Follow Your Passion: A Seamless Tumblr Journey
Poetsandwriters - Blog Posts
We’re so evolved but so primitive.
Powerful but still so broken.
A part of us is still stolen but it’s like we chosen to forget.
Masking it with hate and anger.
Our spirit is in danger.
Corrupted by different pigments or higher shades.
We are caged.
Not with bars but in our minds.
Boundaries higher than the Everest climb.
They would hate to see us at our prime so they attacked our pride.
Demoralize.
Then cast a gaze over our eyes.
And we think we’re alright cause we have fabric from different lands or material from deep within the land.
Unknown that we’re in quicksand without a branch .
Black Man
I’m black but also human.
I’m a man but I also have emotions.
Can’t show no fear but I’m freighted.
A bullet can come my way, from a cop or op that looks just like me.
Deep down, I struggle with that notion.
I want to see everyone grow.
Be the best that they can be but we fight these burdens of everyday life.
It’s layered on top of us.
Layers that prevents us from seeing our true self.
They say we’re hiding but we’re buried.
Suffocating, gasping for air but no one hears.
Or do they even care cause we’re men that are black and the odds are always stacked.


Darts
Forever playing darts with my heart.
Dicing it to pieces.
Lost in the blackness.
Acting so wouldn’t see the sadness.
You was the captain of my madness.
Taking my breath away.
Now I can’t feel nothing.
Haven’t crushed in a minute.
Can’t get the same high.
The L different but the smoke keep showing you.
Then I realize y’all one in the same.
Only here for the moment.
Super Women
You can be vulnerable, that don’t make you weak.
Wearing a cape for so long you forget about your needs.
Your soul needs to feed.
What you see on the feeds only impedes,
Take your own lead.
Dismiss the stares and whispers.
You can can cry yourself a river.
No need to hold on, that only makes you bitter.
Remember those figures that didn’t listen to your tears but expected you to wipe theirs.
You gave your all but it’s never returned.
Going on like reruns.
Using and abusing, Never no healing.
When will it be done.
You carried a ton.

Never lose sight
Black is beauty.
Dark is elegant.
Loving how the sun bounce of your melanin.
What you telling em. Radiant, nothing less than.
No degrading, only praising.
Severance for mental separation.
For the years looking for acceptance, second guessing.
You’re a blessing and you shine every second.
Relish in your skin.
You are cherished.
Never change for someone’s prejudice.
Trap Door
A cold breeze covering my chest, Sending chills down my spine.
Watching what we had fading like time easing.
Thought we were ever lasting but you’re forever changing.
Going from everything I want to nothing I need.
Should of listened to my friends, they saw it coming like a prophet.
Telling me to put my feelings in pocket.
Stay solid.
Watch who you fall for, but I can’t help who I fall for.
It’s like a trap door.
Stuck between these floors.
Can’t escape these flaws.
It’s like I’m coming home from war.
Post dramatic stress.
I don’t get a lot of rest cause when I see the sun set, I see you.
The Stars
I look to the star, they don’t shine the same.
I want be a star but the spark is not the same.
Passionate to passionless.
Losing sight of who I am.
Only seeing the scars.
Feeling what I lost.
This pain is not for sport.
catharsis burns
a sketch lined palm
it pains, it crutches
liberty, jealous harm
her virgin match
strikes the ardour
It falls, it fails
scalding, icy balm
Words by me // Catharsis
eggshells
i don’t tread on eggshells,
i treat them as such
but i don’t expect the same for my own.
there’s always that shell i’m holding back
but when i give it out, with a delicate hand and feigned lightness,
somehow it seems to return safe
i’ve always been one to beg forgiveness after,
my cowardice so endless i can’t crawl out
it’s almost easier when someone doesn’t have the right to care,
so i cant tell them anything raw and exposing
what a strange stuttered half-life existence i’ve sown
little kernels of truth kept inside me
i say that with some they can see all,
but i’m lying to everyone to an extent
they all get little eggshells to keep in their pockets
maybe if combined, the shape would emerge
maybe if combined, i’d be known.
it isn’t for naught, theres a part of me that wants it this way
even if it feels like a punishment
It is the ephemeral being that holds the eternal thing -)RB
Silence is tolerable but the real heartbreak is when their eyes too stop speaking to you. -)RB
Your reflection in the mirror,
Is the image of moon at night formed in the river.
