I have a strict morning routine,
my hairstyle is touchably clean.
Sometimes the curls go wild,
mirroring every thought growing.
Natural on the wind showing
an angle when profiled.
Never afraid to start over,
a new look’s a reinventor.
Taste is shown with a cut,
bringing about a toothy grin.
Radiating beneath the skin,
it’s that swag and a strut.
Way too feral to be tied up,
an iced coffee without makeup.
Real in the rawest way,
I can be out the door in five.
Free-spirited brunette’s alive
at the start of each day.
I built a temple for you
out of hours I could not afford.
Every prayer
was the shape of your name,
every offering
the sacrifice of my sleep, my breath, my will.
Devotion, I learned,
is a double-edged worship.
It is holy, yes-
but it is also hunger.
And hunger, when unanswered,
becomes desperation.
I waited at the altar
long after the candles died,
knees aching,
heart splintering.
Your silence grew taller than cathedrals,
yet I still bent my head to it
as if silence were proof
you were listening.
What kind of faith is this,
to kneel before someone
who does not even notice
the blood at my feet?
To believe in salvation
from hands that never reach back?
Still, I remained.
Because love, in its rawest form,
is not gentle.
It is a tether that bruises the skin,
a chain dressed as devotion,
a prayer whispered into nothing
with the desperate hope
that nothing will answer.
i love this love
that brings out the sacred and vulnerable
that can be tuned into and let out as art
in its rawest and deepest forms
i love the love that turns walls to dust
where sweet rays dont rust!
thank god for that,
i remember and smile
i love this love
where i can be unafraid
and let myself freely fall
in this gentle way,
that feels more like rising
thank you
i can whisper and smile
Life's beauty is hidden in strife,
For contrast alone gives meaning to life.
No darkness, no dawn,
No battle, no crown.
No winter, no spring,
No cage, no soaring wing.
No rain, no bloom,
No silence, no tune.
No fear, no courage,
No risk, no voyage.
No fire, no gold,
No spirit, no soul.
No doubt, no belief,
No sorrow, no relief.
No loss, no gain,
No clouds, no rain.
No longing, no art,
No end, no start.
No depth, no height,
No struggle, no flight.
No war, no warrior,
No front, no rear.
No life, no death,
No whisper, no breath.
No mud, no lotus,
No roots, no focus.
No pain, no poetry,
No heart, no melody.
Poetry isn't just about rhyme and flow,
It's the rawest truth the heart can show.
No pain, no poetry—not just a notion,
But the soul’s deepest, truest emotion.
Poetry is born from life's deepest wounds,
Yet it blooms like a flower in suffering’s ruins.
Alphabets gather as words unravel
the passing and returning of moans;
lines of phrases inflame the arteries
of beauty, angst, love interwoven
by imagination's pining.
Tingle of words… fragrance of vowels…
caress of verses enter the soul, as if to dive
into the very basin of layered expressions.
On a fresh scroll baring my bones
and rawest of mood,
I enter a daringly new dimension
with a theme that reels my senses
that ink and quill ravage fleshed pages
As poetry makes the eyes hungry.
She wakes, bare as morning light,
A face unframed, soft in sight.
Mascara lifts, lashes rise,
Eyeliner sharpens her guarded eyes.
Blusher blooms, cheeks come alive,
Contours shape what can’t survive.
Lip gloss glistens, a coy disguise
Her beauty speaks, but never lies.
By night, the mask dissolves away,
Each streak of cleanser blurs the day.
The mirror holds her rawest view
Which face is hers? Which one is true?
Today, l went whale watching
I was left in complete awe
The magnificence of these beautiful creatures
Hugged my being to the core
Their amazingly huge yet graceful bodies
Playfully breaching into the air
Slapping their pecs in the water
To their own grandeur… oblivious and unaware
It was a truly special sight to behold
Nature in its rawest and purest form
To see such majestic creatures
Engulfed my being with a joyful warmth
Running around her hair so untamed,
those curls reflecting wilderness;
Crass words fly forever blurting truth;
Sitting silent unless speaking truth,
through the years with a spirit untamed;
She’s the embodiment of wilderness;
Always so inspired by wilderness,
natural instinct’s the rawest truth;
Willing to fight to remain untamed;
The untamed wilderness is her truth.
