Freedom

Category: Writing (page 1 of 2)

Jurgen Shpërdhea

Photo by Chris Mok || @cr.mok on Unsplash

Better off Without Me

I feel like the world is better
off without me,
Like my very birth was a
complete tragedy.

I feel like I live in a maze,
from which I cannot
escape,
And if they open my brain,
all they will find is pain.

And pity is a liquor that my
stomach cannot handle,
While I’m throwing up from
drinking one glass of
attention.

So have no mercy on my
soul, but roll my casket
open.
And let my corpse just fall
on the dirt, for every word
I’ve spoken.

Please laugh until you can’t
because this fool is finally
gone.
Father, the world deserves
better, than your second
son.
Mother should have
aborted me while I was still
in her stomach,
The very thought that I
made it this long, just
makes me want to vomit.

And sound the trumpets my
only love for your misery is
gone.
The one man that kept you
as a slave, just sung his
final song.

So smile on darling let me
see that beautiful face from
the hell where now I’m in.
You deserve only Heaven
and light, and not my dark
side that only fights like a
grinch.

No tears to swallow, inside
I’m hallow,
And numb the rope
I’m watching.
The old stole beneath my
feet,
while I feel my throat is
choking.

In my final moments I think
of this,
Can’t call it legacy.
Because the great men are
saving the world, and are
not losers like me.

Take this letter, as my last
will, and while I’m dead,
don’t shout me.
It doesn’t matter if I lived,
now I’m going out by
myself proudly.

And let the people know, if I
had more time maybe I
would’ve amounted
something.
But life is short, just like this
rope, and I think the world
is better off without me.

A Cry for Help

I feel a cry for help
gathering in my throat,
We die a second time,
when we tell ourselves no.

I’m finally numb in my mind,
and I’m blind,
My tears fall like the rain
from the sky, I am chained
inside.

The human is a tool in the
hands of this money
machinery,
We get replaced like wool,
when we hit seniority.

Suppress the revolution,
And kill the attributions.
Climb on our necks,
And steal all the cash.

Become kings of the world,
The revolution can wait.
Father’s deceiving their
votes,
Inquisition in religion’s
name.

The infants body for
breakfast,
The blood of soul for lunch,
Immortal and not ancient,
I’m not a poet, but I’m
harsh.

Sad but true,
People working for a wage,
The revolution can wait,
Sell yourself for a spoon.

Slaves building cities,
Jewels for the richest,
Power is a toy for lords,
But it’s hell for the poor.

I’m not talking to Albanians
only,
But to people made of flesh
and bone.
I’m talking about these
murderers,
On top of every town.

Seven continents, five
oceans,
In the hands of a few
hundreds.
Our planet, Earth the
poorest,
In the hands of these
Nazis.

Rise oh man kind,
Rise oh European,
Grab stones oh Asian,
And March oh African

America come together,
Australia burn the weather,
Antarctica melt and rise the
water levels,
To send to hell these rulers.

These rapist gentlemen,
And whore ladies wearing
silk,
That spend all day in vain,
And take more each.

This world has two kinds of
people,
A killer and a victim.
It’s survival of the fittest,
A millennium without
eating.

The revolution awaits no
strength,
And this is not a call for
war.
It is a cry for help,
Cause our power they
stole.

Its a sobbing,
A fall on my knees
for good.
Its a begging, humbling,
To have mercy
for ourselves like we should.

Cause we’re suffering to
every extent,
And we still keep working
for them.
Then we participate in
massacres,
Like we hate our damn
selves.

We must make a
revolution,
In order for them to work
with us.
And to share in distribution,
Every bite for every mouth.

And I hope with all my
heart,
The whole world gets the
message I send.
Before my name getting old
to start, The cry for help to come to
an end.

Augustine Altomare

Photo by Fabian Møller on Unsplash

Breathe

With the window down, he extended his left arm fully so he could reach out and catch the wind between his fingers. Behind the tint of his dark, plastic sunglasses, he slowly dropped his eyelids and allowed his eyes to fasten shut. The voices of those seated next to him became softer, then quieter, then silent. He didn’t have to see their lips moving or hands waving to know they were engaged amongst themselves; he knew they were there, as if their presence was simply palpable in the small space of the car. But even though he was right there with all of them, suddenly he wasn’t there at all. Or perhaps they weren’t there to him. Nonetheless the difference was the same. 

