learn the vibes, taste the difference of sounds that are raw and unique; tough and enthralling– I am pulled into your verses, the timbre of your voice, and how your eyes, are alight with starburst dreams.
Category: Poetry
V
I lost myself in the thralling tides, The mystique of the sands, And the bearded man of Time. Enthralled with legends, ballads and myths About girls with dark eyes And bandits who crave one wish. The twinkling stars told me lies, And the night bled magenta A thick, sweet dye- Promising to fulfill a vendetta, [...]
black is beautiful
melt my uniqueness away, perm my roots, and bleach my skin until no black remains– but don't they know, that my black is beautiful?
A housewife’s plea
Don't you know what this awful, heartrending, heavy feeling is called?Empty, I am empty. A black hole seems almost limited to the expanse of my misery. Ambiguity and mystique seems almost the same to me; I, who am discarded in the drift of time, barely holding on, I rock and pray to a God who [...]
in my presence
he was tall before many but fell short in my presence. A disaster with no quandary, no cursory decelerations by dawn's promiscuous hues, crested as the serpentine trails of tears, shed like skin– flakey and delicate as moths, as ash fell like rain drops as I tipped my head back and laughed.
Mecca-Amirah Jackson 