Tag: poem
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Poem 5.23.23: My Last Day, Would Be in Bed-Stuy
My last day Alive was in Bed-Stuy. I felt like an “I” back in Bed-Stuy.Bro, the birds really flyout in Bed-stuy. I ain’t gone lie. I thought “I I could die” here in Bed-Stuy. I thought I was cry,leaving Bed-Stuy.
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Poem 7.11.22 people are
going to teach you repression. then you be repressingas practice.places are made to reach you, bring you inthen you act repressed to stay. things are news,a maze of trues,then lead you to repress today.
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Poem 7.11.22 – The vinegar in my blood
is mild, Unbelievable, Unrelenting,Incisively,thinlyveiled. momentum ismy acid,barely sours;it elevates, &colors palettes. still a pop leaves cause,a sting gives motive &Isoberly am erased. notes of assimilated,softened,perceptive,raw. lacks body, needs time,works well too,articulates well. best kept in darkcold storage.
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Poem 5.18.22
I’m transforming again- this time I’m breathing through it. Breathing in. Breathing out. Praying out. Going in. I prayed to be broken, to keep my heart open. We’ll rub the scars with lotion;keep the soul, anchored mind, leave body go. Got lost in;Found my breathin us-ratea (اسرتي),Papa& um-me (امي). From kennels if remorse,water, son of…
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Poem 3.31.22 – late grief
I ain’t tryin na,SwitchBut i always thought You’d have more of a Hitch Before hittin the Ditch
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Poem 3.21.22 – Early Grave
I really miss you, probably never visit your grave site. doesn’t really make much sense. Being herenot being here doesn’t really make much sense.going there with…there—- —all of it, there. it just make it, less. and making a mess of myself there,feelslike it just make it, less. I can still talk to you. we haven’t…
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Poem 3.15.22 – The Business Practices of an Entrepreneur after Experiencing Police Violence & generational Terror
A long time ago I was made to hate myself. Before then I was unmade, in a matter of words/hours/actions. Prior to then, I was criminally incomplete, but I was unbroken. Not all at once, but later eventually,once I hated myself— hated my voice, my teeth, my face, and tears— those I despised. hated my…
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Poem 3.15.22 – Ally, You?
We are not our ancestors& nor are you?Where the fuck see the allies?!?Like can we get a head count? I meant of the pre-destined noose-less necks!I’m-so fatigued with caring white,I’m done with not movin/being force to move. I’m sick&I’m I’ll. I’m healed&I’m powerful, still. I’m winning &I’m unbothered, you? You any waitfor the badto be…