The only voice that could be heard was the one inside his head, the one that never silenced, the one that never stopped narrating all things around and within him, the one that never slept. 

Allowing his mouth to open ever so slightly, he felt a rush of air fill his lungs. Gently he captured as much of it as he could bear, feeling the edges of his ribs pressed out as his chest stretched to its limits. He heard the voice speaking, but then it too became fainter.

Then, as he breathed, something rare happened. The voice silenced. In the void that remained, there was a stillness. At first, it was startling. But this absence gave way to something new, to a calm that flowed through him. 

He breathed again.

In. 

And out. 

And in again. 

And suddenly he was alive. He was not only living, but in this moment he was alive. Now he was breathing more than air. He breathed in the sun, letting the warmth intoxicate his nerves as it shinned onto his face. He breathed the brisk chill of the air whipping past as they drove down these streets full of color and vibrance, feeling each and every tingle that danced across his outstretched arm. He breathed in the elation shared over laughter between good company, letting the glee sink deep into his lungs.

He breathed in life. In this moment he was alive. 

Deborah Akubudike

Photo by Josh Hild on Unsplash

Quarantine

I’m isolated. Not thinking; not screaming… just lost in my own thoughts.
Am I a thorn amongst lilies? The “precious” thread I’ve held for so long
chokes me till I vanish.
A virus I caught while holding on; unto a thread I thought would save me
it just wanted a taste of my pain.
Leaving me isolated alongside other convicts.
For I’m imprisoned in space for the choice that I made. I’m hospitalized
and as I stare at the doctors, they shake their heads slowly and sadly,
whispering gently, “There’s no cure… I’m sorry”.
Their voices sound faint, or is it my thought that’s fading?
Was it wrong that I touched one infected with love but now
I’m completely insane?
Is it fair that I hungered for passion and now I’m fed with anxiety and
pain?

For the doctors have no cure, yet my thoughts remain impure; and I
use the thread I grasped so tightly, to hang myself till I’m free; till I’m
reassured… ’till my pain is no more.

Is this me?
I know not really who is the next in line.
Who is willing to hold on to the thread… that thread – my dread.
Who is ready to be choked, till he can’t breathe, by love’s vines;
and be thrown down into hell’s busy quarantine.

I won’t consider it again… smirks.
‘Tis good to be finally free; ‘tis good to be me.
Sighs.

Photo by T on Unsplash

Let the Sleeping Dogs Lie

The whiskey eyes I drowned in, is where I died.

The feelings I masked so well resurrected, like a nightmare that felt so good; that

always kept me screaming your name till I couldn’t feel me.

There’s a shadow beside my bed and as I stare intently, passionately, I find myself

kissing pictures…. I’ve gone crazy.

And when I wipe the glass mirrors at work, I see you staring at my lips… I look away.

This is just torture.

I take my hand so I can’t let go; I’m just craving champagne – every red wine now looks

like the blood you took from me. And like a twig, you broke that connection.

That electricity that gave me life, you kissed it away.

Now I’m like a dead battery.

Walking dead.

With the memories that I fed on in my hand, I walk to the graveyard – the place I found you, and I place the memories gently beside you.

It’s time to let the sleeping dogs lie.

So I let you lie – dead in my mind.

Trevor Denny Marshall

Photo by David Emrich on Unsplash

The Market

Oh blessed totality
Oh holiest economy
Seems our branding is in symmetry
Sailing on the diamondish sea
Of empty black tranquility

Those postcards in the newspaper are always divination.
Dead end show flyer in a paperless nation.
Investors scream and shout in the ovation
Wrecked out in an ocean of meaningless stations.

There’s no you and there’s no me.
Seems our brand is in symmetry
Lowest gaze to a modern astrology
Drawing down the drowning in and on empty.

Stable ground was we guess not ours to have
Stolen from under us while you gnaw and lash
and at our treading tired ankle and calve.

Oh blessed commodity
Oh holiest economy
our magic brand slow sunk
Right into
the ever owned land

Operatic Rapture

Is this could be going on
Or could it be not
Trapped in the earthquake
No breaking out
But I Doubt I’ll get caught

Wake up
Get fucked
Go Get
your gun
and pee

I got nothing, and get then done
Cause it’s like Kum and Go, 10w40, getting slow
Whatever happens is ok in gene-real
In general.

