Tag Archives: Poem

My lost valedictorian speech

This year I had to tell a lot of people,
Please do not mistake my smile for niceness.
Sometimes, I am offensive purposefully, but always respectfully.
You see at one point in my life I forgot my name and I lost my human form .
I had transformed into an empty, reused pill bottle- shuffled from different pockets to night stands-there I stood on display-
burdened with layers upon layers of handwritten labels glued to my skin-
like the stickers that I studied on the walls of after-hours hole in the wall bathroom stalls- while trying to regain my balance from deliberate intoxication –
I digress-
My labels read-
“angry, emotional, ashamed, lost, vulnerable, victim, lonely, broken.”
I was a walking billboard.
And if you took the time to look close-
My small print read “do not leave out in direct sunlight – if exposed too long to peoples bullshit- may exhibit moments of irrational thinking and her verbal outbursts may cause permanent brain damage to others”.
So beware, my words are weapons that I wield well.
I suffered from untreated mental lordosis, hell bent on trying to navigate the uneven, concrete sidewalks of my life with my head in the clouds-
I was destined for damage because I tripped and fell a lot.
I’m warning you.
I am not nice.
I haven’t been nice since I was in utero, cushioned from this cold world by amniotic fluid which thankfully blurred my vision at birth-
Because my recycled soul was gifted to a baby born in a Brooklyn gutter –
Never swaddled by a loving mother.
Nature nurtured me.
I had to learn how to walk by holding on to the devil’s pinky finger-
So you can imagine my trust issues.
And my godmother was fate.
She lovingly nicknamed me little 80/20 because she knew the odds were not supposed to be in my favor.
Please forgive my bluntness.
You see where I’m from, being nice made you a bleeding target for famished wolves and fresh meat for the butcher- blocks of predators forced me to learn to be a hunter because I was tired of being preyed upon.
And praying only took the edge off and helped a little.
What a rat race that I ran well.
My faith was displaced into extracurricular activities which awarded me medals for first place in the category of heartache.
My headaches were endless.
I suffered from severe congestion-leading to perpetual mental infections- as I was desperately trying to heal the spiritual abscesses left from untreated metaphysical trauma- that caused wounds to fester until I almost became a victim of self inflicted sepsis.
It’s a miracle I survived.
A wise man once told me to always pronounce your s’s and your t’s.
and that is some Shit that I try to live by daily.
Enunciate, enunciate ,enunciate.
Paint pictures with your words.
This world is a canvas that needs our graffiti desperately.
Illicit art that helps elicit the emotions of the soul.
I wanted to share a great recipe that everyone should try for the new year.
All you need is two middle fingers and then you blend them in with a lot of fuck being nice spice.

I humbly accept this award.

Thank you.

Long Time No See

The ink in my pen ran out a long time ago. 

Now I transcribe each noun, adjective and verb with my own blood.

The paper soaks up my pain and transforms it into riddles of similes and metaphors-

A confusion of emotions. 

Confusion is what creates chaos, and you need chaos to invoke a revolution- and revolution is the never ending fight for the survival of our identity. 

Sometimes I am afraid to write, because when my creative ports open,  the unstoppable flood gates spills truths that drown others and I become an accessory to murder. 

Turbulent waves- rip tides of secrets and painful memories seep into the fibers of lined paper and feed hidden seeds that sprout the language of the soul- a poem.

I stopped writing for a long time because when I do- I can feel my poorly healed scars start to dehisce and the pain taunts me as it bangs against the bars of my caged heart and the fallen angel that lives within me starts screaming to speak. 

Mute. 

Mute. 

Mute. 

You can only press the button but so many times before it breaks and your only choice is to listen and turn the volume up. 

What is your soul saying? 

I used to wear my heart on my sleeve but it kept getting impaled by flying debris from the tornados of fate-

But still I moved forward-

And when the barbed wire from the fences of life kept nicking my skin-

I still fought to progress-

and I had to jump so damn high to surmount the hurdles of trials and tribulations, hurdles which at times bruised my shins- over and over again 

-but I still staggered on. 

Wading through various cesspools of shitty circumstances, trying to stop and smell the roses proved to be challenging- yet still possible.

People just don’t understand that when home becomes hell the streets become heaven. 

I’m sure that I’ve shared a drink and ate dinner with the devil many times.

I gambled it all away to the point where the only thing I had left was half a mustard seed in my back left pocket.     

And in a swamp of decay- I was able to use it to grow faith.

And from that small patch of faith I was able to replant hope. 

I had to stand tall and blow away the clouds of shame that hung over me in order to let the sun break through. 

And man did my forest bloom.

My brain sprouted vines and carried me back to civilization where I continue to strive. 

I allowed my face to be smothered with a pillow held by childhood trauma for way too long. 

And you know what- it feels good to hear my voice again.

It feels good to be back.

Hello, It’s been a while.

The Truth About the Road Less Traveled

Darkness is my light.
Moonlight brightens my unpaved path.
It guides me gently.
Tenderly.
It whispers for me to walk slowly.
Take it all in.
Nothing is more peaceful than walks under a starlit sky down the road that isn’t traveled.
A road forgotten.
A road hidden.
A road that awakens under the spell of the silent alarm of the sunset –
and sleeps on the command of the sunrise.
This road leads me closer to finding me.
I have said it before.
I walk alone, my footsteps are my own.
As the rest of the world slumbers, my dark forest blooms.
Precious, mystical night flowers.
The fragrance of sweet memories fills the air from their open petals.
The aroma reaches its arms out and as I inhale it reaches down, deep down and hugs my soul-
It warms my heart, over and over again.
At times it leaves me breathless and I have to remember how to breathe- this dark forest is dangerously captivating.
It is necessary.
Everyone needs this vital terrain.
A place where your imagination swirls around you like fireflies in the summer night.
A place where you can tell your secrets to the stars and they hide them for you in the universe.
A place where tears grow forests of weeping willows with hanging vines of glowing emeralds.
Bittersweet beauty that reminds you that the seeds of pain can still grow something worth admiring.
A place where it rains diamond dust and the sounds of thunder are made by the souls of those we lost- in the years past- playing harps and violins to soothe you.
These roads dissect through endless fields of onyx-velvet black roses which are soft like satin, yet have thorns made of razor-sharp gold.
I slowly run the palm of my hand over them and each petal caresses my fingers.
Temptation.
Temptation.
Temptation.
Under the veil of the darkness, I see things so much more clearly.
I have so much to discover here, so I must continue my journey and you must continue yours.
If our paths cross, we can sit at the edge of the waterfall and count the rainbows scattered across the night sky and share our stories under the moonlight.