RemovedPoetry

[highoffculture]

[urbanxdivinity]

[itracing]

Ford GT40 in Gulf Livery

Image by Nick Rico || IG

[freediaspora]

[flyandfamousblackgirls]

Kelly Rowland

[removedpoetry]

The Waking Death

Churches stocks start rising                                                                                     hopes at an all time high.

Water levels sizing the levy                                                                                      like, “Why so low my guy?”.

A diesel chevy delivering Kuwait a piece of American pie.

Destiny teasing fate                                                                                                 with the tik’n tok of time.

I stand by,

watching it wither and unfold like the tide.

Plastic in sand                                                                                          seemingly sickled with cyanide.

Caustic molds of democracy                                                                                    in the mushroom in the sky,

as F-18s full of freedoom                                                                                         fly on by.

I stand by.

Self-righteous with a cure                                                                                         for symptoms.

If the price is right on                                                                                                on the victim,                                                                                                           I’ll give you a taste of the system.

Then rent it to your demons                                                                                     and claim I never got wit em’.

Whip it up in the kitchen.                                                                                          Whip em’ down the streets.                                                                                      Whip em’ behind the counter.                                                                                  Provide summer the heat.                                                                                  Provide caskets the bodies                                                                                  and get the kids to press repeat.                                                                              Make it catchy.                                                                                                        Create a dance.

And put it all to a beat,

with some base for your face.                                                                                  Knock that drop your teeth.

Call the police.

I never want to see my son again.                                                                          I hope he run up in school with a gun on em’                                                           and erase everybody ‘cuz of they skin.

Prayin’ to dead guys                                                                                                and spread lies for the win.

A dropbox campaign                                                                                                so you can join on in                                                                                        Hotbox the ballot you voting in,                                                                                so neo-nazis can make this country great again.

According to whom, who condones sin?

Is it something within’,                                                                                              or the law you believin’ in?

If it’s the latter,                                                                                                          you never seen the blood splatter                                                                          of your closest of kin,                                                                                              by some guy on a 9 to 5                                                                                          trying to stay alive that claims he’s neither foe nor friend.

Let the revolution begin,

with 3-D printed guns aimed at                                                                                pigs in a pen

or ink in a penitentiary.

Time to rewrite his story                                                                                           in the eyes of a worker bee                                                                                     who burned down his colony                                                                                   just to see what it’s like to truly be free.

It’s kinda hard to see,                                                                                              but the roots of a tree                                                                                              give the foundation of a leaf that shades the seed.

Still I believe.

I’m tired of waking up                                                                                              just to see us still asleep.

[removedpoetry]

888

I know you're there. I still feel you twirling me through your fingers for amusement. A pleasure only missed for a moment.

Or maybe I am misreading the signs. I no longer have the pole position on the anguish that once was. Your grief your longing your effort and energy spent on a new past. But I know your there.

I feel you pulling me out slowly. Ringing out that mistake that left you lost after a moment of bliss. You hide me but you never throw me away. You always keep a place for me deep within you. To remember the pain and the pleasure. You'll never forget what I feel like. You've never been loved like this and its throwing you off because I'm bad news.

But you know I'm here. Waiting. Waiting for you to admit it to yourself and me. Waiting to go again. Waiting for that next memory. To shine or shame. Waiting for the next life where I get it right. Our souls are drawn.

[removedpoetry]

Lover's Lent

mundanity embellishes memories of us.

never forgotten but hard to trust.

[allthingsblackwomen]

[fuckyeahjhene]

[stxfvni]

Shorts could never fit, & now they’re saggin’ :D (Taken with Instagram)

[kayahall-deactivated20121226]

[removedpoetry]

a 10

[removedpoetry]

There's nothing like getting lost in a crowd to feel normal again

[removedpoetry]

6:34 am woken

As if grief wasn’t grave enough the sun rises and we have to continue living like we don't need each other. My mother blessed me with a curse. A frail mind and a big heart lead to a bullshit love. A love forced prematurely to bud. I roam these streets draped in night dew. I wonder what the passing cars think as I drag myself up to a curb. My heart stopped last night. I wish I had stopped with it. I’m bound to this mind of mine. Stuck.

[removedpoetry]

3:02am the witching hour

Every spell casted works so well. They cripple they blind they anger they sting. I cast them with a twisted tongue only to roam the badlands barefoot alone. I spit venom into the hearts of all that listen to my plight. I am the witch.

[removedpoetry]

11:54 the night after

Its like you wait for the bed to move and then the stillness of it all reminds you that you’re alone. Then it moves. Then you know you’re alone and you know you always will be.

[removedpoetry]

The morning after 12:20

Grab the pillow. Leave the room. Every inch of carpet has a memory. Search for scents. The pavement gives to each step. And I take them. Make my bed on pine needles with the wolves die in the new moon's arms.