Adulthood Poems

With A Gentle Hand MYSTIC

God’s hands are softer than the snowflake.
His tender touch feels like falling dew,
blown by a gentle breeze~
Soothing as a whisper on the ear,
a feather-stroke that lulls us to sleep
as babies.

As it was in our cots,
His tender touch still cares—
a guiding light for our feet
against the serpent’s bite.
And when troubles torment,
He calms us with His soothing

Childhood Affects Adulthood

Parents mold their children just like a pan to a cake
How ever you're instructed gives your life it's shape
What you're taught as a child you will never forget
Understanding the morals of others...
You will have a fit
Down from your failures to your major accomplishments
Learning responsibility on a job to timely paying your rent
Clueless that your parents

The blurred lines between childhood and adulthood

When the lines are blurred
How can we tell who we are anymore 
How do we know when innocence begins and when it ends
Or if it ever really happened 
At all
This was not everyone's experience 
But it was black children's

For a black boy who had to be  a man 
Before he could be a child

Darling, paint the eyes

Every morning I paint a pair of eyes
to see the world for me—
Mines scream at
the sky fracturing into neon glass.

The dazzling eyes I painted—
I use them to fit in
the crowd dancing in chemical haze
—reasons left out at the gate.
I use them to study
the rites of smoke
—to ghost myself in every exhale.
I use them to ignore
the

Crayon Box Dreams

Once, colours bloomed beneath my fingertips,
A world alive in every waxy line.
With careless joy, I painted paper ships
And skies where suns and silver moons would shine.

Each shade, a song of summers never gray,
Of laughter loud, of barefoot, grassy trails.
But now those hues have slowly slipped away,
Replaced by ticking clocks and grown-up tales.

The red of courage

as we Metamorphose

I once took my mother’s pearls
and wore them to kindergarten.
I wanted to look like an
Adult—
a word now bitter on my tongue.

In playgrounds, we believed
in monsters—
now we drink with them,
            learn their masks,
            mirror

Finding purpose

who am i?
where am i?
life doesn’t feel real
it feels like im spinning in a.. hamster wheel (repetition)
going thru days with no emotion 
in my mind, oh there’s so much commotion


where am i supposed to be?
oh i just wanna be free
it feels like im driving on a endless road 
not knowing where to go.
should i fly

Eighteen

Eighteen

A number that holds so much meaning 

Any individual who meets terms with this number never feels content

A singular tie to childhood is all that’s left

A bearing weight of adulthood near

An anxious sense of uncertainty for what perseveres

A sentimental responsibility for new freedoms adhere

The time in life that withholds the most confusion

When many individuals unfold

Glass Flask

In this empty heart,
There's a glass flask
With magic, corked up,
In the corner, forgotten.
Once upon a time,
It was open—
Heart enmagicked
With notions
To fly and measure the sky,
To sink in the world of dreams.
Now they live in the flask so great,
Forgotten, just like my sweet,
Smiling face.

Go back

Open blue sky and fresh flowers around,
Vibrant but enthralling that surround,
Unchained, untied, nothing to bother,
Much leisure and a long time to ponder.
There are no paths to go back.
Go back to the springtime of life.
Hold on tight to encounter many more in life.
Don't take the chance to lose your track.
No wonder! It feels like giving up

Go back

Open blue sky and fresh flowers around,
Vibrant but enthralling that surround,
Unchained, untied, nothing to bother,
Much leisure and a long time to ponder.
There are no paths to go back.
Go back to the springtime of life.
Hold on tight to encounter many more in life.
Don't take the chance to lose your track.
No wonder! It feels like giving up

MY SOUL LONGS FOR GOD

From childhood
Unto adulthood
I have tale-guided
My thoughts and inactions

Bible literature tells me that
Those who disobey God
Will find their space
In the sepulcher

While those who keep His commandments
Will join the heavenly host
And others
To celebrate with Pope Chaplains

Childhood to adulthood in my neighborhood

My future once seemed clouded in my innocent past,
A child so small and helpless, learning words so fast.
Mama's arms embraced me, soothing every cry,
And when sleep called, a gentle bed was always nigh.

Years have passed—now I hear them say my face is bright,
With strength and wisdom granted, shaping mind and might.
Haters fear my presence, knowing

From a child to an adult

Children who played so boundlessly
Out in the dew-fresh meadows
When the summer sun bathed life in chaos
And their hearts yearned so endlessly

Adults who sought so endlessly
In their fathers' glass houses
When night lights mirrored death in the frame
And their souls glimpsed so heartlessly

March 2020

March 2020
A serene morning.
I rouse to no ding.
Am I daydreaming?
I languorously lock my eyes on a clock.
It is getting on for 10 o'clock.
A muffled bang on the door.
I am not alone at home?
My wispy feet stomp on the floor,
Eyes engrossed in the spyhole.
A girl in a white top.
Grotesque features I evoke.
Her bright red lips mutter

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