Poetry, Uncategorized

In Between

The tears felt as though they’d never stop

The damage felt as though it had no end

I longed for salvation

I didn’t find it anywhere

Thoughts never helped me

Cathedrals never saved me

But time went on

I confided in people

I learned how to live

Tears would still come, but they never overflowed

Damage was still felt, but it always stopped short

I don’t pretend to be saved

I don’t pretend to be broken

I am who I am

Something I can’t describe

Expressed through art

There to see, but always a mystery

 

 

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Poetry

Words

Life is a battle of words

You gain them then lose them

Many times, abuse them

Store them for times of demand

When intelligence is questioned

Remarks—delivered with caution

Reality—woefully accepted

Damaging words can restrain the heart

Replayed and recited until they are lost

New memories enter in and take their place

One learns to filter what enters the minds gate

They stay indoors, disturb the conscience

Speaking out only when they must

A day without words: A confused civilization

Only in silence would people think clearly

To see who they are aside from their identity

No voice, no debate, no chaos

Just silence and in that silence, peace.

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Poetry

She cannot bear the weight of her skull: A fragility cast in shame

With a name derived from a place she knows nothing of

Ambiguous in nature; ambiguous in tongue

Fear has made her its friend: a companion who assures to know the way

It guides her in the right direction as she listens to it say:

You must devise solutions and carry out plans

Dare to speak out as sorrow pulls your hand

People give her clues and seekers bring her news

She doesn’t mind distress as these bring lessons too

When she sees the musicians performing on the street

So exposed and courageous, she does not want to leave

The music excites her and teaches her to be free

But she is still afraid to live what she believes

Moving on to lovers, she adores what it is she sees

A man awaiting a woman he has yet to meet

They never spoke, but he knew she was special

Her beauty: elegant

Her style: phenomenal

Everything about her was painted in poetry

Her movement never failed to convince him she was free

Outside I see the sun has gone down and the sky has grown dark

I choose to walk home so I can rise for an early start

With a heavy mind and mystical heart

I chant the words: I am 

I am strong at heart

And I will

I will go on.

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Poetry

With abandon,

Flinging the body over, down—I felt free.

My body kissed the ground

Clinging, I made an infant of myself

This, was my home.

Could it be my fault that I had mistaken this for love?

Now that I remember, it was rather cold and rough

Faces and places intruded

Maybe this was not the right way

No ladder in sight; no stairs

Maybe in heaven

If I end up there.

 

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Poetry

Escape

 

Bathing free in the moon-night-wind

Absorbing all I can to find what lives within

Poet in disguise: coloring life with mystic vibes

Shading what I can to make me feel I am

Hearing truth in words of the intellect adorned with spirit

Unrehearsed and fragile, an infantile wizard

Using emotions as potion and dreams as schemes

Mischief in the making, deviant being

Calculating certainty–logical pursuits

Magic in the making–qualitative truths

12:00 a.m. awakening, what am I to do?

Tortured by the fear of what I have to lose

Exam around the corner–this isn’t who I am

Was I made to sing? I know the answer is yes.

Would I rather die? It would put my soul to rest.

Doing what I must to survive this societal melting pot

Deserting who I am: a singer who wishes to make music

Renamed as Rae Wez.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Poetry

Poetic Observatory

Dilated pupils, we don’t forget

Sights of horror, dialogues of conflict

Adults lost in madness, tied to a past

Fictitious story, possessed by identity

One who is always seeking; nothing is secure

Tunneling down insanity, there some find the cure

She painted murals in times of war

Escaping into the art she bore

Pictures all around–in homes and jobs

Looking for beauty in what we are not

Communities rising, ideas and visions

Young people aligning with utopian ideals

Take care is the new common phrase

A reflection of our times–no one is safe

Depression reclining, as if it is here to stay

Climate collapsing and so are the states

Women exposing their ass(ets) more than their brain

Your beauty is in your knowing–not in what you can shake

Dividing the country, a man cloaked in red

We loved him in the past, but now the past is dead

Entertaining the masses of blood-filled lips

Cloaked in colors of the sky-moon-wind,

The revolutionaries stand.

~R.W.

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