Audible Passions

If my passions could speak, what on earth would they say?

Would they speak of how they lay untouched, festering with decay?
Would they speak of how they are ignored, and never see the light of day?

Would they speak of how they spend more time in my dreams,
And are hardly ever brought out to play?
Would they speak of how they long to relocate, into reality?
Would they speak as if their existence would never come to be, with a tone of finality?

Would they speak as those who are but shape shifters,
Never quite settling into one form before being moulded into another?
Would they speak of the influence my life has on them, when one is seemingly traded for another?

Would they sing the song of unsung heroes,
Of ones yet to realize their purpose?
Or would they grumble at their lack of realization,
Secretly thinking I do it on purpose?

Why is she so torn, they must wonder.
When will she get it together, surely they ponder.
Does she really think she can achieve us all, they ask.
What gives her the gall to believe she can accomplish such a task?

Some of us are in direction opposition of each other,
Why on earth does she even bother?
How can she want to be a this, and in the same breath a that,
How can she long to write of this and then speak of that?

How does she reckon one as short as her can aim so high?
On what authority does she hope to touch the sky?

Do they question how long I plan to leave them dormant,
For how long they must remain fallow?
Do they know I pray for them everyday,
And my plans for them are far from shallow.

Do they know I’m breaking the lock on my hope chest,
And will soon let them all fly out?
Do they realize I’m laying the ground work,
So they’ll be nourished and never die out?

Do they know I love them so,
And that is why I await the right time,
Do they know I’ve realized I must let them go,
In order for them to truly be mine.

So with courage I’m still yet to find,
I take the steps pre-ordained by the Divine,
The time is nigh, for my hopes to arise,
And for my passions to take their place in the skies.
I cannot yet tell you if they will survive,
But heaven knows, yes heaven knows, I shall try.


The War Against Apathy!

The war against apathy cannot be waged in silence
The war against apathy must be waged with violence!
The most violent of emotions allowed to surface
They must rise and consume with no intro or preface

Apathy is a cancer
That eats away at your dreams
Multiplying your fears
Until they are greater than your means

And fear that you will not conquer them
Gives apathy the cue to take the screen.
And then apathy plays the role
That once belonged to your goal

And apathy takes over the character
That once had so much character
And now the sound of silence
Fills the void that was once laughter

An overwhelming suspicion that you will never succeed
Makes you stiff in the joints, and weak in the knees
It makes you suppress your goals and stifle your dreams
It makes you pretend you care not for the ends nor the means

Yet the truth is that paralysis is fear
And that shrug is a façade behind which you disappear
For you are scared to try and fail and lose what you hold dear
So you raise and lower your shoulders and pretend that you don’t care.

But if you do not try my dear
You have already lost it
What could have been molts away
Shoved into the back of your closet
Wrapping it up, hiding it away
You don’t know what that cost it

It costs it survival
But what you need is a revival
A shovel to resurrect,
And a compass to redirect,
Your footsteps so you find your way
And fear not the journey,
That should have begun yesterday.

For apathy is your enemy,
That seeks to suppress your success
So death to apathy,
The most violent sort of death!
Banish with it fear and laziness,
And negativity’s caress.

Let your passions explode,
And wage war against the apathetic,
Whether its academic, entertaining or simply poetic,
Let your passions pour forth and render apathy apologetic.

Bend it and twist it and turn it to your will!
Manipulate it until you’ve had your fill!
Until your emotions well up and begin to overflow
Until you’re suffering from passion overload!
Until you must create or sing or write or draw!
Until you’re broken and fixed and apathetic no more!
Until you’re ready to love and hate and go to war!
Until you’re human and whole and half and sore!
Until you’re living and breathing and an emotional whore!
Until you’re reckless and breathless and longing for more!
Until apathy is banished and the rebellion floored!
Until you’re ready to take the penalty against apathy and score!
Ready to live life as if it weren’t a chore
Ready to worry less and do so much more!
Until apathy is the Passover that dares not stop but soars
Far away from your dreams like the blood smeared door

Until you are ready to take a chance and ready to perform,
Ready to throw away the umbrella and dance in the storm
Ready to give apathy a one-way ticket to hell,
And banish the barriers in your mind that refuse to let you EXCEL!


