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S.N.A.F.U. : Situation Normal All Fucked Up

S.N.A.F.U. is a drawing process that requires thinking abstractly on multiple layers of paper in a way you, the creator, deem fit. There’s no right or wrong way of utilizing this technique; it is solely for expressing your thought process and construction is what’s important. I learned to think outside of the box. This drawing style enabled me to utilize mediums that I would have never considered to use for drawing. Also, this technique teaches that mistakes are valuable and part of learning and creating. In addition, everyone may not understand what you have created, but it’s ok. You are the creator.  Rather than explaining what you have created, explain how you created, explain your cognitive processes.

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A Touch of Nature

After and after I keep coming back

To this place which holds nothing

And everything

This emptiness which seems to be full

The dazzling sun glittering on the waters

Blinding my eyes, opening my thoughts

This breeze, sometimes gentle sometimes not

But always washes away the worries

Like a mother’s presence

The sprinkle of water on skin

Like a blessing from nature

A token of gratitude, a letter of appreciation

Who has the time to come here

And admire the ecstasy

Of the kingdom of Poseidon

To stand and feel the winds

As they gently kiss the face

And thank Zeus for the miracle

To set foot in between

The threshold of nature and reality

Which are two very different things, but not

Different at all

But my heart sings a song

The symphony of nature in my mind’s ear

And drags me back to this exuberant

Part of the universe

And nature rejoices

The waves dance

The sun shines

The winds blow

And my soul finally matches

The rhythm of my heart

Creating the contentment that I had been

Searching for everywhere

Right inside me

 

(picture by @ri.yaa on instagram)

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Intertwined.

There you are again, surrounding me,
showing up anytime you please.
Everywhere–materializing in the obscure,
bits and pieces of you embedded in the cracks.

There you are in my favorite book,
reading between my lines in a tactile manner.
And there, you’re a lyric of a brilliant song,
singing me everything I need to understand.
Over there. I find you smirking through
the steam of my mug of coffee,
reminding me of your warmth.

I find you in my dreams,
behind my eyelids,
on my skin, in my mouth.
Most of all, you emerge
from my pencil,
and I can’t keep you away.
You have a home on these
pages, spilling out each day,
in shapes and patterns from
the words I write for you.

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What is Poetry? Part 2

 

What is Poetry? – Part 2

Poetry is the forsaken cry, the loneliest voices with the loudest minds,
captured in ink, blighted by drink, or bolstered,
emboldened with the bravado to think big,
to sing on a page,
to rage against the silence of days
spent drifting through the passive malaise,
the love of something and not for how it pays.

Poetry is the air up there, despair in the mind of a scribe
at not being able to fly, so it is
the flight of birds described by those who live in unknowns
to those who dream of being free.
Poetry is anything between a sucker punch or a long lunch,
a coupe de grace or a warm embrace.
It’s the lines of life in a face,
the wrinkled space between
never and eternity.

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Parched Lips

My lips have become

A parched land

From the drought

Of not saying your name

For so long,

Even when my tongue

Brushes over the cracked surface

I feel a familiar ache

To just return to the taste of you

Upon my lips,

But then I remember,

No matter the yearning for you to be the one,

There were empty kisses you left behind,

A trail my lips have tried to erase,

But, parches over instead,

Leaving croaks of syllables in the air.

 

© Soshinie Singh

Author of the Phoenix Letters and the Mist Calling

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At My Best…IDFWU

You were a lesson
Who I was not afraid to choose
And at my best, I’m never really
Afraid to lose
Because through loss
We all gain perspective
So, you were a choice
And I? Well, I was selective
You were never a mistake
Just a divine option…
I was brave enough to make

Continue reading At My Best…IDFWU

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Sinners Have Souls Too.

[It is a funeral in a typical church on the north side women are crying while fanning themselves because it’s summer. It has come to the time where loved ones get to share a word. The pastor declares a two-minute limit.]

Me: God is good all the time…

Audience: And all the time God is good.

Me: This raggedy muthafucka ain’t never been shit, and God saw that and killed that nigga. In addition, fuck boys cannot prosper spewing fuckery.

[An usher comes to encourage me off the stage. I motion with my pointer finger. One more thing must be said.]

Me: singing Come inside. Take off your coat. I’ll make you feel at home. Now let’s pour a glass of wine cause now we’re all alone. [There are two ushers now.]  I been waiting for you babe just let meeeee… [They’re pushing me off stage.] …hold you close to me… [I break away and run to the casket] cuz I been dying for you to make love to meeeeee.

Audience: [mouths dropped]

Me: [a distinct bow]

Me: [flips off funeral goers and leaves]