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  • A famous picture of Johnny cash just before his first performance at Folsom prison. Thought to be a joke by the guards.
  • A famous picture of Johnny cash just before his first performance at Folsom prison. Thought to be a joke by the guards.
  • 0 1 17 hours ago
  • I have been afraid of lesser things -
things like 
just breathing 
like
believing everything is going to be ok
like
trusting anybody

I’ve been afraid of 
my own heartbeat,
my own body,
my own fingertips 
as they reach out for life,
of 
every sensory receptor 
that can feel the sunlight 
and 
fresh breeze 
and 
human touch

I’ve been afraid of 
being outside on a hot summer’s day
of
not leaving the house
of
saying the wrong thing,
moving the wrong way,
living the wrong life
and
blinking my eyes too often
during eye contact

and yet the sun never gives up trying 
to lure me outside 
to bask
and breathe
and feel
despite being afraid of feeling 
warmth 
and life
and pain

I have been afraid 
but I have also been brave

I have been brave when
my heart has broken into pieces,
brave enough to break down
into a puddle on the ground 
a puddle that didn’t look so brave at all

I have been brave when 
my secrets were revealed,
bravely feeling ashamed, humiliated & raw
in the limelight 
until self-acceptance was the only option

I have been brave every time
loneliness has crept up like a grim reaper,
bravely tucking myself in at night,
whispering sweet I love you’s to my own heart
and somehow falling asleep

I have been brave,
breathing,
heart-beating,
feeling all my feelings

I have been afraid of lesser things
but I have also been brave
  • I have been afraid of lesser things -
    things like
    just breathing
    like
    believing everything is going to be ok
    like
    trusting anybody

    I’ve been afraid of
    my own heartbeat,
    my own body,
    my own fingertips
    as they reach out for life,
    of
    every sensory receptor
    that can feel the sunlight
    and
    fresh breeze
    and
    human touch

    I’ve been afraid of
    being outside on a hot summer’s day
    of
    not leaving the house
    of
    saying the wrong thing,
    moving the wrong way,
    living the wrong life
    and
    blinking my eyes too often
    during eye contact

    and yet the sun never gives up trying
    to lure me outside
    to bask
    and breathe
    and feel
    despite being afraid of feeling
    warmth
    and life
    and pain

    I have been afraid
    but I have also been brave

    I have been brave when
    my heart has broken into pieces,
    brave enough to break down
    into a puddle on the ground
    a puddle that didn’t look so brave at all

    I have been brave when
    my secrets were revealed,
    bravely feeling ashamed, humiliated & raw
    in the limelight
    until self-acceptance was the only option

    I have been brave every time
    loneliness has crept up like a grim reaper,
    bravely tucking myself in at night,
    whispering sweet I love you’s to my own heart
    and somehow falling asleep

