TikTok

Original poem, #fyp #poetry #mentalhealth

[lovelysecretnook]

Why She Stays

She lost the taste of rustic copper

When her mouth filled with blood

Her taste buds can only recognize the red

As sticky and wet and part domestic

Someday it will be the last time

You knead her dough like face with

Anything unkind

Cause she will leave -

Someday

But that someday

Isn't today

Today, Sunday

You approach her from behind

Wrap your apologetic arms around her

Kiss her between the spaces of

Her ears and her sensibility

"Beautiful" is the first word you whisper

"Sorry" the next

"Never" the third

You apply this verbal ointment until

her stiff limbs mold soft again

Which only reminds her when

She was only soft for you

When she loved loving you -

The boy with the jungle gym laughter

So woefully she holds back a smile

She wants for the hundredth time

To love you like this is not a disaster

Like your fists were never Katrina

Like her levies to stay never broke

Her remedy for the morning after

You called her beautiful and socked her after

Is her imagination

Today she decides to be open and on

The cobble streets of New Orleans

Before her battered face turned rouge

Before her body - your church, caved in

The sun is hitting her

in all the right places

She lifts her hands up to the sky

And tries to catch all the rays

You laugh

She smiles for real

This time

Hallelujah! She is safe

For today

[lovelysecretnook]

Dear Racism in America,

Tears fall creating puddles deep enough to Feel like oceans

Too vast for one to journey alone

Why am I constantly crying for people

I don't even know?

Something in me gravitates towards them

Connecting us in a sense

I sympathize for them

Because they look like me

Maybe it could have been me?

Why are you, America, systematically racially

Profiling me?

Questioning my very existence

Why did they even bring me here?

Was it to mock me?

Yet, they stereotype me

Keep me locked away like a slave in a cage

They call a prison

Mentally breaking us down

What are they afraid of?

Does my darker pigmentation scare them?

Remember slavery wasn't the start of

Our history,

But just a setback in our story

We derived from a place flowing of

Milk and honey

Skin moistened with shea butter

And coconut oil

And yet our skin SCREAMS of testimony

It is not only a war cry.

I, am not only a war cry

Our bodies - are not terror torn war zones

Our legacy is not drugs, violence, affirmative Action or mass incarceration

Heaven just met with the sun and then

Decided to kiss us

We are good times

Our family, matters

We met The Jefferson's then

The Obama's

We are cultured in that way, both

Boondocks and Boomboxes and Adidas, both

Flip-flops and hoodies and joggers, both

Congressman, lawyers and scholars

Our story, perhaps

From a white lens, is

More milk than honey,

More questions than answers

One reframe after we are re-framed

But America did you truly ever see us?

Truly?

For I feel the burden

Of our burnt out history

While your Confederate flag

Floats in the wind

I am always surprised

when you do not recognize

The smoke and the soot and

The ashes from the fire

Is the rebellion

Is the marches

Is the, how in the hell have we kept the Peace

When there has rarely been justice

Can you see it,

America?

From sea to shining sea

The water is not just sparkling

But salty and bloody

And filled with my ancestors crossing

[Juneteeth]

__________

Co-writer Pat.

[lovelysecretnook]

A Great Gatsby's Thought

Gold rusted rose of winter's past

Regain your color, your summer, your soil.

Be carpe diem, again and again and again

If you must, withering doesn't suit your bell-jar laughter

No -

Dying doesn't suit you at all

[lovelysecretnook]

On Notice

I have always been a Florida girl

A fact that many people know

cuz I have rarely left home

My head, full of wildly unpredictable locs,

have knicked and then knacked

with the ocean's red and then blue sunrise.

I'm often by the water, when I can help it

And when I can

I like to take the sea home with me

Be it in the form of seashells

I like the press of the conch up against my ear

So I can never feel like I left the shore, again

And again

I am like a wave

In this way, coming and going

Just to be coming and going, again

But I'm not pushing sand upon the shore

But a body

Fully black

Magically woman

Erectly lifeless, sometimes

It is strangely dark out here

The city's lights behind me, block out the stars

And only the buoys, the moon and the lighthouse

Bear witness

To me

Breathing in the salt air

To me

Taking a stroll

To me

Crying

To me

Laughing

To me

To me

To me

[lovelysecretnook]

Off Coast

I didn't want to be anyone's harbor

Or lifeline or lighthouse

I had my own ship to save

[lovelysecretnook]

Into The Light

I fucked with the lights off

Be it by the lightswitch or my eyes closed

I can't be sure, I believe it both.

Love making can be a bumbling

and a fumbling - thing;

I heard . . .

And what we did . . .

What he discharged . . .

What I . . .

Endured, was worse.

[lovelysecretnook]

A Reflection of Hair

As I unbraided the bantu braids

I put into my hair,

they uncoiled into my palms

Resembling roots

And I wondered . . .

Is this how plants feel

Loved, connected, grounded

Unfurled

unashamed

Bare

Beautiful

Tangled

A mess.

Is the earth a palm?

Skillfully untangling

Sweetly caressing

Artfully in awe

Of roots

Is this the brouhaha

Of a girl looking in a mirror

Trying to correlate hair into poem

Or turn meaning into hair

Or is there something special

About doing a remedial task

Like weaving fingers into hair

And feeling loved

connected

grounded

[lovelysecretnook]

A Great Gatsby's Thought

Gold rusted rose of winter's past

Regain your color, your summer, your soil.

Be carpe diem, again and again and again

If you must, withering doesn't suit your bell-jar laughter

No -

Dying doesn't suit you at all

[lovelysecretnook]

Fight

In those dark corners

of my mind, where bleakness and

doubt live, I resist.

-A Single woman haiku ( 54 out of 365)

[lovelysecretnook]

I Can't . . .

Budding buds of

anticipation, I can hardly

wait for you to spring forth

- A single woman writes

[lovelysecretnook]

Murders rage

My teeth mashed close and

My blood rose to volcanic -

heights, I, I, I, I

-A Single Woman haiku (53 out of 365)

[lovelysecretnook]

Lost

Find me where the lights do not go

Where water flows in all the wrong directions

Where I am enough for you

-A single Woman writing

[lovelysecretnook]

I hold a secret,

It is my blinding rage...

But my anger is rarely solid

No.

My anger is like a closet filled with cashmere dresses

All pretty

All rarely seen

All balled up into my hands

As I rip them wildly from the closet

I barely notice my face is wet with tears

I must clean this up

no, no NO, I damaged the wardrobe

Will the hinges close?

I sigh long as if dragging a cigarette,

Fuck it! There will be a new dress

for me to hang up tomorrow

I will fix it then

I will fix it...

Then.

[lovelysecretnook]

Construction worker,

Your tool is not the nail

nor is it the hammer

but your willingness

to wake before the morning