I committed it
a person at midnight
Knife crossed throat
Squirted till they (were) blood broke
I’ve just started but they’re always out to get me
On my way to work and to hand out the D
Oh well ‘cause you were never we
Didn’t mean to make you feel
This is all too real

Running while I wipe at sweat
Tried to take a pet when we first met
On the way to the pound hands holding a big net
Our main characters not dead yet
I’ll bet

Where’d ya go?
Ooooohhhhhhhhhhh
My I tested intent
May I pass the salt
While you waltz with Walt
Woooooaaahchooooooo

Sometimes I wish nothing upon myself
Woaaaggggatthhggrrrgggghlll

I make out shadows
They’re carpentering
But can they make a deck
“No we can’t”
Can you build this deck?
“No won’t”

Natural disasters befell onto me and
Disturbed my soul greatly

Astronomy dude! Help me!
This was never my intent!
Surely I’m not rude!

I’m a person
They’re just a person
Don’t kill ‘em

Oh well, I’m leaving
You may not
I think I may
You may not
I’d like to leave now

(A scuffle ensues)
I have another place I know!

Who thinks they can do all this stuff to me? Who thinks they can screw
like this on me?
I need escape always.

You now see
A complete
“Osophy”
Gotta go

Photo by timJ on Unsplash

Sonnet

Allegory was in vogue at the time
Ghosting general gauntlet with blame
Computer alluded to morrow slime
We mount elusive for money and fame

Passivity possessed passion the most
Can we really control through attitude
Keep the trust in those who always spoke boast
The marches trawl to drudge apart mood

The advantage stood to the watchers view
Looks like the new wont fulfill my account
Seems as if the future just wont make do
Couldn’t stop the wanting endless amount

Blandness is causing listless aggression
Doubt anyone will learn any kind lesson

Alejandro Hilario

Photo by Allie Smith on Unsplash

The Last Word

Hello ______,

I am writing to say how much I loved your last book, ______. It was phenomenal. I didn’t read it, not the whole thing at least, but I didn’t have to. I’m going to be bold now and say in modern times, we don’t need to read WHOLE books anymore. Who has time for that? not the under-60 and New York City crowd. Long novels are a pre-smartphone understanding of entertainment. The greatest works of literature never tell anything to an audience, they always allude to more, and now that more never has to be written. It’s commonly understood among fans of horror films and strip clubs that the most potent source of fear is our own imagination. From the very last line of your novel, ______, I was hooked, I’ve read more book endings than anyone. I like to go to the bookstore and spend sunny afternoons reading the last paragraphs of hundreds of books. That is why I’m such a fan of your work, even the last typed word of ______ is perfect – like a bullet to the heart, or a nail gun to the hand.

This brings me to the point of my email. I’d like to propose, a new type of book, a collaboration between us, of just endings to novels that never need to be written. What words do we pay attention to? Someone’s dying words of course. This book will be like the last words of a dying poet summing up their whole life into the most important things they thought. A greatest hits album without all the filler of random songs the audience skips. If you are hesitant, just think of Morse Code, or the telegram. Did sailors sit in submarines at the bottom of the ocean, to intercept and listen to the beautiful rhythmic tapping of enemy ships? Was there an art to Morse code? It doesn’t matter because art has evolved, and so must we. 

As it is, I’d like to let you know that a lot of young people are using YouTube to not watch films, but the most emotional clips from films. Oftentimes it’s a street kitten being rescued into a forever home, or a favorite song mixed with an anime. Even more convenient are top ten lists. Anything can make us have that emotional connection we crave, like the wind through the trees, a cloudless sky, or a family soup nobody remembers how to make anymore. But to do it fast, check out the top ten saddest movie scenes on YouTube. I propose the same but with literature. 

I want to create a brand-new form of writing. With your connections in publishing and my knowledge of technical innovation, I know we can.

Thank you ______.

For faster communication feel free to text ______.

Best,

______

Caitlin Hayes

Fear of Love: The Irony

Imagine if we acknowledge that we need oxygen to breathe, but carry a value proposition that advises us not to believe it is our birthright to breathe oxygen. That we are unworthy of feeling safe in the fact that as we live, we may also breathe. We see how insane this proposition is. But so too with love, through our conditioning, we can believe that love is not our core of existence. We may see in the most extreme of situations where we believe love is a luxury and not our source of existence.

