when I was but a little girl we had a hammock
in our backyard between the trees
it was lovely to crawl in and let the wind caress me
back and forth
I would gather my doll close to my heart
and quietly spend hours swaying, dreaming
oh, so exquisite the wind- like a soft breath
a soft murmur in the trees
I loved the whooshing, hissing, and whispering
and the delicate sound of birds tweeting
I felt tranquility, serenity and calmness
and I could dream of beautiful places and things
as I lay floating in the wind
smelling the aroma of mothers flower garden
oh, the wind nudges me from my dream
with a pleasant poetic breeze
like a ripple on the water
and peace has wrapped me in her arms
Can someone help tell my heart?
How in the blink of an eye someone's world can fall apart.
My head knows that you're happier now,
I guess that's supposed to give us comfort somehow,
It doesn't!
I don't believe I will ever be a peace again.
You see I don't have peace without my best friend.
She was my Ride or die, The Bonnie to my Clyde.
I want to crawl in a hole somewhere and hide.
We have been so close for so many years,
I swear I just can't stop these tears.
My heart is broken and my world is shattered,
My insides feel like they are torn and tattered.
I have so much I wanted to say to you,
Smoke one more blunt and just laugh too.
So many memories I will always hold dear,
Dammit you should still be here.
I wish there were visiting hours so you could keep me from falling apart,
I think I finally got thru my head but can someone tell my heart.
Can someone help me tell my heart,
How in the blink of an eye my world fell apart.
Our bond was so special and her heart was made of Gold,
I will never forget all the stories we told.
We used to laugh for hours and we cried sometimes too.
Dammit I sure do miss you.
I crawl in the dark
With slimy cave walls
And dripping water
That lands on my back
I hear bats moving
And make my way out
have you ever been stuck in a hole so deep that you cant get out and whenever you try to climb out of the hole it just swallows you whole.I have have you ever been in so much pain that you cant let go so much pain that you'd rather hurt yourself because you think its the best option you have. have you ever been under so much stress that you feel like your going nowhere I have. have you ever wonder how much better others would be without you I have. have you ever wanted to open up but you just cant find the words or a way to open up to tell them what's wrong I have. have you ever been in so much pain that you cant even get out of bed I have. have you ever been in suck a dark place that you'd rather die then be alive I have. have you ever wonder what cause you'r pain or what's wrong with you I have. have you ever just wanted to crawl in a hole so deep and dark that no one would be able to ever find you I have. have you ever been in such a dark place that all you want to do is disappear and never return I have. pain is something that affects us all, all you can do is get up and keep moving even if it hurts
Open your eyes, Africa.
They have returned —
not with guns this time,
but with contracts and smiles.
You call them investors,
but they are the same colonizers,
only dressed in modern suits.
Why do you let your enemies
run your mines and gold fields?
Why do your children starve
while strangers eat from your soil?
Your copper, your lithium, your oil —
they leave your land raw,
and return to you as finished chains.
You cry for jobs,
yet you export them
with every ship of unprocessed ore.
Africa,
you are the pulse of the world’s economy,
yet you crawl in the dust
of your own abundance.
To the youth in the diaspora —
come home.
The continent calls you,
for the old guards have sold its soul.
Remove the thieves in power.
Their loyalty is not to the people,
but to the puppeteers who feed them.
Europe cannot live without you.
China trembles without your earth.
Then why do you kneel before them?
This is not the time to dream.
It is the time to awaken.
For the second colonization
is already here —
and its name is investment.
The house was rushed to the ground, your tapping leaves it unshaken, your words caused it to tremble.
All the things you'd say, all the walls you'd paint, ruining its glory, leaving trembling bodies crawling.
How do you see it now? How do you see these houses stretched across the nation?
How do you feel now that the gods have granted you tools, or will you go bare?
Don't be fooled, some say they hold up well, until you feel the thunder strike and it'll all collapse, before the bugs crawl in and fix the debris, what's left of shards and bricks will be washed into the sea.
Battering wet cement, you lay it thick on the ground,
past soil to the core, no questions asked.
The land has been crowned for many things,
but never the sound of a roar.
You wait till its voice grows softer than sore.
These walls want to forget, but it's hard when the builders are the visitors and the debt grows worse each time the bills come due.
I'm falling— falling so far, I wouldn't even be able to begin to climb up.
It would be pointless, for I would die before even reaching halfway.
I crawl in circles of this dark pit, waiting for rain to drink— but it dries before reaching me.
I will die if I climb, die if I stay.
I won't try, because I will die anyway.
Always the world splinters—
the world breaks, fractures,
yet we lean into the cracks,
as curators, as keepers,
guardians of each other’s troubles
We gather the fragments,
hidden deals, relics, left-overs.
Embers still warm from the hearth.
Praying to self, I was near you once,
and it mattered, it burned,
it endured, it lasted, and mattered.
In the prance of happenstance
uncertain, trembling, raw, delicious,
we shuffle our scarred tokens,
knurled with abraded edges,
blurred and charred—
still radiant, still reflective, alive.
Laughter bends into mirrored halls.
