A section from 'you think I'm your fan?' 'You baby daddies that don't change nappies
Who went to unity day
To get white girl wasted
instead of picking up dem babies
You think that I'm your fan?
You self medicating
Part time rapping fathers
On some full time bullshit
Your children can not eat free t shirts
They will not be
with your last name
Saddled to the grave
For your mistakes 'Do you think that I'm your fan?
Stop crying to desperate bitches
Who don't know
how many times you beat me
Attaching mud to my name in the streets
About I'm the reason you don't see your kids
Do think that I'm your fan?
You grown men who kiss girls who breast aren't fully formed yet
I spit on you as your lurk
of every family
You think I wanted it
You vacuous men who destroy women who destroy daughters who have broken souls because you don't know the difference between
Trick or treat'
This morning's soundtrack is put together by typing "spoken word" into Amazon Prime Music
The "Priest" They Called Him - William S Burroughs & Kurt Cobain
The Big Ka-Boom Pt 1 - Jello Biafra
A Rollins In The Wry - Henry Rollins
No Commercial Breaks - Scroobius Pip
A section from my piece/poem...Platonic 'How I was in Armley with a boy
how I was having a great time
How I thought we were going to be homies, just like me and Stephen
his house is fucking huge mate!
How everything was lit as fuck ((Pause))
Untill he made my spliff too strong
His kisses were soft
I started to loose my fucking head
He ripped back his affection
Like temporary label
after I refused to fuck him
He tried and tried
Untill that boy from Armley ... called me boring
How I was so sad I cried on the way home
Not for what he said fuck that
But For the girl with such high hopes to meet new friends
To meet guys she can get high with and still be safe around
How I knew when he turned the light off
That my body was at risk
How I was relieved he was skinny so he couldn't over power me
But the damage was done anyway
How I wish the taxi would crash so the guy in Armley would feel bad
For treating her like a whore
I felt sad for that girl
I was sad that he couldn't just be a fucking homie
As I'm writing this I stop and delete the message.
See I can picture Stephens face
His grandad cap shaking back and forth
((Sarcy voice)) Why did I place my body in the hands of a man I met on Facebook
Why did I go to his house after 12 am
Why did I sit in a cami too tight for my big ass breast
in your best makeup
Looking like a fucking snack
((Pause)) How in one message he saw a Fuckboy
but my obesession with men loving me without fucking me has lead me here' ...talie aka miss irie #poetry#spokenword#words#stanza#firstdraft#openmic#leeds#instagram#selfie#melanin#realtalk
Thank you Jesus✨🙌🏾. I've watch this a million times and every time I get emotional.. May this bless you!! These 2 are by far 2 of my favorite Christian poets @wordsbyezekiel @iamgenetics #thankyoujesus#spokenword#spokenwordpoetry
These winding roads
Up mountain ways
So subtly curved
And treacherously carved
Remind me of the tribulations of life
The souls ceaseless journey
Navigating the unseen, unknown path of fate
Till one reaches the summit
Ever wary of slipping down the slope
I heard somewhere that one of the hardest parts of writing is knowing when to put the pen down. I really felt that today.
I was waiting for a moment of satisfaction to come before I sent in my book to print - a moment where I knew, 100%, that there were no more changes to be made, that it was absolutely perfect. And while I was sifting the pages for a last time I found the exact opposite - my inner critic rampaging over every poem and line.
Unfortunately, in art, nobody is truly able to identify when a piece is finished but the artist - and I am only now learning how to put the brush down and enjoy my work.
Today I took a deep breath and sent the book in to be printed - I committed to it. And trusted that it is good enough.
I am proud of the work I put into it, and I am reminding myself persistently how much I have accomplished, perfect or not.
I am grateful for this opportunity and am so excited to finally hold the book in my hands. ❤️ 📖
The launch date for my book "Two Birthdays and a Common Cold" is August 19 - updates will be sent to my email list, join it at Andreapayne.net (in bio!)
A poet's hand
No more words
Shall take the stage
upon the page
He'll not increase
the wick again
Nor call upon
His sleepy pen
The ink will keep
While they each
In his den
A soft breeze
- Gregory Monroe, moon on watch
Art by: Chay Ruby
Lovely little lilts of language rolling off the lips and tongue.
Mouth melodies made with musical mastery and mostly just for fun.
Sonically soothing sounds and syllables staged like silhouettes
Shadowing something soft and subtle like swimming shadow puppets.
Bend and blow the words you chose like an origami balloon.
Fill it with spirit so the listeners can hear it grab a hold and float to the moon.
Through cellar doors to wonderlands where everything isn't what it seems.
And if you oppose your reality than conjure new ones up from your dreams.
Sugar tipped darts slung from the tongue with fast acting aphrodisiac.
To make bitter hearts swoon and exit cocoons a healed once paraplegic.
If we could use language to find the true names of things.
Titles that predate fire, earth, water and wind.
Then maybe we could sing the sound of them and find the true elements eminence.
And make them dance in subservient trance with creative faith filled eloquence.
Where should I begin?
Perhaps the bubbles that fizz under my skin?
Waves crash, screams of the past clawing out of this husk
. I've lost myself to greed, lust and every other sin. Feeling numb has become a must, so I've been told to speak. Here alone with a stranger as my anxiety peaks, every week. Feeling sorry for a story nobody gives a shit about. So yeah, it's hard for me to let any truth spill out of my mouth. I only get out of bed to put on a brave face for my brothers. I was raised to believe it's impolite to burden others. So instead I'm pulling the covers over my head in anticipation of suffocation. Four years and a certification to tell me shit I already know. So lets sit in small talk, and wait out the clock, just so I can relieve myself when I say. "That's all the time we have today, sorry Doc." -NkG #spokenword#latenightpost#creativewriting#instapoetry#poetry#igpoets#foodforthought#wordporn#veryedgy#muchangst#yeg
⚫️ Leen Awartani ⚫️I am okay. Yet again, why wouldn’t i be? It’s very unsettling, you know, constantly feeling drained and uncertain of the things and the people around you, not being able to identify the source of these troubling thoughts, losing your way in the process of finding yourself, so you just click the pause button for a while. You end up in this maze of unusual feelings and hazy vision, and you try to adapt to this lifestyle, because it seems as if it’s the only logical thing to do, and so it goes. I suppose the scariest part about this point would be not knowing how long it’s going to last, the confusion, the fogginess, you just simply don’t know.