#creativewritng

[cheetahwordspoems]

cheetahwordspoems: 88

20 July 2022

‘They Educate Me’

I feel like I’m built for potential.

You can reference my history or you can learn from my present.

To hear the value of their worth through me would sound like,

“It’s remarkable, an expression without words, I feel highly humble in appreciation. I am ready too learn.”

I’m open ears and all eyes.

Sit me down and unfold.

I’m full of motivation too find and fulfill growth.

Wholesome too the time spent, their moments.

I speak with raw integrity.

My teachers are inspirational;

The teachers from degrees

The teachers from the streets

The teachers making it happen

The lessons that served for me.

The prospective in the making now

The never ending desire too listen and learn.

The present moment learning history.

A history moment being made.

Too learn or too teach

Notes taken with a taught lesson, inspired by a shared motivation for a preach.

There we learn and inspire the potential growth among us.

By Yours Truly,

NCM

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[rin-3510]

something...something...

From the moment she opened her eyes, she was cursed. Even when the heavens tried to fix her, there was no use. At the girl’s first step she was walking upon hell on earth. Hot as lava and cold as frostbite. Where blood would be shed and life would be taken. As the earth spins its rounds, this girl would see horrors. Horrors that a human cannot withstand. One day this girl will want to end it all, and she will. But evil is not merciful. They will not let her soul go above and beyond the mortal earth. They will grab on to her, pulling her down under the water. Her soul will drown, over and over. Until she screams out, “I give up”. They will place her back in her body, one that is battered and bruised. She will never, ever be able to leave. 

[cheetahwordspoems]

cheetahwordspoems:114

January 22, 2026

Wholeness and Hope

There is angst in this room, all dialed in and all dialed out.

A solo pace. Wandering without sources, the vices.

Trials with a loud mind, and they mind.

That catastrophic layer unfolding, mending completely.

I’m nothing without my dusty past.

I’m without everything if stray from my preset.

I’m too far up my arse if my future doesn’t pass my test.

These walls are too thick and full of thoughts that come with a cemented gray area.

I swear these levels bend.

These synchronous secrets.

That silence that dances proudly between the dust, then the rest of this mess will rest…

It’s a loud move and feathers drop.

Quick questions, the pivot that talks the talk.

Unbundle my intuitions, straighten out the odds

There’s nothing left in this room but confident sins where the worries start tomorrow.

Bargaining for an ambitious wish.

This room is full of a casualness,

that little place known,

a heart that feels whole,

Completely home.

By,

NCM

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[cheetahwordspoems]

cheetahwordspoems: 113

23 September 2025

‘Shouting Stories—Silenced’

Delicate moments, the racket noise they make

Bundles of them—simmering together.

I’d thought they disintegrate by now, cobwebbed and unthreaded.

I’d hush them long enough, one would assume the noise would fade.

Their stories still telling and those remarks still told.

These skeletons in the closet, holding all the baggage I have ever owned.

I’ll be making the best of it. I’d dress them up, fancy and nice.

The whole lot of them, I have a car for them outside.

Buckle them up, take the bags too!

Here’s the card—drive them real far.

Sure of it, they’re unbreathable, they’re still…

The passkey of ol’ tales and unused reflections.

My movable spirit, illuminating a place to rest

A hankering desire too digest this gratitude,

The dust would settle by the time there is room to be humble.

A little mindful drift far, a little pull of closeness.

Finally, a shimmer moment of silence…

Delivery!

A nice shaken cocktail of goosebumps and chills handed to me.

Sure enough their bones would have grown brittle

They would disintegrate with no place to stay

More polished than ever, gleaming, and bright

They don’t come empty handed, I’d taught them right, their carpal base full of delights.

Some stale stench of coffin nails, and unhinged bottles

Grim photo albums and quirky fabrics

Only items worth praising, some dusty ol’ tones on the sparing jukebox.

They had a good time.

This I can stand—lyrics and all, the entry ticket to coping mechanics. Light weight, heavy weighted…

MORE BAGGAGE!!

How they know me so well.

I put them back, did my closet grow?

Is there more room in this home?

I take a bite of my heart, the words racing in my mind.

How old are these skeletons now that they’ve been out again?

The baggage feels quite light out of sight

The weight they truly hold…

How much gratitude is left to digest?

The dust sets, spiders spin their webs, a silence begins

Peace. Center. A soft humming is nice.

Not a word of time back then spared.

I’m quite polished now, half-shaken, good-deed doing.

Hard working and well rested.

Just a bland story, perfection.

Not a word of them shared, it’s fair. They’re just a muse.

Silence takes over on a snooze

A shout, “Let us in!”

I pause and brace

Drenched in baggage and roughed up bones.

Once upon a time a fool now with healed wounds

These skeletons hold the reasons I can understand some of the things I otherwise can’t.

Peace finally begins.

Nothing but a ol’ thanks to the sparing skeletons.

By,

NCM

[cheetahwordspoems]

cheetahwordpoems: 112

7 August 2025

‘The Uncovered Layer’

I recklessly made this hole

I dug it deep at the first sight of a threat

I piled mountains of dirt around me

When I look past this burrow I see stone walls

I lay and repent in the depth I grew on my own

Distance, unreached, and witnessed

Digging holes and building walls in organization

Constructing valleys to wander with thoughts over thought

Unbuilding walls, relocating them

I rise and repeat the complexity

These walls up and holes made

I’ll shed my worries here

Lay my overthinking to rest

Leave behind a landscape, only to visit

A familiar place to change

By,

NCM

[cheetahwordspoems]

cheetahwordspoems: 111 17 July 2025 'Enduring At Length'

Unfolding the sown hinges on my cap Pulling from the scraps of the past I'm wondering will the wit know, know the unfolded Remold again, reflect once again, and be as bold again.

Inner self-warmth, fabricated with paved paths, wondering nostalgically The grounded, yet curious, in the synchronous behavior, to be or not. To be present or to wonder anxiously Caught in a frozen act of charades Fingers get pointed at to the most atrocious scene We go on with our talk, bravely. Inner sinking clarity- what is to be. Here, boldly now.

The menace to ponder alone in my thoughts Slippery-sloppy and drop worthy, hanging on with threads showing on the dance floor. I embrace the strings, getting knotted in all the wrongs to laugh it off again. Scattered in the chuckles from the sidewalk talks An ego strong, from some, many of that tapped in, the cans, the don'ts, with what we should and should not, and all while keepin' on. Had I paused in the moment and spent another wonder in the now, I'd wow myself with all possibilities and keep strong. Unraveled by how the conversation talks. I'd wow myself, auspiciously with grace.

If my body signals the damn to be whole again. Love embarks to be home again, wholesomely.

Love,

NCM