Mirror on mirror aligned;
none showing the same viewpoint,
a shifting, stuttering constellation,
echoing a thousand selves
crying out together in reflection.
We are more than simply ourselves.
We are the harvest, the gathering.
We are the constellation.
A mosaic of cracks, left uncovered.
Where we let the light crawl in.
We are a threshold, an opening.
Where the light breaks in—
through the doorway
cherished as broken,
not worth fixing, nor mended.
Never broken enough,
Never done enough.
The door is broken.
Let the light come in!
One,
Two,
Three,
Four...
Shadows crawl in hope of escape.
Five,
Six—
Interrupting thoughts and fear demand attention.
“Hello, I'm here.”
The mind cowardly answers the call.
Life unhinges — unlocking the greed of depression.
The door opens, welcoming the darkness into the house with no lights.
Allowing the destruction to flood centre stage.
No spotlight needed.
He's strong, surrounded by the blackness.
He's seen. He's heard. He's felt—
He's home.
His cravings satisfied as he feeds on the vulnerability,
The instability that’s nested in these walls for so long.
Laughing at the echoes of loneliness,
He unleashes the pain that was suffocating behind a smile-shaped mask.
The pain that was locked away for a reason.
The pain he knew would not say no.
His easy target.
His prey.
Hugging one another, depression smirks and leads the way,
Knowing he’s conquered the land of the house with no lights.
He settles in. It’s his house now.
There is no more counting.
There are no more shadows.
It’s quiet,
Dark,
Finally home.
Dark
shapes
twist and
crawl in the
corners of my
mind. Silent
whispers fill
the air, cold
and choking.
A breath
catches, then
slips away as
I reach for the
light that’s too
far to touch.
Eyes watch
from the
depths of the
void. I can’t
move, can’t
scream. I'm
trapped inside
the suffocating
storm of my
own fear, lost
in a place where
shadows never
leave and hope
fades to dark.
I have a lot on my mind lately and no one to talk to
I have a ton of reasons why I’m tired of life but I was taught to keep your head up
I can only control what I can control
Everything else I’m learning to let it go
God works in mysterious ways and he always comes through for me
Every night I crawl in my bed
I allow my brain to go empty
No worries and no stress
I’ll just lay here in this bed until I have to get up again
All I ever want in life is to win and succeed at everything
Sometimes I allow things to eat me alive
A lot of times I hold so much in but when I hit that pillow
There’s only tossing and turning going on
Thankfully my brain is not on and I can breathe again
Sometimes to relief myself I need to think of nothing
“Hey, Mom”
Hey, Mom!
I can’t sleep.
I’ve been awake for hours.
There are dragons at my door.
“Come crawl in beside me,” She said
“I’ll chase them far away.”
Hey, Mom!
I stubbed my toe.
It hurts really bad.
“Let me see.” She said
“Oh my gosh. I think it needs a kiss.”
Hey, Mom!
Johnny said I’m fat.
He makes me mad.
I want to clobber him.
“Come here a little hug will do,” She said
“You’re a diamond in my eye.”
Hey, Mom!
Can you take me to the park?
I want to ride a merry-go-round
And play in the sand.
“Let's ask a friend,” She said
“I’ll pack a lunch.”
Hey, Mom?
Could you tie my shoe
And button up my coat?
It’s cold outside.
“I’ll walk you to the corner,” She said
“And see you on the bus.”
Hey, Mom!
Can I stay up late
And watch TV with
You and Dad?
It’s time for bed
My little one
A little kiss will have to do.
Hey, Mom!
Would you read me
A bedtime story?
Sure, my little one
Now, It’s time to turn out the light.
“Sweet dreams,” She said, “Sweet Dreams.”
That’s what Moms do.
Hey, Mom!
“Happy Mother’s Day”
Body rejects itself,
Bone-dry and like a furnace,
It burns alive, kill
It is sand, dead
Dig two graves,
Refuse to rot,
This isn’t revenge.
Hate the body,
It’s nothing but problematic.
One ear open,
Stay somewhat conscious.
Maggots crawl in the body, tearing under the skin,
Refuse to rot, feel it inside-out.
Fling a rope,
It will not reach,
YOUR BODY isn’t strong enough.
I should have listened to my nieces,
they said it would fall into pieces,
when the temperature decreases.
Then all those dirty rats and meeses,
will crawl in through the cracks and creases,
and its effectiveness then ceases.
It sits heavy, like an iron weight
that’s held in my gut too many years,
longer than the son of God trudged his days
through dust and spit and bitter wine.
and who am I to think I’m different?
I’ve carried it past innocence,
dragged it through beds, through bottles,
through empty rooms with broken clocks.
I knew the lie before it learned my name,
and still I let it crawl in me,
make a home from my bones,
turn my heart to rust.
I’ve heard them whisper,
seen their glances dart and pierce,
and yeah, it should make me burn,
should twist me with rage
like a rag wrung out for blood.
But here’s the sick part: I forgive.
I let them slander, I let them sneer.
Maybe they think it means they won.
Maybe they think they’re righteous.
Me, I just keep on,
empty pockets, empty hands,
carrying the weight alone.
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