    I have been brave,
    breathing,
    heart-beating,
    feeling all my feelings

    I have been afraid of lesser things
    but I have also been brave
  • 1 1 17 hours ago
  • I woke up to a 100 years of Solitude sleeping by my side when I tripped upon the boothill of his voice again.
 Dylan sang Mr. Tambourine man and the lost one smoked in the jingle jangle morning again.
 I followed him into the naked laughter and a tear ran through my cheek. The lost one silhouetted against last night’s sorrowing. A morning promise and I wonder the afternoon scene.
 We talked of the Beatniks again and the heart abused my reminiscing brain wishing it was foolish again.
 That of a child’s he held my cheeks tight on the day he cooked bacon and licked mayonnaise in the blind apartment before he kissed me.
My hands are too cold to shake. My eyes too dry to weep. The full stops at the end of his sentences scare me to death, still.
 One hand on the cigarette and one hand on pencil, the lost one sketched Mr. Tea man and took me to the old times when colors swung from the sun. It’s all a ragged rough looking day with layers of dreaming skies wandering deep in the desert.
 I played his voice once more and once more till he took me disappearing into the sleepy beach to wake me up full and furled again.
 I woke up again to the lost one who is lost. There is no place he’s going with me. There is no music he’s composing with me. There is no poetry he’s reading with me. No possessive lovers, no assassin’s dreams, no Pink Floyd ‘saucers to the soul’ when the mind’s blank tomorrow. My weariness fascinates me. The child has grown. The fences are closed. His dreams are asleep. My dreams are gone.
—Urmi
  • I woke up to a 100 years of Solitude sleeping by my side when I tripped upon the boothill of his voice again.
    Dylan sang Mr. Tambourine man and the lost one smoked in the jingle jangle morning again.
    I followed him into the naked laughter and a tear ran through my cheek. The lost one silhouetted against last night’s sorrowing. A morning promise and I wonder the afternoon scene.
    We talked of the Beatniks again and the heart abused my reminiscing brain wishing it was foolish again.
    That of a child’s he held my cheeks tight on the day he cooked bacon and licked mayonnaise in the blind apartment before he kissed me.
    My hands are too cold to shake. My eyes too dry to weep. The full stops at the end of his sentences scare me to death, still.
    One hand on the cigarette and one hand on pencil, the lost one sketched Mr. Tea man and took me to the old times when colors swung from the sun. It’s all a ragged rough looking day with layers of dreaming skies wandering deep in the desert.
    I played his voice once more and once more till he took me disappearing into the sleepy beach to wake me up full and furled again.
    I woke up again to the lost one who is lost. There is no place he’s going with me. There is no music he’s composing with me. There is no poetry he’s reading with me. No possessive lovers, no assassin’s dreams, no Pink Floyd ‘saucers to the soul’ when the mind’s blank tomorrow. My weariness fascinates me. The child has grown. The fences are closed. His dreams are asleep. My dreams are gone.
    —Urmi
  • 9 5 17 hours ago
  • Heart Hums About Him (5/9)
  • Heart Hums About Him (5/9)
  • 6 1 18 hours ago
  • ✨I think this may be one of my greatest fears because I know I could never replace you ✨
  • ✨I think this may be one of my greatest fears because I know I could never replace you ✨
  • 1 1 18 hours ago
  • Heii everyone I would love it if you guys would purchase my book. I am a new author and just recently published my poetry book  http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/WhitneyG7 
Follow this link to the book and here's a bit of a preview (one of the poems in the book) to get a feel of my poetry style.
.
**Sitting in Self Possession**
.
Typical night,

But the best time to let go and unwind. 
Hard day, shit , hard week.

Down in the dark on my couch 
I let the thoughts rattle through my head of past dues done and I slump.

Navy blue drapes drawn back shows the waxing crescents shine, and only light that glows in my room, 
and the natural beam settles over me like a spotlight. 
In one hand there's a glass of wet satisfaction, sweet icy brewed pouring down and dripping off my lips,

Let me sip.

In the other a gift, tightly wrapped solely for myself in an attempt to drown out and relax me from head to toe, sits in the air waiting.

Solitude holding me making me feel secure in its grasp falls in love with me and I in it every second we spend together, and I rest my head back receiving all the feels.

Pulling,

inhaling in all the goodness, 
my lungs catching,

Greatness appears as I remind myself of accomplishments I don't really think about during the day,

Strengths that don't catch my thoughts due to obstruction,

and my name, a permanent stamp and

one of the things that defines me and all affirmative notions of what I am.

Lifted to such heights I can see everything in its entirety from my space and show appreciation.

Me in this lonely brings a new meaning to tranquility.
.
#poetrycommunity #femalepoets #poemsporn_ #poemsofinstagram #wattpad #buttonpoetry #femaleauthors #femaleentrepreneur #blackfemaleartist #blackfemalewriters #blackfemaleauthors #spilledink @buttonpoetry #poesia #poetryaccount #poetrylovers #poetryislife #poetryslam #stories #storytellers
  • Heii everyone I would love it if you guys would purchase my book. I am a new author and just recently published my poetry book http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/WhitneyG7
    Follow this link to the book and here's a bit of a preview (one of the poems in the book) to get a feel of my poetry style.
    .
    **Sitting in Self Possession**
    .
    Typical night,

    But the best time to let go and unwind.
    Hard day, shit , hard week.

    Down in the dark on my couch
    I let the thoughts rattle through my head of past dues done and I slump.

