Poetry (The Raconteur)...Happy birthday.

I fell in love with you at age 6,

The very night I looked up at the sky and saw the beauty of the stars.

That very night,

I penned down the most beautiful thing then in my eyes,

Created by one of the greats, Celine Dion.

Every night in my dreams,

I see you, I feel you.

How beautiful you were and still are,

How beautiful you make expressions come to life,

How beautiful you …

Wait,

You know I can go on and on to tell you how beautiful you are but still wouldn't find the right expression to tell you how beautiful you are.

You know you're my saving grace,

You know you changed my suicidal thoughts the very day I penned down The Poem from my last collection of art.

It felt like the Holy Grail.

I remember the first day I expressed my art when I was 16,

It felt beautiful,

Then I realised how powerful words are,

Then I thought about how bad my dad must have abused my mom and that shit turned me into a real sicko.

But Solace I found in you on my pursuit of happiness,

Hopes and dreams you sold to me for my talent,

Hopes, dreams and reality you sold to me for my art.

I am Scripturient,

You are,

Poetry.

Comments

1AM

It's 1AM, As I think back 5 hours ago, Watching grown folks indulge in the idea of marriage. Such a beautiful thing when its true essence is given, However the case, The reverse isn't the same. I felt like a bird on a mountain top, Looking down with a vision of that of an eagle trying to see what I can get from it. I listened as they rambled about adult jokes. A soothsayer wasn't needed as the drift in class could be told. The song on the radio is sung along by a wife, With lyrics that seem to shred fragments of the heart. A beautiful voice but with emotion and pain littered around it. The rest said their good nights to their spouse over the phone. Standing over on my balcony as the clock is 17 minutes away from hitting 1AM, Lonely as hell, But somehow I find confidence and comfort when I seldom let my thoughts run loose, Days when they are controlled, I seem to run low on the double C. My heart seems like an uncaged beas

Untitled.

See every time we went out, Everyone noticed you and kept me at bay, Like I wasn't there. I hate when it happens. I know you're well known across these lands And I'm just a foreigner, On Strangers tide. Often time, I'll play the buster girl, Doing the who is? Call me crazy, Call me jealous, I call me greedy, But all I wanted was, The strings of our heartbeat in perfect accordance, To an unheard melody. All of you, And all that was in your heart was my desire, Felt like it was too much to ask. I know I had gone astray, And I needed a second chance. Who doesn’t? It looked hard, everything was against me, Even my own shadow was. The face I thought that shinned brightest, Couldn't create a spark during my dark times. Guess I figured why I was mostly kept at bay, Just a little too late. We were untitled.

December 6th (The Raconteur)

Words can't basically describe how this day ended, It felt like roll camera and action whereas it wasn't scripted. We all didn't come to this world to enjoy the fancy things, were her exact words repeatedly. It felt like a familiar stranger talking to you, Indirectly telling you your worries and giving you the solutions to them at the same time. It felt like a messenger from God, Similar to the ones we read about in the Holy Book. I felt bottled in her ideology but I wasn't too deep in it. She said, We are God-like, since we are made in his Imagine, And each and everyone of us has a purpose on earth, Depends on if we actually want to fulfill that purpose and if we say we don't wanna do it, The Most High has replacements in abundance. It's pretty much you could be part of the greats but you really aren't relevant. The human form is weak, Even Jesus Christ couldn't bear it anymore whilst on earth, "Father l

Devante

Search This Blog