My Colors in Baltimore

Like a stone cast

Across a river in cascading

Blues and yellows, I shine

And reflect the eloquence

Of the world around me.

With each skip, pop, and skate

My eyes radiate in your tender

Turquoise and reflect your gentle

Trees that furrow under my feet.

In faded greens that are the veins

Carrying my heartbeat, my fingers

Intertwine and lashes dance.

The fluidity of blonde and peach

In an array of sunbeams.

A simplistic dream

As a girl in the city sleeps.

 

There is no solace

Found under the night

Sun of streetlamps.

The abundance of metal

And concrete is not

The result of human nature,

But is the nature

Of a species that

Can never stop, think.

The air that moves does not

Flow like the river in their bodies.

The madness of their minds

Only reflects on their walk home,

Through blood ridden alleys, drug

Induced slumbers, slouching slanted

Sinister sidewalks, dressed like

Your last midnight battle.

 

She is the one who daydreams

Deep into the night, carrying

Her life in a backpack, holding herself

Together with duct tape and iron

On patches. Cracked skin, re-stitched

Seams, and abandoned apartments.

Summer in her eyes, autumn in her hair,

Spring in her smile, winter on her breath.

A momentous serenade of a mosaic life

When all the broken pieces come together

Beautifully.

The Crow Girl and Darkened Dreams

The crow girl sits on the balcony

And coos her voice in a rattling song.

Her feathers lay low, her neck hunched,

And her being the midnight’s songbird.

 

Twisted wings like twigs laying along the railing,

Killing the night-walkers in an enemy’s

Voyage into the deep sanctuary that is her home.

 

Tethered strings; there is nothing more beautiful

As they lay along the metal guard

And loosely lean with the wind.

 

Deep blue and dainty shreds of a fine lady’s dress

That’s seams have fallen and followed behind her.

A new ghostly member of the nighttime parade.

 

A darkness hangs over the city

But nothing darker than the exasperated

Flame in the grow girl’s eyes. Don’t blink.

Forget her mark and carry yourself towards day.

 

Nothing will be new tomorrow, everything is laid

Before you today. Grasp your own midnight

And let it sing. It will thank you and your

True side will finally be free.

City Street’s Symphony

Listen:

If I wanted to be called

Beautiful from your roaring,

Pouring mouth I would have

Carried a canoe and a paddle

As I walked along the street.

The words forming between

Your cracked, bristle hovering lips

Are not enticing to me.

I do not swim in your

Lake of lackluster;

Conversations begin with hello

Not “What’s up, sexy”.

Don’t look at me with

That smirk and those twisted

Eyes, this slab of meat is

Too rare and ready to poison.

Fuck your crossed lines

That bring you to graze your fingers

Along my jean back-pockets.

I do not desire the touch of a stranger,

Neither on the street or in the bar.

Your willingness to invade me

Is revolting. Respect is a jagged line

That you tiptoe over without hesitation.

I, for one, wish that line

To be repaired and thickened

So people like you can clearly see

The trails of their mistakes.

Forgive and Forget Yourself

Forgiveness: the kidnapped

Killjoy that no one wants to release.

Feel it between your fingers

As you soften your grip

And let it breathe.

Slow and uneven inhales.

Apologies: the acid drip

Drip dripping stinging

Sizzling against the papier

Mache that is your skin.

But the poor kids are quick

To offer their inner captive.

Their rations are never full

But forever handed to

The folks in golden bowties

And empty minds.

Acceptance: the shade of purple

In the sky after a devastating storm.

The refreshment of the soul

That pours during a summer rain.

Soak in its fluidity and flourish

In its nourishment. The ground

Will forever be below your feet

And the birds will cover the sky.

Just listen to the wind

And turn your face to the right direction

Before settling into your new born path.