You are the amaranthine flower,
in the heart of your every admirer.
You are that gardener ,
Who make the Soul of every human blossom like a flower.
You are the Art
And
Being your connoisseur,
Makes us grow every day even better.
-)RB
So yes I'm going to post this and regret it right away but then again i can't really control my mind half of the time. Maybe posting this would make me hapoy for 3 seconds but yeah 3 seconds is worth it! Enjoy .🐧 . . .image source- pinterest . . . . . . ... . . . . . . . . . . .. . . .#poetrycommunity #poetry #poetsandwriters #poetryhealsme #poetrylovers #poetry #poetryisnotdead #poetrybliss #poetsofinstagram #poetsofig #writersofig #writingcommunity #writersofig #writerslife #writersofinstagram #writingcommunity #writer #poemsporn #poemsbyme #writersmanor (at Why wHy whY WHY?) https://www.instagram.com/p/CSXO7XvJj4t/?utm_medium=tumblr
Hello I'm back with some more angst and greif cuz that's literally me in a few words😂😂. But then again ,I enjoyed writing this. Prompt used- my names from #overthejuneforyou by @the.cellphone.novelist . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . #poetrycommunity #poetry #poetsofinstagram #poetsandwriters #poets #poetsofig #poetsofindia #writingcommunity #writersofig #writerslife #writersofinstagram #writingcommunity #grandezacavern #fate #world #love #writers #deadpoetssociety (at Fate) https://www.instagram.com/p/CPqk7GKl8Oo/?utm_medium=tumblr
| I write fragments from my dreams | . .instagram-@ineluctable____
your parched roots are set on my wetland heart, i have fed you well after your teeth sunk into my skin and severed my arteries. there are no good endings.
grenade grudges blow up; and there are two casualties.
"The Sparrow in my Head"
There is a little sparrow in my head that likes to cause a mess.
It distracts me with its shrill screeching
that bounces against and vibrates my skull.
It flaps its tiny wings and causes a flurry in my head, like a feral hurricane.
It drills against my brain and causes pulsing migraines
and sometimes it nips at my eyeballs.
There is a little sparrow in my head
Shackled and caged behind bars of steel.
It is bruised,broken and battered
And its wings are clipped.
To set it free somebody will have to crack open my skull.
"It's not fair", cries the sparrow.
"Oh but it is fair", I reply,
"Just like, a head for a head,
a tail for a tail,
an eye for an eye,
and your freedom for mine."
The little sparrow gives a sad chirp and droops its wee head.
"Do not despair, little bird", I consol,
"One day you'll be able to fly,
high above, higher than the sky.
For just like in the circle of life,
the day your life begins,
is the day mine ends.
So chin up and wait some more,
just a little more time."
There is a little sparrow in my head that weeps tears of patience.
There is nothing else it can do.
~Me
*Inspired by Bluebird by Charles Bukowski*
“Et in Arcadia ego”
(Even in Arcadia, there am I)
I will tear my heart out; before this cathedral of flesh lets me go
The pink ribbon scars remain, delicate inscriptions of things I never dared say aloud
I have bled in silence, tried to scour regret with ritual and rainwater… but it clings, a second skin, soft as memory, heavy as guilt
My angel wings; once alabaster, now bound in velvet chains; a slow suffocation beneath borrowed holiness
They ache when the wind moves.
They remember flight.
My belly burns with the echo of choices, each one a blade turned inward, an inheritance of fire
There is no absolution here; only the architecture of longing, and the dust that gathers in the mouths of the dead.
The Fall
A.M. Watson (aka @artsymagee)
I'M BACK!
Thank you to everyone who stuck with me through my long hiatus from this account! Life happened, as it does, and my focus was taken away from writing and creating for quite a while!
I'm so excited to be back in action and actually WRITING again!!
Stay tuned for new poems, and if you're interested in my artwork you can follow @artsymagee on Instagram and Facebook!
Thank you all again, I can't wait to see what the future holds creatively! Glad to be back! (: