Mother.

My mother…
She never told me
That as a woman, when you love a man, you love deeply
Never spoke about the attachment you feel
Never explained the heartbreak that will fail to heal
The distraction, frustration
Series of irrelevant interrogation sessions

Moma never hinted the resounding word in your mouth, his name
Never mentioned the embarrassment and the shame
When the one that you love can afford to disrespect
Reduce your self-worth to almost nothing and then neglect

Mother never thought to mention weakness
The butterflies in your belly and the feeling of emptiness
Wanting to leave but feeling stuck..oh my goodness
She failed to explain the true meaning of contemptuousness

Mami never sang about stupidity
Or how after being ransacked of our feminine liquidity
We curl up and cry
Curse the day that you saw this man walking by
But at the end of the night, calmly lay beside and cuddle this new found demon
Slowly fuelling everything but his humility

Madre never talked about sexuality
How it’s complex even in its simplicity
She never defined the art of losing ‘it’
Or the hope that takes you on a journey to find ‘it’
The men that only want to be with you to have ‘it’
And those that stop to care after taking ‘it’

Nne’m never lectured about self control
In the heat of the moment, shut your mouth and go out for a stroll
Never taught me to master the will to be well composed
Or that there will always be situations left undisclosed

My beautiful mother never taught me about their kind
And now at 18, I struggle to understand
The difference between disaster and mankind
Love, hate, confusion and regret
The will to persevere and the fear of change

Ma mere never said that love was pain
Never begged me not to let my insecurities hinder me in vain
Because you alone will be left to wash your tears down the drain
She never mentioned that maybe..just maybe I might fall
Or breakdown when it seems like I can’t handle it all

Mummy really ought to have spoken to me
About the challenges that I would face being a woman in this day and age
But she did more than that
She showed me how to be strong
Indirectly but perfectly
On me, My mother never once did a bad job

Love,
A
x

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What..To..Write..

The world needs more poetry, more stories
More people eager to break free from the captivity of illiteracy
More souls to recite rhymes
More wise ones to tell the tale of past times
She needs more writers

But what happens when every tale has been told
And the moral behind them, no longer left to unfold
When everything has been written about
In the past, present and future tense
The good the, bad, the ‘I’m having a hard time figuring this out’

The world needs more fiction
A new generation of geniuses to retell old stories with newfangled diction
So what then happens to our poets
What tales do they tell
What tales shall I tell?

Shall I tell a tale about Christianity
A way of life rather that a rule we follow blindly
The level of disbelieve
Doubts raised by the theories our scientists conceive
Not at all. It’ll only be another story about people being dragged to hell

Shall I tell a tale about love
The one thing that no other emotion is placed above
About the affection I yearn to ascertain
Or the people I happened to care for in vain
Not at all. It’ll only be another story about the girl who believed in fairytales

Shall I tell a tale about nature
The trees and how their wood is used for furniture
The manner in which the river flows
Furry mammals and how they learn to make their individual burrows
Not at all. It’ll only be another story about that homeless nature loving girl

Shall I tell a tale about depression
The one feeling that’s closer to me than any other relation
The burden that it brings when darkness clouds your mind
Those demons that dine with you when you’re too weak to cast and bind
Not at all. It’ll only be another story about that selfish, suicidal child who thought they had it worst than anyone else

Shall I tell a tale about hope
And peace and happiness and love
There’s still gratitude and inspiration and serenity
And every other emotion I’ve ever heard of
Not at all. It’ll only be another tale about a young child who was only known for his stupidity

Or shall I tell a tale about me
My downfalls and short comings, Hopes and dreams
About me and him and what I hoped that we could be
About every scar on my body,
Dent in my soul
Relationships I kept, ever so rocky
My hurt and how no one ever bothered to console

But I’m no different
And my observations lie far from distinct
Because somehow the minds of every poet happens to be linked
No new words
No new experiences
No new expressions
Even our titles are being recycled

So now I urge the audience to let me know
If the heavens need more stories
And the earth, more poetry
What exactly shall I write about?

Love,
A
X

Nursery Rhymes.

I never thought much about nursery rhymes
Until I thought about the arms in which my heart lies
And now my thoughts have changed

I like to tell the tale of my love life
Like stories are told in a nursery rhyme
Don’t persecute me for my ignorance
It’s merely a crime

I like to think of the manner in which the children danced around
I too swayed with glee, my joy was unbound

The way the tune to each nursery rhyme remained enjoyable throughout the years
It was my name being said out loud with your voice, music to my ears

Like the soothing rhythm of each melodious lyric
His words flowed perfectly even to me, his number one critic

Resounding repetitions although just as exciting each time
‘I love you’ through his lips, the second time more body warming than the last

As some words were changed, forgotten or recently invented
So were our memories, the thinnest line between the truth and what I had fabricated

It’s jumbled up, so hard to explain
With more complications rising, either one of us can abstain

But no matter how many roses were red
Or violets were blue
Sugar will never know how sweet you were to me

Love,
A
x
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No Title – 1

“And if you ever tripped
I hope that I may be present
To subdue your fall
I hope that you land in my arms
And in them, find your haven
That my lips may be there
To cushion yours
But most importantly, I hope
that I may be that lucky person
Who gets you right back on your feet
Of that, I am certain”

Love,
A
x

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Drifting.