Dizzy is an Emotion

Goodness, how long its been since I’ve last posted on here. As a way to kind of resurrect this blog I will post a poem below that I wrote for my poetry class last semester. This assignment entailed using a chosen word 26 times throughout the poem in varying ways as to sound lyrical instead of redundant. I’ve since edited this poem to where it sounds a tad more fluid despite the urgency the poem possesses, however, you will certainly be able to pick out the word I chose to repeat.
This poetry class through which this poem was brought to life, was one that I consider as a turning point for my writing. If you have read any of my previous work that I posted on this blog, you might agree that they were either bland or extremely similar and typical. My professor whom I absolutely love, gave me some great advice: poetry does not need to be beautiful, have a message, or leave a satisfying taste in your mouth. Sometimes ugly poetry is what we best relate to. Poetry that steps out of bounds and uses words in ways that leaves you confused, but in that confusion somehow we find understanding.

Without further ado, my crazy, cooky poem:

Dizzy is an Emotion

What’s in a mind?
An old cassette wheel
Winding and rewinding
The faults and tragedies
Of our past?
A cloud hovering in white
Space as static
Churns and binds
Scratching for
Release?

This mind is a game of
Sudoku I can never win.
It’s a child holding
A bottle of pop
He has shaken.
With a desire to ease
His thirst, he only
Holds the bottle and refrains
From twisting the cap
With his chubby fingers
Slick with fry grease.

It’s a blue sky kind of mind.
A black bird in a world of doves
As the trees echo through their branches:
“Blackbird, fly.”
But fly this mind does not.
It’s a wooden rocking chair
Bolted to the ground
From which an old woman
In tattered clothes sits.

This mind is a stale reject.
A rose dress screaming
At a wall because it’s yellow.
This mind destroys life
And creates nonsense.
Like waves, but never the ocean.
Like a clear mind your fingers
Have smudged.

Three guys and a girl
Walk into a bar.
How fuzzy is your mind?
Drugs and laughter
Expand the mind
But alcohol and gossip
Restrict its flow
Because this is a
Dripping stream
Next to a river
Kind of mind.
Which does this mind prefer?

They see the outer shell
Of this mind.
A pale orange,
Light blue,
Peachy, thunderstorm
And earthquake
Kind of mind.
With pages and pages
Torn, rewritten, erased,
Scribbled out, burned,
And sent through a shredder
But only to still remain
On the shelf you’ve last
Set them. Next
To the vase and window.

It’s a cut and dripping blood
Kind of mind. Blonde curls
On the floor next to an idea
Mind, but only a voiceless exhale.
Mind over reality.
Does it have a mind?
A bisexual, torn skin,
Screaming lungs,
Laughing eyes,
Twirling dress,
One day at a time
Kind of mind?

What’s in a mind?
Nonsense and disorder,
For this mind. A paint
Your reality and fuck the tradition
Kind of mind. A mind of sun-
Flowers and summer rain.
A quilted bed of snow mind.
A hushed midnight sigh mind.
A mind at ease.

My Equality Anthem

 

He, she, they, them,

We, were, walking

Between the beginning and end;

The many pieces of myself

Following the sound of the misshapen

Drum the world beats.

Thump and pound

Until our lives are obstructed

And bruises leave scars;

Cotton candy skin deeper

Than the bags under your eyes.

Lead me to the town

Where looks don’t matter and dialect

Is a feeling of understanding

Between the badum of the drum

And hum of our voices.

Vibrate through your throat

And release all desires

Because today we walk

Along a road of gunfire.

My hair is too loud to hear you.

We don’t sing the tunes that you do.

We tisk and wop as our bare feet step

Following the path in our naked bodies

While you hold assault rifles.

Guns, shoot, us, down

Within my spirit I am

The color of marigolds and lemon meringue.

A sensation so sweet your mind will water.

Drown in the river of peace

And walk among the sky’s changing colors.

I am them. They are we. He and she.

An anthem of nothing

And everything that matters.

For My Future Daughter

My Future Daughter,

I wanted to write this to you, as a college student preparing for the “real world,” because I’ve recently realized, and appreciated, my own growth from a teen to a young adult. This may seem odd or cliché; however, the struggles of growing up is something every child will go through, and I know, as your mother you may not believe me, but yes, I was young once.

Growing up you will run into obstacles that you will feel no one will understand, and that may be true, but please know, although you call me Mom, I care and love you, and will always be open to hear what you have to say. Teen years are tough, trust me I know. Bullies, endless school work, ever changing emotions, a lack of personal knowledge, and the swift changes in friendships, will make you feel lost, but I will always be someone standing right next to you through it all, with an open heart and an open mind. 

