Why do we always let others turn ourselves into the worse version of ourselves to fit their own prophecy ..

……you don’t have to give them scripture…

You don’t have to provide them verse ….

You don’t have to be evil … you can be good …

Don’t you belive …. You were always better than them ……. Who told you were not worthy … you would always be …. A criminal …

Building bars and sentences .. for yourself

Look at you stepping inside orange jumpsuits

It’s become fluid … like dance ….

It ain’t nothing to you anymore … sin …

Look at you , becoming worse and far from better …

I know that everything that glitters is not always gold … now

I miss you , Glinda good ….. i belive I could be good .. but I am better …. With my feet under houses …you don’t understand to defy gravity .. would to defy physics and fate … and maybe some of us were born villains to make heroes .

I miss you Glinda … I … do .. I could be good … if you defy us gravity .

I like my favorite food , like my favorite humans , I will consume over and again , addict to euphoria , idolizing the flavor , I will share it joys with everyone , but never a piece from my plate … over time It will disappoint me and their is no joy in consuming so much of something only to be let down … I have made a god out of peach O’s and watched it humble me … I have made thrones out of dirt and flesh … and only to be disappointed their is no altar fitting for humans and fleeting circumstances , that show me too much of how they are flesh and dirt , their is no gold in their bones , they will weather like iron in the means of storms .. rust showing all character and nothing becoming …

My body becomes a jungle gym

You climb on me

Knead yourself into

Me

I am placid and jello

The kitchen calls me

My mouth leaves itself open like a fly trap

I wonder if this is what being underground feels like… or sitting on a pedastal and watching mortals .. chose a god … and finding their is no heaven in between legs .. after the light goes out , we are all shadows and gaping mouths .. making gods out of dust ..

Would you even love me , if we created something beautiful and it never saw the light . Would you hold my body or caste me aside , would we turn into blameless faceless and hands full of acusations and no room to bury grief …

Spend evenings laying on coffins and waiting for this to end .. you don’t have to stay anymore … you can run …. And I still hold the bellly and the body … You can deny your body was ever a home … I have no choice to still leave the shutters open and hold the windows and the heartbeat … the faint jolts of laughter …. There was someone here … in me .. standing in mirrors and turning to the side … place hand.. hides shame .. and regret .. I know it all …. Lost and found… I tell her it is not your fault .. I tell her she may try again … and I tell her she will be a a good mother ….

Because on the days when she is longing for baby feet , she will say it’s her fault in the middle of the night when he doesn’t hold her or stay …

When she finds herself craving … to become more than a woman … she must know she can try again …

When she looks at her hands at the doctors with good news … she will doubt .. if she will be good .. she will need to know she is still a mother if she loses it and she will be a good mother …

And when I sit next to her I ask in Spanish … if she would like a hug … I stop in the middle of speaking … and I get nervous I want it to be translated perfectly .. I know how much words mean … I ask him to ask if she consents to a hug … I hug … I speak my Spanish .. it’s broken … it’s grief …. And I become professional .. in the moments … that pull me way to deep into personal … I tell her te amo … becaUse she must know she is loved …

She is loved

She is loved

She is loved

She is still a mother

Even when her body cannot hold a host .

I hate all the versions of me , I was a beggar

Two hands out looking for a sixpence of affection..

i hate all the versions of me that didn’t know better , but should of had known better

I hate all the versions that ever told a man she needed them … as if she didn’t learn how to walk on water … as if she doesn’t have a god , as if she is not a god or scripture .

as if she is not an ancestor … as if shes not holding wisdom in her veins … like lines crossed around her hand ..

for-telling furture

as if body cannot create life and take it back and rebuke … it’s conjuring .

i hate all the versions of me , that become a damaging ecosystem to those who tried to grow inside me

I hate all the versions of me that learned to be breathe in carbon dioxide . That when it got time to breathe in oxygen I didn’t know how to come up for air .

i hate all the versions of me that didn’t recognize I am crown and Nubian . for everytime I held a mirror againist shadows and hated my relfection .

I hate all the versions of me , that insecurity clingers for me like a cloak , a stain , I couldn’t wash .. do You know not your worth ?

i detest the growth process . … but I have adored it’s healing … for girlhood is the constant ripping of thighs and bleeding , becoming male fantasy .. and becoming standard beauty , fidgeting with scale and worth .. womanhood is bleeding and knowing body , love comes in the shape of a woman .. is taking lessons and not letting the damage be lineage …

i will not leave behind a body that Carries stories of women who did not ever learn their lesson …

My notes app is just a collection of words , I don’t have the guts to ever say and a memory list of all the times , I have to remember to do human things .

My notes app , holds all my punches that I never throw .

My notes apps reek of honesty , I an no immortal here …

I cannot pretend to be goddess and heaven ..

I shed god here , you will find no religion here

I am not Enity to be worship

But I can assure you ,

I am an offspring of Eve

I reek of imperfection

It’s the closest I will get to being myself and finding common ground in hiding in between pages …

Of too much truth and honoring lies .. just be a pretender of vulnerability

If my notes app … were read on judgement day , I be beggar of mercy and scripture ..