There I was, moving in a different direction
Our bearings completely independent of each other
He’s calling out to me but I cannot hear
Cannot allow myself to look back
Because behind me, a storm awaited
A way to familiar disaster
Reoccurring and indestructible
And no matter how many times I tried
No matter how much energy I channeled
The storm kept getting worse
Like my tears encouraged the rising waters
And my willpower contributed to the force that it carried
So now I’m sailing away
In an unknown direction
An unimaginable distance
He calls out to me once more
But I cannot look back
Cannot allow myself to feel the nostalgia boiling up
Cannot taste his lips and inhale his essence
I cannot be the same girl
So onwards I continue to move
Away from my situation and into the blue
I allow myself one last thought of him
Something to entertain my journey towards the unpredictable
So we’re sailing
No need for formalities, no point delaying
Due to the wind, involuntarily swaying
Slowly but surely drifting…apart

Love,
A
x

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How can I let this happen?

The wind in the willows whisper softly
Urging me to follow my heart
I take one step forward swiftly
But two steps back
It’s quiet, it’s dark
Full of uncertainties, a list of things that I cannot take back
Follow your heart they said
Let the words of love direct you in the right path
But how then can I let this happen?
When love is supposed to be the bright light at the end of the tunnel
Love, a combination of hope and happiness
Love, the absence of hate and regret
How then can I let this happen?
When the path that my heart has presented to me is incomplete
A thin line of rope suspended over a lake of fire
Narrow in it’s path, lovers are nothing but blatant liars
With a dark midst ever present in the surrounding
It’s hard to see, my vision is slowly diminishing
When the path leads me away from the love I was once used to
An inch away from the present,
one mile closer to the impermissible, unavailable, unforgettable
How then can I let this happen?
So I take a step back
And a few more
I’m now running a race in the opposite direction to the path that my heart has set out
Back in the arms of the previous
I can’t tell if I’m unwilling or dubious
Love still doesn’t live in this cold body of mine
But in the midst of all the confusion
I have learned to taste love with every sip that I take from each bottle of cheap wine
How could I have possibly let this happen?

Love,
A
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The Other Women.

J. We are the other women.

A. The ones that let themselves love a bit too much
The rejected

J. Outside looking in
The other face in the mirror
A reflection of my former self

A. We’re the ones to blame, we commited the sin

J. We hate the game . But we can’t change it

A. Overwhelmed by lust

J. Overwhelmed by love

A. It’s hard to fake it

J. Clawing helplessly at the seams of our broken heart
We search for absolution

A. Trying to put the pieces together
While we hold back our dark confessions

J. S , the scarlet let we bear on our chest
Reminding us we are nothing more late night steamy fumbles
Sluts

A. The voices in our head constantly bombarding us with aggressive words
We yearn to forget
Hope to be forgotten
But love holds us back

J. Bodies entangled in shameless exploration
Deep slow movements, small sounds escape my lips
A euphoric feeling between my legs
Orgasm

A. Profound yet, feeble
The slight rhythmic trembling of my physical form
Underneath his touch, his stare
His masculine figure stretched above me, beautiful and bare
For a moment, I was tricked into believing that I could be the one
His only one
But the other woman is who I have become
And the other woman is what I will always be.

Love,
A&J
xx

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A Thing Of The Past.

 

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The voices surrounding me keep echoing
My path to recovery, each time narrowing
Constantly screaming ‘It’s a thing of the past’
But they don’t see my poor heart enclosed in its own cast
Feeble from the hurt and the misery
Still beating strong despite several blows
They cannot explain such sorcery
My reason for persevering, not a single soul knows
Once bitten, twice shy
The third time, cynical
And they still dare to look me in the eye
Still dare to question my guts
Belittle my self worth while demanding to know my insecure thoughts
If disconsolate feelings are left to grow deeper
My body in turn will rot, making me a lot less eager
But the initial survivor never gives in
She yearns to rise again each time with even thicker skin
The initial survivor I once was but, I am no longer
As I cannot stop the tears
They flow while pushing through my anger
Cannot suppress my fears
Because within me, there will always be memories
But maybe one day this too will be
Similar to the extraneous hate being harboured within
Or just like the identity of a teardrop in the presence of the great sea
This might eventually be a thing of the past
But it’s hard to let go because in my case, the voices didn’t regardless of how many times I asked.

Love,
Disconsolate A
X

Proposed Signs Of The End.

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Voices,
They stay escalating
The pitch and amplitude,
Steady increasing
The compassion in our tone,
Slowly eradicating
Indirect attacks and straight forward insults,
No signs of settling
Words of evil being spat out of the serpents lips,
Intentionally belittling
Unkind professes and disrespectful messages,
In need of deleting

Anger,
Hearts are darkening
That unwanted nonchalant attitude,
Forever aggravating
The evil now embedded within us,
Stays encouraging
This recently discovered hate,
Pleads attractive
Ignored occurrences from the past,
Always compiling
The previously unmoved pair,
Slowly drifting

In the rain,
I remain dancing
The resentment I felt,
Once crucifying
Unwanted attitudes,
Forever demeaning
But the reality of it all,
Requires little reasoning
The end is in sight,
Slowly but surely approaching
The love that once burned,
Finally in need of extinguishing

Love,
A
x

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