When we see love, deep true love, we may balk at it. May believe it is an illusion, or a trap. I present to you the alternative perspective. Love is life force. Love is the base of our energy exchange with all things and most importantly with the way we view ourselves. This factor alone can determine a persons aptitude for experiencing happiness, and potential for experiencing peace. So when we can see or glimpse real love we may then feel fear. Fear of the conditions of that love, fear of the veracity of that love, and fear of the harmonizing with that feeling of love, and fear that love itself doesn’t exist. Because to see true love and to become true love are two different ways to experience love. The first presumes you are separate, while the latter recognizes you, at your core of existence, are one with love. Any time we bring fear into a love equation we bring to the surface our limiting abilities to sync with love in our life. The miraculous flow of love that once we connect to completely, we embrace our existence completely.

So if someone tells you they love you, appreciate the affection, but understand deeply that this is truly the most valuable gift we can receive from another – acknowledgement of source, exchanged. Sharing the recognition that love at its core is the deepest way we can relate with ourselves and with another. This is because love is our purest existence. When we shutter from love, run away from those that we share love, we are allowing fear of lack of love (the deepest fallacy in our human condition) to deny you the experience of life. Because to experience love, deep true love, is to experience life.

Nigel Moses

Letting Go

Randomly, I’m steady daydreaming
When I think of you I’m cheesy
I’d like to think I stole your heart
It’s far from a fairy tale so you might not believe it
You probably don’t

You’re saying that you need to cut me out
but you probably can’t
Because life is bliss and you want to live it happily
And you’re stuck
and that’s probably what we might believe
Because chasing you is not my cup of tea
Rather get the key, unlock the cage
and let you be free

I play my cards
I need some spades
because I’ve had enough broken hearts
When you smile it’s like fireflies
Instead I fall in love
It’d be better if you love
Life is way too short to be feeling,
feeling low
Stop signs are on your heart
so I know you’re letting go

Letting go
Letting go
Letting go
Letting go

Ashley Fitch

Hues

God warped my brain into cigarettes
I sold them to my lover
He’s made of a violet aura consumed by
A yellow devil
This side of him gnaws at me
Molding me into anything
better than myself
Perhaps a knife
He gnaws at me as I stare into the sky
Drifting away from myself

He swallows all of my voices
Burning them deep in his gut
I am hollow
I am hungry
For more dirty secrets
My secrets give him a
third eye with hints of silver
I remain silent
as he smokes alone

Doe Eyes

Caught you with doe eyes and a suggesting smile that followed you for miles
silly, sarcastic, with an air of mystery
surprised you with wit
making up for lack of hips
we both tripped on each other’s heart
so, why doesn’t it make sense?

BOTH

If you just loved me there would be no animosity
I wouldn’t grit my teeth
We wouldn’t clench our fists
There’s be no need to hit,
Our flame was dead on arrival because
you weren’t weary enough to love me like a minefield

Make everything perfect and give me the answers right now because I love you
and my co-dependence is just as innocent as those doe eyes you said were beautiful
so why can’t this be accepted?
Because my love for you is unlike yours for me?
Is dynamite wrapped in good intentions?

Oh how I care so careless with a cruel mood
I’m sad about your hard days taken place by sleepless nights
but just be more quiet about it

Because your pain crumbles my world
and I’ll take the blame
and be centerfold of everything wrong that I want to make right.
You’re supposed to just smile

It’s all I wanted to see so instead I can associate myself with that light
It’s my world because eggshells aren’t too supportive to walk on
So please don’t push your luck when you’re at fault

Mistaking me for passionate not realizing I’m nothing
but the romance that lies between a rock and a hard place
forming a boulder pushing through all you saw
in those promising first days

Doe eyes aren’t innocent, they’re pain and enlarged by sadness
so please stand back since you can’t hold me as tight as I’d like,
so I’ll just break all your things so they can love me to pieces

You think you can do what you want?
Of course I have to because my id isn’t only my pilot
it’s an overbearing mother pissed to see me want more than self destruction
More than you picking up those pieces because they didn’t love me hard enough
so as you exhaust yourself I’ll break them, break down, break again
and you just can’t stop cleaning

Shhh! Go to sleep
It’s a matter of rest
you’ll be tired but OK
nothing happened because I slept it off and purged it out my system
Don’t ever say you’re scared to me again
that’s another pet peeve of mine and honestly there’s no reason