He says bow down bitches

hes say bow down bitches

he chows down on bitches

doesn’t Respect bitches

calls his girl a bitch

give bitches new stitches

he calls his female dog by her name … calls her Lucy , tells her to sit and roll down for a treat

but the way he treates bitches like they animal

like if Loyalty is a bone , she’d roll over , cause she get a treat

he be nice , he be real nice

shower the blood of her body

after he’s gaven her a good beating

good girl , yes good girl

rams his load into her mouth , says good bitch , good bitches beg

good bitches bark , trade their bed for a kennel , stay between the lines

don’t cross him ,

you know what bitches be bitches

bitches be crazy ,( you know you be acting crazy .. aint you hear him call you baby , he said my baby )

he always nice when you acting like a bitch

good bitches remove the fur from their skin , dont fight back

be like Lucy

His mama is a bitch , but he love his mama , like she ain’t a Bitch

he real sweet on her , like honey .

tried to tell a bitch to bitch , he treat me like a bitch , he treat me like an animal

lucy sitting here liCking his face , I wonder if the way she licks him , licks the evil off him .. thats why he don’t lay a hand on her

she cAught me crying , she barked over my tears ..I wondered was she telling me to shut up or to save me from him hearing

I seen the way bitches turn into bitches ,. At the hand of man

I seen the way bitches … develop misogyny and swallow it down the same windpipe that mutes our voices

I seen the way bitches , mock bitches , for bruises … but offer a no way out

I seen the way bitches with old bruises ,. Mock new bruises on bitches

men are good at taking a woman and turning her into a bitch ..

men bear The fruitage of sexism and plant the seeds into women , write a Bible and name it bitches be bitches

birth a genesis of why women turn the their teeth into kitchens shears

and decide to take a slash at your throat with vulgar verbs … he will provoke the wolf … and tell her to calm down her alpha all in name of bitches be bitches

Before I am woman , I am black

Before I am woman , I am black

Before I create the metaphor and perform poetry , you will hear how I am black that is how I am Treated like black , talk like nigga

But I am not your nigger

So I will not white wash my verbs and adjectives to not offend

I talk like dead came crawling out my skin

I Part the Red Sea and show you the bones of my people buried in my vernacular

I talk like twine stuck in my teeth , from all the times my people bite down on the whip … and let blood swim down their backs into haystacks and straw

I am not built for dead white man poetry

I speak like Porsha olaywiola , jasmine mans , Cynthia valentine , rudy Francisco

But if you listen carefully , I sing hymns like maya angelou , I took the pain , tell it the way I talk

Make a choir , believe in a god , ask him where is his mercy , where does justice go when it not served ?

Their is no way , he needs that many black angels ,

If he is not building army , to correct history

Or does he know we are walking statistics and picks us off the concrete … so their is somewhere safe for us to lay our head

I was told I speak with so much anger , I don’t vist anger … but I walk with grief … and heart full of passion

So when I beat on my chest when I spit on the mic , crack open my wrist and show you were I can feel the rattle of chains , ready to slip around these colored hands. I speak , while I still got time to tell our stories .. before they erase our history …

I want to teach my history … before I become a haunting , a concrete angel …

I was told , by someone they write to escape the world .. ( it must be nice … to out run your imagination , like milk drunk nightmares, that can put you too sleep … when the midnight shivers .. ) I dance with the reaper … he knows my footsteps… can be a “misunderstanding” in the dark night … with a neighborhood watch that thinks he some kind of spider man .. I think it’s funny , how that pen of yours allows you to escape …

I think how I can’t outrun my shadows and my skin color … both are black …

This world is afraid of both …. So how can I pretend to do both , dream and honor nightmares … that are known to become reality’s

My poetry be black , my poetry talk back , this poet is black .. ..

…

Smile girl 

He says smile girl 

He says pretty girls smile with their mouth wide 

So I smile 

With my talons 

Showing 

Just in case 

He’s tries to 

Bite the monster out of me 

Let him know I am A wolf 

I will howl 

Until the whole neighborhood hears me 

I got blood on my teeth from smiling so wide 

Pulling back my jaw 

Doing as I am told 

You know what happens 

To pretty girls 

Who don't smile 

At midnight men 

They end up disappearing 

In the middle of the night 

I just need to go home 

So I give him a smile

“ He says pretty girls smile with their mouth wide “ 

But inside I feel so ugly 

I wonder how many teeth he has collected from the girls who didnt  smile back at him 

if you guys could spend a moment of your time and read my piece and cast your vote , I am really proud of this piece and the way it came out , I hope You enjoy it as much as I do , the contest ends February 26 you win by votes , the Link is down below , just copy and paste into the search bar and it will take you to my piece

Voting for some reason is still.opened through the 28

https://woobox.com/fzybjc/gallery/ISE3DEnQWMk

Poetry link for contest

Heartbreak had me kissing other people to get over you

I fell in love with too many ghost of you

I became a haunted house

Too spook

With the thought of start over

Too afraid of cobwebs of memories

That were

Edited to

Not see

The brokenness in every glass you shatter

Inside of me

I tried to turn your spells into lyrics

Thinking

I could

Pull you from the graves of

Under tow

And resurrect all the good moments

And leave all the darkness

And anger

Buried in coffins of scrapbooks

And I be lying if I didn’t bend over bodies

And try to resurrect

You through them

Searching for

Someone like you

See lips

Are the same on every body

But they all smelled like charcoal

And empty catacombs

That lack substance

just walking Cadviers

I became a coroner

Them asking

Why did I our love die

So fast

I can’t bring myself

To say

You

Ever tried to love a dead thing back to life .....

Mourning you

Was like loving you in every person I fell for

and you are dead to me love