no no no
all i hear is screams
the knife
the bat
the gun
lay on the table
all i think of is the screaming
the knife thrust to the stomach
ripping, tearing
the swung to the torso
breaking, crushing
the gun shot
blood blood is on your hands
he slowly leans to the side
breathing his last breaths
my nightmares haunt
make them stop
it wasn’t me
please
Silence makes her moans more prevalent in my mind.
Her past time filled with filth.
Aborted wombs, tombs I lie in called home.
Her moan a pop record played on repeat.
Niggerdly I dance to the beat.
Niggerdly I dance to the beat.
Niggerdly I dance to the beat.
–Yannick C. Wallace
You gunna help me out
I ont want no trouble
Juss trynna get by
You knoe.
Change?
“Oh honey
you need a stool
They shouldn’t be making you stand
this long. Mhm, get you a stool”
A voice with
a curved back
that seemed to reach from her tiny shoes
and almost back to the floor again
said grinning
A red cloak and old, powdered brown face
Adorable, right?
“Yo, she just stole from the store”
What?
Right.
Adorable
There’s a deep murmur unravelled,
the air is a song of feather,
a soft babble of grass.
There’s a memory of heaven revived,
hum of life and plea.
There’s this need, like a baby’s, to be loved.
–Aline Patterson
It hurts, the things of old,
attachment to the things of old.
Let go of them,
let them go as they are,
from afar comes the sound of
the scissors of the rag-picker.
–Kim Chiha
I haven’t penned. even now i miss poetry.
the need, its solace, the release.
Where did it go. is a poet’s pen whose has not known paper still a poet
Am I?
Good lord girl
What made you think
that we didn’t know
that you know
that we knew
your weave looked fucked up?
i will lay here until days become nights becoming days until you smile at me or until cities crumble into seas
The Poetry Corner 