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Kiss My mAke-Up

I sit and stare
I hope you’re there
Somewhere beneath this mask

I hope and pray
I wash away
And hope that you will last

Foundation’s hardly a foundation
Mascara doesn’t make my vision clear
The blush doesn’t provide the rush
Of the blood beckoned by a man’s touch

My eye shadow hides my eyes’ shadow
I’m tired but no one knows
Concealer is really a revealer
That my still waters are still shallow

No one can really see me
Under all this stuff
Yet still I pile on more
Hoping that it is enough

Today there was an E special
Talking about Brazilian weaves and lace fronts
I can’t really decide on which costume I really want

I want to go “natural”
Because it’s aesthetically deep
But every time I get before this mirror of mine
Its Mac and L’Oreal by the heap

The stars are airbrushed
And I don’t know how to keep up
So I dip every single brush
In hopes that I’ll measure up

They light up the night’s sky
And the eyes of the man I want
So I must weave my own Brazilian
And glue on my lace front

He wants a smaller waist
I remove the Biblical rib I was given
He wants rounder tits,
So the surgeon makes 2 more incisions

I don’t know by what I am driven
I seek not recognition or fame
I just want the average Joe
To see me as more than the average Jane

The pressure is immense
My caloric intake is on the rise
But my fear of a fat ass
Is imbedded in these Mickey D’s fries

So I swallow then I throw up
I digest and then I regurgitate
For the statistics echo in my head
As my up-chuck swirls on my plate

How can I be me?
When everyone else seeks to define who that is?
How can I be a size 12, when size 2 is the new 6?
Damn! Can you let a girl live?!

A pressure that’s all mine
Makes contentment impossible
A pressure that’s all the media’s
Makes self satisfaction implausible
So I reach out into the unknown
Fingernails firmly fixed on
Reaching for an image that’s trim and toned
A Halle Berry clone
Taking my place on the conveyor belt
Turning into a drone
Hoping to be churned out a Barbie
All paint and plastic – head to toe

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You know that feeling that you’ve worked hard but it’s just not good enough? You’ve achieved everything you want to no doubt, but yet in the bigger tapestry of your masterpiece it’s such a small thread that you barely  take the time to appreciate it. Without it, your picture thus far could have unravelled, yet stepping back it’s such a small detail that it hardly seems to matter. You smile, and thank God for the feeling of contentment your achievement brings and sigh a sigh of relief that you are not currently feeling the weight of disappointment that would have occured had you failed, but with that you quickly move on.

I am very familiar with this feeling. And that is how I feel. A year well spent, yet I seek ways (on my knees, in my mind, in my dreams) to leverage these achievements and use them as a stepping stone towards more. I hope, pray, and wish that if these are your hopes, prayers, and wishes you find ways to exponentially expand on your achievements of the past year, create new opportunities, and continue to weave your way to that which you define as #success as well.

The applause go off.
They say their proud.
I’m not pleased.
It just feels loud.

I know I did “alright.”
They call it “better than okay.”
Yet to me it feels
Like just another damn day.

Yes I worked hard
God knows I struggled
Every night on my knees
Begging him to bless this hustle.

They see the A-chievements
All lined up
And so they think
I’ve made the cut.

But they know not what chases me
What I breathlessly flee from
The reason why I push myself so
The reason why I run

Its more than meets the eye
Greater than basic achievements.
I want to lay to rest this fear
Bury these bereavements.

Its for the generation past
Its for the generation next
Its for everyone I feel responsible for
Everyone who still expects.

I don’t want to cause disappointment
Or a downturned smile
Because I could not provide
So God bless this child.

I want to have my own
To have and to hold
And I want to rest in that knowledge
Solid gold.

I know my hard work must meet
With the mistress known as opportunity
So I’ll push it to the limit
Working to the brink of insanity.

Yes I have faith.
But I’ll be damned if I don’t do my part
As long as blood circulates in my body
And flows to my beating heart.

I cannot be satisfied by subpar achievements
I cannot afford to do “alright”
My heart will not allow it
Therein lies my plight.

I’ll run in such a way as to get the prize
Not stopping when I stumble
I know what I’m running from
I remain ever humble.

I’ll run to the finish line,
Then I’ll run some more.
I know where I’m headed
Father fling wide the door!


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