Relationships change and so do personalities. Someone you trust may redirect their path somewhere that seems brighter, you may as well, but don’t lose sight of who you are and where you wish to end up. Your dreams are more important than what’s popular or “cool,” you hold more power and strength than you think, so never give in. All the tears you will cry at night from a comment some classmate made about your style, voice, hair (sorry, it will probably be frizzy), size, or any other nitpicky aspect teens like to tear apart about each other, may tear you down, but you will forever be beautiful and full of talent and worth, remember that. 

Just like trees grow and become stronger, so will you. Your roots will become grounded, head looking beyond the tragedies below, and armor, strong and through experience. Let the sun glow upon your face with your feet brushing against the cool ground, keeping you connected with the earth and what is important in life.

I promise to keep you safe and constantly loved, even when you don’t notice it. Through the struggles of growing up, I will rise you higher. From changes of emotions and growth, I will keep you grounded. 

Keep these words in your mind as you begin to move forward in your beautiful life. Find happiness in all that’s around you, peace among the madness, and joy in everyday experiences. This life is made for you, take it by the wings and fly.

Sincerely,

Your Mother

Businesses Tickled Pink

Hello everyone,

I came across a very interesting website today, ThinkBeforeYouPink.org, that really opened my eyes to the degrading, ineffective, and just plain horrendous ways businesses are using the pink ribbon as a marketing ploy, instead of using it to help fipinkcrapnd a cure for breast cancer.

When it is October the world is painted pink as promotions for the Breast Cancer Awareness Month begin to push forward. Companies, ranging from Kohl’s to Hooters, are getting in on the campaign and have created products to fit in with this theme; however, many of these companies are taking advantage of customers and their concerns for this disease by making money and keeping most, if not all, the proceeds made during this month when selling their pink products.

As people who have concerns with health, and many of us have faced, fought, or know someone who has been taken by this disease, we want to help find a cure. The sad truth is that many of us are unaware regarding the truth of the pink ribbon, and do not realize the ways businesses are abusing this symbol in order to better their company.

Products ranging from water bottles (which some of the plastic used actually have been linked to causing breast cancer), laundry detergent, sodas, along with tv networks, and restaurants, all have been using the pink ribbon as part of their campaign during the month of October. We, as consumers, see this ribbon and believe that these companies are generous people who care about finding a cure, and many of them are; however, not all. As the ribbon is shown, we feel more inclined to buy their product, thus raising the sales of these businesses. As consumers, we need to be aware of the differences of businesses supporting the breast cancer campaign, and businesses actually working with the campaign to find a cure. The logo may be shown on a wide range of products, but only a few may actually be giving a good amount of their proceeds towards the cure.

Beyond the selfishness of many companies, there is another issue that I have come across, degrading language towardsavesecondbase-300x176s women being placed on tee shirts as well as many other materials. All of us have probably heard the phrase “Save the Ta Tas” or “Save Second Base,” yet, there is so much more to women that deserve to be saved besides their breasts. Women deserve to be saved because they are human and worthy of such, not because boobs are appealing, or because our society define what a woman is by her chest. These degrading remarks do not help the cause, and instead, limit the abilities of women.

Breast cancer is a subject that should be spoken about with respect and understanding. October should not be the only month where we are focused on finding a cure for this disease, and as turns out, it is more of a month where business rack in more cash for themselves. As consumers, we need to be aware of where our money is going and which companies we can trust. Has anyone ever seen a breast cancer tee shirt with a man shown on the front instead of a w
oman? Probably not; however, this disease can affect men as well – yet their not getting any attention.AlexisLivingstonPhotography-MensBreastCancer1

If you all want to look more into this topic, I have listed a few websites that are very informative and can help shed a light on the reality of what Breast Cancer Awareness has really become.

http://everydayfeminism.com/2014/11/breast-cancer-campaigns/

http://www.breastcancer.org/symptoms/types/male_bc

http://thinkbeforeyoupink.org/blog/