I’m the same hip chick with doe eyes you brought your way
but love makes the difference and it’s deep
so much as to let me break myself with everything that rubs me wrong
and yes, everything rubs me wrong
so don’t rub me wrong

Maybe just keep telling me I hate you everyday
it’s my only wish
my hate is distant, comforting, and safe
choose the unanimous, and walk away from the love
you can walk away but I can’t hide
and I’ll just prey on the next with doe eyes a little more wide

Dexter Toby

Lyft New York

Life is a beautiful distraction
time is so abstract
Pablo’s out of order vibrancy
with Rembrandt essence
but the substance of Basquiat

Moments are framed
camera couldn’t have been more perfectly aimed
a picture so sweet it could never be named

‘Tis a bitter sweet quality
have and have not
agony in wait
a slow frustrating untie of knots
impatiences of a horn beep
a slow drive with true love in opposite seat
falling in and losing love

Its kinda’ like that
put my headphones on in a taxi and sit back
open my minds eye and sit back
this city’s alive
this city’s every echo
in tune with a soundtrack

The Harlem Renaissance
the requiem of dream’s
midsummer night’s heat wave and subway performers glee
44 caliber spree in October
birth of Hip Hop, the bridge is over
bodies dump in cement to erect Trump’s towers
newspaper ads that steal central park visitors’ freedom and power

The Jackson 5, Pollock, Freddy, Marc, Curtis –
15 minutes of fame as hours, years
Gordon Parks eye that makes
janitors relate regally, standing
Hell’s Kitchen beauty queen keys Sinatra ballads
soul food for smoothing even the roughest pallets

Such a beautiful beat
Jay-z timbre, on a Reuben roll
Is the only way to the throne

to eat just grab a big bite of the Apple
And sink your teeth in to leave a mark

Falling in and losing love
Its kinda like that
Put my headphones on in a taxi and sit back
Open my minds eye and sit back
This city’s alive, this city’s a soundtrack

Love hate relationship
Open, visually exclusive
Juanita didn’t do it
Lies and rough rides
Plungers sodomize tarry stops
selling loosies to choke outs garnered by skin type
Song can grow cold, reviving somber blues as Sachmo blows history pain true
Lennon belts a yesterday tune
Cab and Alley dances a waltz with the beautiful Copeland
Nikki Giovanni couldn’t have wrote it alone
Black Ace’s parachute from high rises in night
Into a ribbon of red brake lights playing a saxophone

Blood flow into the heart, our homeland the towers
Ancient dusky pavement rivers
The great city is villain, hero, healer…

Falling in and losing love
Its kinda like that
Put your headphones on and sit back
Open your eyes and sit back
This city’s alive, this city
we are it’s soundtrack

In the Shadow of Your Smile

The shadow of your smile when you are gone
will color all my dreams and light the dark til dawn
look into my eyes, my love, and see the treasure I see

All the lovely things you are to me
our wistful little star was far and so high
in our perfect moment shared between you and I

Hours stretched for years in your arms and eyes
flame has turned to flicker
left floating like fireflies

So we will share our last dance as if flames of candlelight
So our love never dies
as we make love vigorous yet softly but teary eyed

Secret affair concludes – after just one more little lie
we will keep this secret but have nothing left to hide
and go on with our lives,

And when we happen to pass each other by
carefully meeting eyes
I’ll pull my lady closer while you embrace into his side
and none will be all the wiser

But behind our eyes
memories of our passionate times
your revenge and mine
more or less the perfect crime

So as you lay with yours and I lay with mine
we’ll be quietly repenting yet smitten all the while
A guilty smirk is the only evidence to be found

To give memory a kiss
the memory of a passionate night
to see you only dressed a bath moonlight
to feelings of your moisture and trembling in bliss

More could be told but as a gentleman I refrain
but Mona Lisa and I have it in common
sweetest joy and pain
to always be a stranger who smiles inside when I hear your name
Yet always a stranger I’ll remain

Whenever you taste our wine
when in your bath as water caresses your skin,
when you have that moment we’ll share our vengeance and secret sin
We will rest in that release of ecstasy divine

You can look at him and see me all the while
and if ever he neglects his treasure
I am there, in that moment
In the shadow of your smile

on The Day He Created

Have you ever had a birthday when you ain’t get nothing?
Have you ever went to sleep but have satisfied nothing?
Nothing to sip to ease pain,
Not a dollar to you name,
No one to care if you wake to relive the same old story every day?

