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Nahi

I survived an earthquake
and my soul is still shaking inside
bones rattling
my heart beating too fast

 

what if I just trapped myself into a bigger mess
I survived an earthquake
I fought the earth
and the stars
I changed my way
I saved myself

 

and yet here I am
with hope hiding behind me
hoping to not be taken away
from the monstrous beast
depression that keeps
taunting me
telling me
stupid girl,
you were never meant to be happy
you were never meant to
have love that treated you right

 

and I don’t think I have it in me
to stand up again
to fight back
so I just whisper
I just whisper to myself
nahi nahi nahi

 

and someday I might
hold my self together
sew my self back up
and fight

 

but for now, I just whisper nahi

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If You Come, Love

Love,
if you come knocking at my door
turn the knob and enter
this time I won’t answer
I’m tired of rushing to greet only to get disappointed.

Love,
I’m sorry for giving up right on your turn
it’s unfair of me to judge you
based on the actions of the ones before
or their lack thereof.

Love,
it’s ok to make yourself at home
get acquainted with the lonely rooms
pay attention to where the shadows form
I’m tired of providing only sun
and blooming when there’s no one to care for.

Love,
if after all this you decide to stay
if despite all this you still want to make home
my heart is yours to tame
my soul is yours to love.

Love,
one last word of advice, though
beware of full moons.
The tides get high
and I’d hate to drown you too.

© Máh Lima


Photo by Albert Dera on Unsplash

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Rico Lowe Jr. (@panafrico) – the message

the message
stale dreams crust over like a syrupy sweet
after all what’s to dream if chance of miracle’s bleak?
what’s to fight- if a man invests fear in defeat
what is love but a curious leap? – off the edge
what’s the purpose of men fighting for peace? –
when its said temp-tation and lust make men weak,
who’s to blame for the blood in the streets?
the hust-ler or the politician giving the speech?
y’all don’t hear me, if the world was to come to an end,
would the poet proceed to narrate with the pen?
doc-ument the event,
how those waves rose over our heads,
swallowed us in a tide- of death
what the may-ans said
does the soul really die in the flesh?
are men capable of righteous steps?
thine eyes have met- too many murders,
not enough sermons,
what else is veiled be-hind my curtains?
you will never know
and i guess thats the lesson of life
stop questioning; start counting blessings tonight,
the man that knows something knows nothing
but even men that know nothing know the feeling of suffering,
life is complicated, search for your vantage
and maybe then we can understand what the plan is,
together.

 

 

 

 

 

________________________________

Photo Credit: Photo by “My Life Through A Lens” on Unsplash

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The Ashes

I held onto her
With a grip so tight
Sand couldn’t even escape
Slip between my fingers

I held onto the thought of her
As if letting you go
Would suck out the life
That barely existed in me

Worry sets my brain on fire
She begins to slip away
My heart and soul begin to burn
I lose control
I become lost in a pile of ashes
One speck at a time
Being lifted by the frigid air
And blown away into the past

For the first time I realized
This feeling is different
You see I am no longer holding onto
My abuser or
The ones who have wronged me
I’m holding onto me
The old me
The me that was beaten down
And burned
Until she was just a pile of ashes
For she is something I learn from everyday
She taught me how to fight for me
She taught me how to believe in me
She taught me that time is magical

Though she is not in my bones anymore
I still see traces of her every day
That small bench
Where loneliness surrounded her
Not allowing anyone to come near
That creaky window
She covered up
So that no one could see her scars
And that porch with the swinging chair
Where she watched the people
Who were supposed to love her
Pass by
Without acknowledging her presence
Ignoring her humanity
Leaving teardrops
To saturate her t-shirt

I believe in her
But I can’t have her
I left the ashes on the ground
And walked away
To a better me
To a better life
And let me tell you–
The best is yet to come

 

 

 

 

___________________________________

Photo by John-Mark Kuznietsov on Unsplash

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Welcoming 2018

 