    Navy blue drapes drawn back shows the waxing crescents shine, and only light that glows in my room,
    and the natural beam settles over me like a spotlight.
    In one hand there's a glass of wet satisfaction, sweet icy brewed pouring down and dripping off my lips,

    Let me sip.

    In the other a gift, tightly wrapped solely for myself in an attempt to drown out and relax me from head to toe, sits in the air waiting.

    Solitude holding me making me feel secure in its grasp falls in love with me and I in it every second we spend together, and I rest my head back receiving all the feels.

    Pulling,

    inhaling in all the goodness,
    my lungs catching,

    Greatness appears as I remind myself of accomplishments I don't really think about during the day,

    Strengths that don't catch my thoughts due to obstruction,

    and my name, a permanent stamp and

    one of the things that defines me and all affirmative notions of what I am.

    Lifted to such heights I can see everything in its entirety from my space and show appreciation.

    Me in this lonely brings a new meaning to tranquility.
    .
    #poetrycommunity #femalepoets #poemsporn_ #poemsofinstagram #wattpad #buttonpoetry #femaleauthors #femaleentrepreneur #blackfemaleartist #blackfemalewriters #blackfemaleauthors #spilledink @buttonpoetry #poesia #poetryaccount #poetrylovers #poetryislife #poetryslam #stories #storytellers
  • 3 0 19 hours ago
  • 16.11.2019 // I’m forgoing this. 🖤✨
  • 16.11.2019 // I’m forgoing this. 🖤✨
  • 353 3 19 hours ago
  • Maybe it is.
  • Maybe it is.
  • 23 2 19 hours ago
  • 🥀 Wow 11/15/19 8:21 pm
  • 🥀 Wow 11/15/19 8:21 pm
  • 8 1 20 hours ago
  • I am always questioning about our existence. It's either a total coincidence or absolutely magic. 
So what are you doing with your life? I want to know; I am curious about how people choose to live their lives.
  • I am always questioning about our existence. It's either a total coincidence or absolutely magic.
    So what are you doing with your life? I want to know; I am curious about how people choose to live their lives.
  • 20 1 20 hours ago
  • You can be dishonest without uttering a single lie. .
.
.
You can be dishonest if you leave someone to believe something that you know isn’t true.
.
You can be dishonest if you give someone the wrong idea .
.
You can be dishonest if you don’t state important things clearly .
.
You can be dishonest if you act in a way that goes against a behavior you conveyed at some point you had .
.
You can be dishonest if you avoid answering questions instead of lying. .
.
.
Perhaps the sickest thing of all is if you do these things and are still convinced of your honesty simply because you didn’t “technically lie”. Just 🙅🏽‍♀️
  • You can be dishonest without uttering a single lie. .
    .
    .
    You can be dishonest if you leave someone to believe something that you know isn’t true.
    .
    You can be dishonest if you give someone the wrong idea .
    .
    You can be dishonest if you don’t state important things clearly .
    .
    You can be dishonest if you act in a way that goes against a behavior you conveyed at some point you had .
    .
    You can be dishonest if you avoid answering questions instead of lying. .
    .
    .
    Perhaps the sickest thing of all is if you do these things and are still convinced of your honesty simply because you didn’t “technically lie”. Just 🙅🏽‍♀️
  • 6 2 20 hours ago
  • you made me carry the weight of the guilt you harbored
because you couldn't stand to confront what you were doing to me
______________________
excerpt from Phoenix: poetry and prose by Feral Kenyon ( @feralblacksheep )

Order your copy today!
eBook: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07WJWV5YX
Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1689698721
_______________________
Art: Daria Endresen - Blót
  • you made me carry the weight of the guilt you harbored
    because you couldn't stand to confront what you were doing to me
    ______________________
    excerpt from Phoenix: poetry and prose by Feral Kenyon ( @feralblacksheep )

    Order your copy today!
    eBook: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07WJWV5YX
    Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1689698721
    _______________________
    Art: Daria Endresen - Blót
  • 6 1 20 hours ago
  • 🥀 11/15/19 10:07 am
  • 🥀 11/15/19 10:07 am
  • 48 1 15 November, 2019