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Midnight Mutterings

Loose strings.

Broken wings.

Frayed beings,

afraid of being.

And I’ve been thinking

of all these things.

Must be thin skin.

Insecurities built in.

Always have been,

and all they bring

is constant sinking

into a big bin.

Played out violin.

Wait something’s missing.

Weight of fears and sin.

The tears begin.

So it appears,

crystal clear

that we’re all here

and life’s unfair,

but we don’t care.

Do we?

Sue me,

For thoughts unholy.

Just trying to show the

picture wholly.

 

Don’t try to hold me

back.

All this baggage to unpack.

Scrap that.

Just tough chat.

Backtrack,

rewind,

til we find

peace of mind.

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Royal Flush

Before I posted this poem, I sent it to a few of my friends and they all thought I was throwing shade at someone. I laughed and told them that was not the case. I’m still not sure they believe me. However I now feel compelled to share with you the honest origin of this poem.

I was scrolling through Instagram and found a user by the name of “Let me fix my crown”. I thought it was a brilliant name and as I was walking to class the first few lines of the poem wrote themselves. I took on the persona of an angry woman tired of degrading pick up lines, played with rhymes and had a little too much fun. This is the end result. Enjoy !


 

Excuse me?
Let me fix my crown real quick.
Mr. Suave, Mr. Slick, Mr. Boombastic.
With Jokers in abundance,
you can take your pick.
Go fetch!
Never mind, you can keep that stick.
‘Cause you must be a dog,
or a frog or a hog,
to be talking to me with that dialogue.
Hold on!
What is the matter with you?
Biting off more than you could possibly chew.
Sweetheart, just how old are you?
Because you must be under the age of two.
Before I get too upset
and say something that I’ll regret
I have an important lesson for you
my pet.
I think it’s time you learned
that respect is earned
because you’re playing with fire
and you will get burned!

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Ouch

Who are you to make me feel this way?
So caught up on all of the things that you say.
With your sweet lies
Deceitful eyes
Playing the fool to catch the wise.
But are you playing?
I’m just saying, because you must be pretty dumb,
To just come,
And mess up everything I had right.
maybe it’s me?
As far as I can see
I didn’t put up enough boundaries.
Didn’t fight with all my might.
How could I?
I didn’t stand a chance
What do you want from me?
Can you be trusted?
My brain and heart are conflicted.
If the heart listened to the brain
There would be love without pain
And if the heart had its way
It would have lots to say,
on all of the reasons not to let you stray.

 

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The Story of the Puss Roll

Today I’ll be returning to my Yaad (Jamaica). I love being in airports but this wasn’t always the case. I felt it was only fitting that I shared the traumatic story of my first time being at the airport. I wrote the story a year ago for my public speaking class. Enjoy!


Crisp white socks; folded neatly at the ankles. Shiny black shoes. A denim dress that flared at the waist with a rounded lapel. My mother completed the look by putting my hair in four evenly parted braids. There wasn’t a crease in sight or a hair out of place. I was ready. I was 1½ years and I was ready for my first trip by airplane.

While my mother and father juggled two suitcases and my diaper bag, my lone responsibility was to guard my stuffed kitten. This was no ordinary kitten. Pink fur, a white under belly and a long white string, courtesy of my grandmother, for a leash. After a 30 minute journey, we arrived at the airport. Mommy kissed daddy goodbye. He then kissed me on both cheeks and gently clunked our foreheads together so I wouldn’t feel left out. It was just mommy, me and my kitty now.

Despite what my mother would say, I was a well behaved baby. I walked beside her in silence taking in the hustle and bustle of the airport. This was probably my first introduction to the concept of “waiting in line”. That’s the thing with airports; lots of opportunities to wait in line. We had to queue to check in our luggage, then we had to queue for the security check.

We waited and waited until it was finally our turn. Mommy lifted her carry on and my diaper bag onto the conveyer belt. While mommy balanced monitoring her bags and conversing with security, some woman snatched my kitty. My jaw dropped as I tried to process what happened. I looked to my mother, waiting for her to defend me but she was busy with the bags. I had to take matters into my own hands.

In one swift motion, I dropped to the ground with a splat. I simultaneously kicked my feet, exposing Huggies underneath so they knew I meant business. I kicked and rolled to the right and I kicked and rolled to the left. They still hadn’t returned my kitty. I added a new move to my tantrum combo. I hollered. I had a pair of lungs and I knew how to use them. The entire airport waited with baited breath for my stuffed animal to be returned.

The conveyer belt had swallowed my kitten and was taking its own sweet time with the digestion process. I was kicking and rolling and screaming at the top of my lungs. My mother was frozen in shock and appreciative of the sympathetic looks she was receiving. The poor attendants ran from my mother to myself then the conveyer belt, unsure of what to do next.

The scanner finally spat out my kitty and the security personnel passed it around like a game of hot potato to get it back to me as quickly as possible. The same woman who had taken my toy returned it and apologized profusely. I stopped my tantrum mid-roll, got up and took it from her. Wearing one shoe, I hopped passed my mother. She scrambled to retrieve my other shoe and any other article of clothing I might have dislodged in my fit.I didn’t know where I was going but I knew it was away from catnappers, stuffed toy eating machines and baffled onlookers. My mother chased behind me and swiftly pulled the back of my dress down to cover my diaper.

Despite what my mother would say, I was a well behaved baby… unless provoked.

#KultureShocked

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Shot by Love

How do you love?
I asked the universe.
She replied “from a distance
With a shield
To protect you from the
Bullets of the battlefield.”

And what if that fails?
“Then be prepared to be hit
Straight through the heart
By a poisonous dart”

Does it hurt?
“Well some darts are fake
And can take a while
To differentiate.
While some are real and
It’s a pity that both
Venoms feel the same”

How will I know?

Inspired by Shot by Love by Protoje