2017 was a rough year for many, and 2018 seems like a shooting star because all we can do is hope and feel that it will be a better year. I feel it deeply. 2018 is meant to be a good year. But it also makes me scared. Scared of what’s ahead. I am in the present but through my writings I also live in the past, as well as the future with the hope with each keystroke I can place strength, hope and love in everyone’s heart. Keep the hope alive, and never give up. Because whatever you experienced in 2017 was preparing you for the best of 2018. Never give up on hope. Never give up on love. Never lose strength.

by: Soshinie A. Singh

Author of The Phoenix Letters, The Phoenix Letters Return & The Mist Calling

IG: @soshiniesingh.author | Facebook: Soshinie A. Singh

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Southern Hospitality

We govern ourselves

according to a moral creed

that ensures that

any individual born and bread here

exhibit warm,

welcoming

and hospitable behavior…

It’s what we refer to as

Southern Hospitality.

Although

it has been mocked

and taken for-granted

you yearn for it

and

we don’t know

how to cope in a world without it…

No dis to

cold shoulders,

mean mugs

and

entry into rooms with empty greetings

but

we learn,

that when you walk into a room,

you greet respectfully

every being.

And we always remember

to appear gracious and courteous

in the presence

of others…

So

discontinue your

side eye,

and learn to smile

and compliment people,

as they pass by.

Let’s make southern hospitality

that much easier, to come by. ..

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How The Men I Dated Helped Destroy My Self-Image.

How The Men I Dated Helped Destroy My Self-Image.

Society has a real strong focus on self-love and how you only need yourself to be happy, and I get that, I really do. Society also acts like the relationships you have with others don’t have a toll on you. I started thinking about all the men I dated over the years and how badly they fucked me up. I decided to be so petty and call a couple out.

S: This was my first “real” boyfriend. I saw the world in him, that type of jazz. Turns out in the end he was a total piece of trash but any who. This was the man who simply couldn’t take no for an answer. This was the man who pushed me, and ripped my pants off of me after I said no a million times. This was the man who helped destroy my self-image by teaching me that the men who were supposed to love me couldn’t possibly respect me. This was the man who showed me how much I was really worth to him. How could I mean so little and how could someone have so little respect for me?
M: This one was probably the person who fucked me up the most in life. Well maybe even second. This was the man who promised me the world, promised me a future. This was the man who made me feel safe. This was also the man who left me by stating that he simply didn’t care about me anymore. This was the man who helped me destroy my self-image by proving to me that the worst thoughts I had about myself were real. Nobody hated me more than I hated myself. The thoughts inside my head kept me up at night, constantly thinking that I wasn’t enough, the love I had wasn’t desirable.
The men I dated have ruined my self-image in so many ways, whether it was calling someone fat who was a lot smaller than me, telling me how being assaulted made me broken, putting their hands on me with anything but love in mind.  The people I have met in life have really fucked me up along the way. I started to see myself the way these men treated me, I dated so many cowards that treated me like trash that I simply began to believe love wasn’t real, love was just something Hollywood made up to make a couple billion dollars.
I dated so many men who simply didn’t know how to love me, and it made me believe I wasn’t worth loving, my self-image was already fucked up from having anxiety and depression but the relationships I had with these men just put fuel to the fire.
I write a ton about self-love because I spent years not being able to love myself and with men who just couldn’t love me. I saw these broken men and tried to fix them, and that was such a mistake. I was trying to fix these boys who didn’t want to be fixed, who grew fond of making a joke out of me.
Self-love takes a very long time after dealing with abusive men and awful relationships, I have not mastered self-love yet and if you haven’t either that is okay, you’re not undesirable just because you haven’t mastered self-love yet. I promise someone is going to love the shit out of you. Keep going.

Scars heal.

