God and his Greatest Opposer (Poetry Block 39)

The sun shines

And the flowers bloom

The rain clouds tower

While the rest of life follows

Still, underneath all beauty

A tormentor shadows

One can’t live without the other

For there is good and bad in everything

Yet the choice to obey is sometimes harder

The tormentor knows our dreams

And preys upon our weaknesses

But God still holds out for us

Instilling us with consciousness

God creates

Giving us a high in abundances

While the tormentor destroys

Clipping our wings maliciously

Though God stays a few steps ahead

The tormentor harmfully follows

For it is always an everlasting battle

Going with God

While the tormentor prowls


 

Poet’s Thoughts:

We have the ability to choose right from wrong. We have the ability to know what good and what bad comes out of our decision making. Sometimes we question the consequences when we choose the bad, or we simply don’t believe any bad will come at all. That we might actually get away by a landslide but it doesn’t happen often, but they do happen. We defy because we are certain of the outcome when in fact we are not and so we learn the hard way of doing things as opposed to the smart way of doing things. We try to skip or cut corners and yes there are moments where that works out, but, not always. We often get steered the wrong way but God is watching and he provides us with an out if we truly see the bigger picture. And he knows we will fall but he will always remain in close proximity to help us back on our feet whereas the enemy would just let us fall and run off. The enemy might know us inside and out and know how to push our buttons, but, God too, knows us inside and out and is willing to guide us, even if it means falling first. 

 

Fever of the Mind (Poetry Block 38)

As the nights are more vicious

I can barely catch a breath

From the nightmare I’m still constantly living

Where thoughts become fallen tears

And memories a drunken curse

The razor that tastes my skin

This battle of depression seems to be getting worse

I thought I was better

But some days I don’t know

My mind is is in the state of fragile

And the anger within still flows

The chains that have me

I broke once before

And each attempt to fight

Tightens their grip ten times more

Sometimes the fight isn’t in me

And I’m sickened to even try

So I lay down in my own sickness

Fighting a fever of the mind


 

Poet’s Thoughts:

This one is another favorite of mine despite the topic at hand. It’s the way that I describe my battle with depression and where my mind is at the time of its conquering. This was written at a time where I literally had become so fatigued from the fight with myself that I just let go and let it take me over. I just fell into sleep and just cried and cried and cried. Yes, I did cut some more, I did drink, drowning myself in something. But, most importantly I broke that fever, overtime. 

 

The Starting Muse (Poetry Block 37)

I got lines rehearsing in my head

I don’t have enough time to write them on paper

So I am writing them on my hands

But you know me; I’ll rewrite them again later

The touch of ink to the skin

Awakens this dark inner child

To have words temporarily tattooed

On the outer soul of a writer

A little slightly smudged

But the idea still remains great

All originals from the head

Still fresh like new paint


 

Poet’s Thoughts:

This one was a bit humorous for me because anyone who knew me knew I was famous for writing all over my skin. I was told I would get ink poisoning for doing so but honestly I didn’t care. My concern was more running out of skin to complete my idea and then looking upon my skin at all the words scribbled on it. I’m glad I never did it when we had tests to take because I’m pretty sure the teacher would’ve thought I was cheating. If I did have long sleeves I would carefully place it over my arms and try not to press against my skin for fear it would rub off before I got a chance to actually write it on paper. By the time I got home though some of it would be smudged because when I pulled my arms through the straps of my backpack I would forget to “handle with care”, but, in  my defense the words were still readable. A lot of times I preferred my skin to paper whether I was writing an idea on my skin or drawing logos from band covers. Now, I do take the time to write all my ideas in a notebook or using the memo app on my phone, which has proved to be quite useful for me, especially when I’m dreaming. 

 

 

The Words Massacre (Poetry Block 36)

Letter of a poet

Left on the floor

No sign of forced entry

But left behind was a little something more

Pens all inked out

And papers full of words

This poet lived a full life

Leaving a story to be heard

The last of a story

Or the beginning of something new

This material is valuable

In the eyes of adults and youth

Words have their meanings

Whether speaking pain or speaking truth

 Dried tears

On crumbled pages

Words scribbled out

Reiterated

It had to make sense

It had to fit right in place

This poet was simply genius

With fitting words in such a certain way

Wherever she disappeared to

In her other state of mind

Where thinking outside the box is tradition

And making words are required to come to life


 

Poet’s Thoughts:

This one is about my legacy of writing. I’ve always had a love of writing whether I was at school or at home. I gave it my undivided attention. Even now, stories and ideas come to mind within seconds of each other or in dreams. I’m a slave to my dreams sometimes only because I get up in the middle of the night to write every crucial detail I’ve just witnessed as a dream. The more it comes to life in my head, the more excited I become to writing it. I have always believed that everyone can write, they just have to know how to touch that restricted part of their brain and be open to what just might wander in. 

 

Amazing woman, My mother (Poetry Block 35)

The bond will never die

Yet throughout the years will grow

No matter how distant

Our hearts will always remain close

She started as my mother

Then later became my best friend

Like two peas in a pod

We will be inseparable even past the end

We’ve shared in each other’s struggles, bad times and confusion

But sewed up the holes with happiness, love and faith

And as we’ve looked back all those times seem nothing

But amusing

At one point we had let things get in the way

I know there will be a time

When one day she will have to leave

And by God I pray

That she may embrace that internal peace

But for now I live in the moments I share with her

My blessing, my friend, my angel

This amazing woman known only as my mother


 

Poet’s Thoughts:

My mom and I were not always close and it took a lot of time, patience and understanding to become as close as we are now. We learned from each other and we are still learning from each other. We learned to put differences aside to grow our relationship. We’ve gone through ups and downs but we’ve overcome the odds together. The love that has bonded our relationship throughout the years has certainly been a blessing. She is my rock, my shoulder to cry one, my comforting hug when I’m down. I am proud to call myself her daughter as I am proud to have her as my mother.