the boy-man walks like an apology
so we never find our feet sutured to regret
and when i offer him my insides
for a friendship
he laughs and makes me giddy.
new kid, they call him.
smoker, i call him.
paulo smokes life all about this wretched place
and i know because i made sure his bed had no white left.
-S.
(Source: vicnewplanet, via theamychronicle)
the
only
reason
i
brought
the
mountains
to
their
knees
was
so
my
vowels
could
remember
they
had
power
outside
of
a definition.
-S.
do you like james blake? I think his album is brilliant, but no body I know appreciates it! :(
haha yes i’m a rather recent fan. his album’s worth appreciating.
Wrote my piece “crotchet” to this tune. Enjoy.
you look beautiful.
and whether you will keep my words or not
we all know you’re the special one
because three variations of good came out of you.
out of all your mess
out of all that electricity
out those frightful eyes racing to fix everybody but yourself.
and ain’t that the problem, gem?
shined so hard on your outside
that your beliefs turned to easy threads
and your core was in want.
a walking semibreve.
i heard your suicide before you did
and cried at it to leave you alone. cried. cried. cried.
you couldn’t fix a broken home- of course you couldn’t.
you were a child
fumbling and fiddling with a sparse equilibrium
working odd hours to create a plan b
then c
then d
then nothing.
fumbled and fiddled and fevered
to create a safety net for your burning ideal
and almost killed yourself from the labour.
damn it, gem. what were you thinking?
body lean from weaving love out of hunger all these years
to make beauty out of anything.
today, you look so beautiful
but your soul never lies to me
it reminds me that a masterpiece
will always hurt you as much as you surrender to it.
-S.
you write beautifully
Thank you for reading.
you are the one that got away so of course
the truth bites your behind.
the damn dog still follows your grace,
determined to make a mistake of it.
but aie whenever i see you i remember you are
never out of blessings
and that your taunting mouth
is merely in love with your fury.
all the voices know it. they know the rhythm
of a woman who will dance to stay alive
so her body does not forget it belongs to her.
they know a volcano when they see one.
they know heart break when it’s quietest.
.
so you hand out your good mornings
while it is still black in your head
and your bed banks your tears for you.
thank God there is never enough river you whisper,
and wash your sheets in salt.
and lie naked with the sun forbidden from speaking.
and a pillow between your legs.
.
sister, it’s cold.
but you are the one that got away so of course
the truth bites your behind.
-S.
war finds you when your spears aren’t sharpened. so when i say to you “sister, look” i want you to stop searching your pockets for a judgement I did not give you. i want you to face me and love yourself. i want you to tell bravery that it has had its place and it was glorious but this moment is one in which to be broken. and perhaps the present is a present because it’s ours to pray a little healing on. so yes, we were once foolish, flirting like we were innocent but holding man’s desires in our throats, always prepared for song. and my God did we sing. sang until we had no childhood left. half-near scared mama’s good seeds to death until virtue lost herself. but we were and still are fine things, honey. mighty fine. china pieces of heartbreak on a bedroom floor and creaking walls. chanting that we still hadn’t lost ourselves to a lifestyle. never lost ourselves. never lost ourselves. but we could swear each experience drained some more blood. ruthless and bloodless and cold as the breeze that found our inner hollow. aie so my sister, you know what i do in these moments i’ve got left? i cling to faith in a God that loved me before I could love myself. i break bread with my past and thank it for the memories. but i squeeze every last bit of forgiveness i can and leave it in a safe jar where i can find it. someday, you’ll find your way back home too. you will clean your mirrors and you’ll find the things you have lost.
-S.
This is the best thing I’ve heard all week. And i’ve been listening to some pretty amazing music. Just turn up your volume, expect nothing and feel.
Thank you, Soweto Gospel Choir.
Click the title to be taken to the article.
S/O to my sister for pointing me towards this track. This is brilliant.
Tasha Cobbs - Break Every Chain
we couldn’t stop
kissing each other like we were owed lip service
so,
forgetting the tombs racing to name us
we left a bloody mess
only a saviour could clean up.
-S.
it was a Saturday morning when sarah discovered she could harness the wind.
the sky was sunny side up, sleepy blue and mischievous,
an androgeny.
abraham, she said, something miraculous just happened
and he looked over his crescent frames with a quizzical aura. said
sarah, darling. everyday is a miracle.
no abraham, don’t be daft.
she fiddled with the oven and spun back around with a sigh.
i mean a miracle of another sort. i’m with child.
at once he leapt up, pancakes flying everywhere
coffee spilling
newspaper forgotten.
we’re pregnant!?
yo. we’re calling ma dude isaac.
-S.
Reaching for gravity in your words
and finding i am the soul that will never dock, never sink
the ocean is my overwhelming friend
keeping my feminine afloat with her mourn and ebb
with graveyards fighting for space beneath her like children
and dead ghosts chorusing asphyxia
at an unchartered swimmer who didn’t ask for love,
only sense.
-S.