 

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Top 10 Posts of 2017—No. 6

Chitiyaan Kaliyaan

IG: @heavensanar

Read other work by Roomana at:

GenreUrbanArts.com

 

Meri chittiyaan kaliyaan ve, oh baby meri chitiyaan kaliyaan ve….*
Aisha rolled her eyes as she stared at the huge tv screen in front of her while waiting for Asma to get her eyebrows done. Continue reading Top 10 Posts of 2017—No. 6

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Top 10 Posts of 2017 — No. 8

Dear Daughters

by M.E. Peters

IG:@m.e.peters

Read other work by Molly at:

GenreUrbanArts.com

Dear daughters,

I hope when you look up at me
you see more than surviving.
I hope you can smell gunpowder
on my torn open flesh-
see the wounds dripping from me
and know how hard I fought
to be your mother. Continue reading Top 10 Posts of 2017 — No. 8

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Top 10 Posts of 2017 — No. 9

What is Poetry? Part 1

by Chris Eyes

IG:@seesawandsaysay

Read other work by Chris at:

GenreUrbanArts.com

 

What is Poetry? Part 1

Poetry is the expanse of
the imagination that lies,
dormant though brooding
until it manifests itself in a bloom.

Poetry is a womb,
obsessed with itself
but self-aware enough
to know that it is bound for a tomb.

Poetry is a wound,
heartache expressed in words,
the reaction to how it hurts,
feeling how pain works,
like peeling back layers of a scab.

Poetry is a drab day,
suddenly lit by the sun’s rays,
bursting through gray cloud,
and splaying out, proud
to have finally beaten the gloom
and touching as much as it can.

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When you’re tired of your man give me a call.

when you’re tired of saying his name

just give me a call

when you get fed up with lies and forced conversations

with half-hearted smiles and a touch of acting

just give me a call

when you get tired of seeking his attention

because his priority isn’t you

just give me a call

when you’re ready i’m ready

just give me a call

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Fictional.

Perhaps she let
fear hold her back.

Her head reeled with
thoughts like fractals,
an endless realm.
Things became difficult
and intense and made
her desire to sleep.

She knew there was
never an acceptable
reason to deny love,
but at the time it seemed
like an unattainable miracle
to be chosen.

She should have
drank deeply
to reveal
the exquisite
nature of things,
instead
she sank meekly
with silent
shadows of failure,
escaping parted lips,
a breath
coalesced
with ridiculous
fictional
longings.

 

 

______________________________

Photograph: Lanaya

@writing.for.the.calm

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Dazzle Me

I am a dark sea.
You are a dazzling light
that intensifies,
as morning is
on its way.
I bend my head
and ponder,
as a collection
of dizziness
passes me by.
Maybe I need
a slew of
your strength,
a savior–

and
you have
your hope
your determination,
the color of
blood red wine,
just on the
cusp of victory.

The answer was
always there
if I just
opened
my eyes
and looked.

 

_____________________________

Photograph: Lanaya

@writing.for.the.calm

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The Promise

I walk into the day
Wearing hope as my sweater
Allowing the sun to feed my soul
Promising myself that today

I would set myself free

I walk into the day
With you by my side
Laughing away the pain
Promising ourselves that today

We would set ourselves free

I walk into the day
Surrounded by smiles
Existing uncomfortably in the crowd
Watching as they promise themselves that today

They would set themselves free

I walk out of the day
Surrounded by bitterness
Barely surviving in the crowd
Watching as they promise themselves that tomorrow

They will set themselves free

I walk out of the day
You’re no longer by my side
Saying goodbye forever
Promising ourselves that tomorrow

We will set ourselves free

I walk out of the day
Hope is nowhere to be found
Darkness invading my soul
Promising myself that tomorrow

I will set myself free

 

 

_____________________________________

Photography: Lanaya

@writing.for.the.calm

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Blessing or Lesson

More often than not we let ourselves be surrounded by negativity. And things keep going wrong and we believe it’s wrong and unfair and we feed the cycle till we’re buried underneath it all.

After a while, we stop asking if that’s how it should be. And then we forget how it all started. We are forever lost in the darkness inside ourselves that was originated elsewhere but placed there. And we believe we deserve it. And we believe it’s our own damn fault. And it is. And it’s not. It is because we let it grow and take over. It’s not because we are not responsible for the environment we live in.

Continue reading Blessing or Lesson

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A Walk Behind My Heart

I walked behind
my heart,
Covered up to the thighs
in its rivers,

freezing from the chill
that it became since 
life served it grief
beyond winters,

only seeing
the calm of blood that 
passed the rest of my 
body on the inside.

we learned to flow
together,
to search for ourselves
On the walls & floors 
of my flesh,
 Continue reading A Walk Behind My Heart