Out of the nest, you fly, and Hawks do the same
Welcome to a glimpse of a cold world
I saw a homeless man holding a sign saying
“I have Good want Nothing”
A thirsty soul question for you
Is it in you, the spiritual strength to continue?

It should leave you hungry for something
You look deep in the abyss and see your life as a whole
Try to fill that void in your soul
Picture trying to fill that hole…

Strive for the best but you lose
Still, in your station you keep moving along
Still never elevating your head out the hole
every wake to sleep
Some dark times to think about
No time to think
hardly anyone makes it out
your great great grandfather, nor your father
repeating his life cycle thinking you’re overdue for riches

Resentment
Respect
Rest
Restraint
Resignation
Ideals
Faith –
in action leave residue
only one option
then and now
is hard work.

But still, you see yourself sitting in the crowd
and not getting the award, on stage,
giving the announcement,
Thinking to yourself, should I choose the sword?
Hell’s bell, “better call Saul”
Could you lose the passion in the night?
suffering long the slavery of crafty demonic torment and sleepless nights?

Critics without a home let me get this right
you tell me I didn’t do it right
but you aren’t at the top of my food chain
you just feed yourself on opinions
of my fruits in my legacy
How do you make a champion and never fought a fight?
Rocky may be the road of creed
When you live for what you create, you’re “good”
but people believe you need help
You live for that one day when you debut,
begging and longing to contribute by your own deed

Imposter!

Expect nothing
expect nothing, but don’t ever lose your self. Believe!
Put your faith in your creator
and let your belief convert your being,
Keep a safe distance from those
who only see your talent when you are great,
tell the world you are like god
and live as your own savior
Even when you give your inner glow
and let god live within
He will shine on you
Whether your struggle is to contribute food for thought or just eat.

A gamble
A hussle
A bottle

Never sit a hater at your table
to break bread and sharpen his teeth
Never feed them from a bowl because they will eat twice.
You prepared a table to sit them down with fast food
Make them sit in your world and fix them a plate
To see your vision raw and cooked.

All I see is pain, yanked from comfort of womb,
birthed to be apart from warmth of true love
to reside and die,
search to be whole in a cold place.

Until the end you only adapt to it becoming numb
no matter what your place is.
Death must only be a momentary release
Win or lose in life, death will give you no answers
So why fear loss in the first place?

Lock a man up for years
but you can never imprison his mind
The terminator could kill “Tookie”
Change is beautiful
Late bloomers are still beautiful blossoms
An opus has its day as the pain ironically completes
Stealing the beauty of life to learn about the beauty in it
to try to rescue others, from weed to rose bloom
we’re all rare flowers that bloom before we are planted
and we will all leave this planet
with or without NASA

So if people tell you failure is due
or even tell you your life is wasted
expect nothing
expect nothing
but the fact that we all live on Earth’s surface
expect nothing.

So continue to work your hardest
believe your hero or heroine heard that too
Put your ten toes down in the mud
and live to the essence of you
If you say “I am self made,”
I need no vow other than one I say to myself
Don’t fool yourself
No glory if death takes me
because I live like every splash of color on the canvas
I live on and off the canvas
I hop off God’s paintbrush
forcing you to truly look at the canvas
so why would you ever want to count me out?

Abstract, so as heartbeats beat and breath breathes
my life pulses onto my canvas
I will always be alive to complete my conquest.
So hater, naysayer, non-believer,
and doubter of my potential best
as long as a heart is in my chest,
I will show you my best
and like a painting I will speak.

ALIEN VIEW OF AFRICAN HUMANS

Story of a people, born in hell,
Harvested to Harvest,
Into a life of Darwin,
Tragically victims of America’s progress,

Genetic experiments,
Enslaved, given cocaine to increase daily productivity,
Then cops got bigger bullets
‘Cause twenty twos can’t stop the offspring
of Big Sara and Bernard

Doctor Frankenstein creates super workers,
Everyday he looks at his problems,
Eagerly trying to lay, or devise the solutions
to destroy his monster, playing close to chess
Prophetic he blended in his monster his own DNA,
so it’s a game of self.

Wrote the declaration and raped
and made bastard house help in the same day,
Increasingly we never learn from history,
Today we repeat, Jeffersonic, #MeToo
His hand sells the same poison to people.