It ain't too many things in life I'd do 4 free
I love writing songs and my poetry
Whats on my mind, put it in the rawest of forms
Straight outside the box so far from the norm
Mind boggling gotcha head spinnin
As I continue on my mission straight grinnin
I been through all types of things in this life
Everyday that I awake tryin 2 get this right
It's all on me gotta expand my mind
And apply the lessons to my daily grind
I ain't gotta shine but I do and it's cool
But don"t get me wrong
Ain't tryin 2 be nobody's fool
Didn't get 2 be this age bein no dummy
Got me plottin on different ways to get some more money
Watchin out for potholes that life puts in my way
Forever learnin the rules of this game that we play
you may try to make us feel inferior
strutting around with head held high and mighty
i wonder
is it for our sake
or just to cover up thy own inadequacy
fumbling your way around the factory floor
the bosses son soon to elevate to greater roles
i remember you
on your first day the rawest of incumbents
silver spoon still protruding
from your mouth
i gave you the strength needed
taught you everything
now I sit across from you
your eyes never to meet mine
no apology
when handing
the redundancy paper that says goodbye.
© Harry J Horsman 2021
Secrets of the Soul:
By Nishayel & Athina (circa. 2009)
The things we do to stay alive-
broken vision of a soul in the heart of the night,
What we gain can only be seen in our eyes-
a perfect deception, a perfect demise.
To question what the hearts body feels inside-
to melt into ice - which shadows of plight survive
It's hard to describe
All these feelings that I have inside
For they speak in such a language of disguise
to find in each truth- would be like
diving deep into our souls
and finding what we cannot describe.
Perhaps to be cherished in its rawest forms
'fore my mind, the light pulverizes it into mere rhyme
But I know deep inside
that my feelings are the motors to my rhythms
Listen!
Nights of everlasting beauties; insights-
light the moon's other sides; never in sight
Oh! The things we use to thrive,
are just the things we need to stay alive
I like you all unpolished
the words around three a.m.
the rawest version of you
when your words are pounding hard
all chipped with rough broken phrases
the fortress crumbled slowly
softly your pain pricked my eyes.
We file on through scheming life's snaring wiles,
Unlearning bitter lessons sad yesterdays taught;
Biting humble pies for blunders repeatedly made,
Yet unheeding despite like fights erstwhile fought.
Our one-way treks through world's tasking routes
Are at best rehearsals for imagined second walks,
Which infeasible rematch with sad selfsame bouts,
Fleeting breath rightly nips with her cunning clocks.
We thus ought to vastly more steadfastly move,
And with every strengthened stride amply prove
The truth that living pops but once for each man;
And we simply die if we do not live while we can.
Smiling turns occur to usher in impatient others,
And hence no round retarding backward unfurls;
Our feet still unseen episodes constantly beckon
Into new climes wherein time's shadow smothers.
We must seize our fresh hour in its shiniest hue,
While rawest pep throbs in each vein and sinew.
As a loosed bird and the broad liberties of the sky,
So have been long life’s borderless freedoms and I;
I often have kissed countless trolls’ decoying lips,
And thought their lush mouths such nectared tips.
I severally have ridden on the precarious backs
Of seamless airs and on swift-swimming sharks,
Whereon Fate and Time had gigantic glutting turn;
Soiling the white soul in which raging embers burn.
I never have seen vast humanity’s single heart,
Kind enough to lend even a distant aiding hand;
Always have larger world’s gloatingly fired eyes
Weirdly relished this one-man’s lamenting band.
Never have greenest dreams and rawest sorrows
Met so juxtaposedly on bullish life's shifting plane;
Nor guillotined goals thus defied Destiny’s gallows,
To pay with hope such low lot as only pariahs gain.
He's never alone who with his intact dreams abides,
For fortune will someday show her soft hidden sides.
What's that robed in gleaming emeralds rare,
Among the so-called dark-hued junkets plain?
So in blackest nooks glittering gems do glow,
Where prejudice would like them labelled vain?
Bravest arms that swift swords in virtue wave,
Cry for the very plunder their rawest valor gave;
Lying hands that didn't any valiant battles fight,
Claim the loot and push its owners out of sight.
Who is that warrior in harm's way yet unbent,
In peril's fierce path still going fast and stout?
See with what peerless conquest unparalleled,
The fitting patriot fags foes with fearless rout?
The country-loving martyr in clammy attires red,
Misses the full liberty into which his bravery led.
The country-hating bigot with faint fallacies bleak,
Takes all glory and dubs him an undeserving freak.
If Nature herself can't her succinct laws rewrite,
Don't tell me that Black is not as good as White!
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