Restricted to the black quarters,
And it leaked outside of borders,
Children still come from poverty,
Eager to still appease a Master to be worthy,

In the end it’s still the same story,
He is doubted, and considered less
than man in every achievement,
Subtle slight in title addressing.

Ask Obama why he’s hated
when he sought only to help the people,
Must black always be more than pigment,
Ethical resentment, black in color not in spirit?
Rage inside but spirit humble
Zulu warriors fighting cannons with spears still,
In the case of Kaepernick he light skin with good hair,
Caucasian parent and upbringing,
And still made America mad
by protesting killings of black people

But Fredrick Douglas did
and got the same but changed the think tank,
Unity’s and equality’s wheels start moving
once the country’s healed from splitting
Truth is that we lost a lot of young men

Will there have to be a Gettysburg again?
Eternally can we resolve the issues?

And brothers yet again,
Literal like when master’s son worked in the field
and master’s son went to school,
Land we in wasn’t even ours
so we walk hypocritically on stolen soil

{The Rub}

Sins still the same:
money, sex, power, drugs, theft, pride, and lust,
All while we fine Christmas.
Claim to love thy brother as thyself,
Must be irony and shame to look upon the people
that are symbolic of the story of man.
Earth, people aren’t ready for
what an advanced being would say

Probably would conduct experiments
to see why we act this way,
Endless amusement maybe,
we the pet reality TV show of the universe,
On their covert safari tours of Earth,
Problematic but palatable for me to understand,
Looking through one race in history,
Evident that my race probably did similar to every other race like this in early B.C. History,

{Here is the rub again}

EARTH

Eternally
Always
Repeating
Tragic
History

So we kill them off, shift land masses
and restart periodically,
Maybe they will look at
Skyscraper remains like Pyramids,
Coming out the cradle again,
Alien view of humanity is to be hands on but unseen,
Because we seen black skin mistreated for centuries,
Logically we know we would receive worse being seen as highly intelligent, foreign and green.

Ashley Fitch

Doe Eyes

Caught you with doe eyes and a suggesting smile that followed you for miles
silly, sarcastic, with an air of mystery
surprised you with wit
making up for lack of hips
we both tripped on each other’s heart
so, why doesn’t it make sense?

BOTH

If you just loved me there would be no animosity
I wouldn’t grit my teeth
We wouldn’t clench our fists
There’s be no need to hit,
Our flame was dead on arrival because
you weren’t weary enough to love me like a minefield

Make everything perfect and give me the answers right now because I love you
and my co-dependence is just as innocent as those doe eyes you said were beautiful
so why can’t this be accepted?
Because my love for you is unlike yours for me?
Is dynamite wrapped in good intentions?

Oh how I care so careless with a cruel mood
I’m sad about your hard days taken place by sleepless nights
but just be more quiet about it

Because your pain crumbles my world
and I’ll take the blame
and be centerfold of everything wrong that I want to make right.
You’re supposed to just smile

It’s all I wanted to see so instead I can associate myself with that light
It’s my world because eggshells aren’t too supportive to walk on
So please don’t push your luck when you’re at fault

Mistaking me for passionate not realizing I’m nothing
but the romance that lies between a rock and a hard place
forming a boulder pushing through all you saw
in those promising first days

Doe eyes aren’t innocent, they’re pain and enlarged by sadness
so please stand back since you can’t hold me as tight as I’d like,
so I’ll just break all your things so they can love me to pieces

You think you can do what you want?
Of course I have to because my id isn’t only my pilot
it’s an overbearing mother pissed to see me want more than self destruction
More than you picking up those pieces because they didn’t love me hard enough
so as you exhaust yourself I’ll break them, break down, break again
and you just can’t stop cleaning

Shhh! Go to sleep
It’s a matter of rest
you’ll be tired but OK
nothing happened because I slept it off and purged it out my system
Don’t ever say you’re scared to me again
that’s another pet peeve of mine and honestly there’s no reason

I’m the same hip chick with doe eyes you brought your way
but love makes the difference and it’s deep
so much as to let me break myself with everything that rubs me wrong
and yes, everything rubs me wrong
so don’t rub me wrong

Maybe just keep telling me I hate you everyday
it’s my only wish
my hate is distant, comforting, and safe
choose the unanimous, and walk away from the love
you can walk away but I can’t hide
and I’ll just prey on the next with doe eyes a little more wide