Tag Archives: Dysfunctional Families

Broken Pedestals

Don’t lose sight of the light.
I close both my eyes, but
Leave the third one open-wide.
Absorbing and Transforming,
Life is a canvas already been painted on; which color will you use to highlight the accents?
How many ways can I contrast the madness?
We are often too busy adding structure to the broken pedestals that once seated those you placed highly.
Deceived if depth can’t be seen without views of the horizon.
Still can’t hear me yelling – only seeing me naked.
This one really speaks to me…
Eye can’t teach them to listen.
Splatter paint like emotion wherever I go.
The world is my canvas. I create in the shadows.
Wash that mask, under that mask, beneath the skin.
Peel the flesh back like old pages.
This book is blank just like the canvas.
Invisible ink disguised as experience.
Squeeze the color out my veins, and witness the light ooze through pores.
Decorating the pews they are glued to.
Stained with the truth not illustrated on the glass.
Looking out the window is living in the past.
Breaking that window is living.
I’m breaking my silence how trees uproot sidewalks.
I belong in the street.
Driving myself crazy, playing hide-n-go-seek with self-identity.
Don’t be lazy.
Chasing my tears to the waterfall of my dreams.
Flowing…
Now I’m glowing..
I stay woke.

-Leighrick

Advertisements

The Last Train, Until…

Picture ya life on the subway –
Labeled a runaway.
Always taught to chase dreams, but catching them was never imagined.
On the train til infinity, where every malfunction exceeds a boundary.
The sky ain’t the limit, its the ticket.
What’s the difference?
I can see beyond the colors of the prism.
I have touched many moons.
Floating – weightless –
Patient.
Healing myself, still doctoring the wounds from when they severed the ties to my portal.
The only home I’ve known, now it just seems as if love don’t live here no more…
So I roam.
Telling the streets my secrets.
Leaving tattoos when I spit the words penetrate the skin.
The concrete cracks.
A Rose emerges.
The train door closes before I even look back…
I pricked myself on the thorns, I wail as the horn sounds…I realize
My overstanding reality is under attack.
-Vigilant Leighrick

Broken Open

Still in a room,
A broken mirror reflects flawless smiles of all those that once stared before it.
Gleaming eyes looking for themselves in fragments of light.
I can’t yet see through.

Walking…
My tears and the street lights create stained glass.
Looking at memories abandoned in pictures, and the pain that is sheltered, buried, and concealed in temples.

Implicitly.

Shattered and now broken open.

I pick up the pieces with the roughest edges first.
I cut myself — countless times.

It hurts not to scream!
As a child you are taught that silence is comforting,
Explicitly a fools gold, a dastardly violence.

The blood has been contaminated with secrecy.
Life’s own mystery;
What good is the knowledge of hystori if the truth never gets told?

Exposed.
Undressing wounds
I see myself in rare form….beautiful….
Vulnerable.

This bigger picture envisioned is actually a puzzle;
we are each others pieces.
There are no borders, filters, nor frames….
Regardless not everyone fits, still you are..

Limitless…

-Leighrick

10947233_10153080716948746_4292457987642403699_n

Forget to Remember

To forget is to remember, because you’re always going to make sure you don’t bring up the forbidden. Then it haunts and taunts you, but it’s not really there; though its ever present. On the other hand, you don’t remember, remember you forgot, about that one time you wished was never made a memory.
Now it’s history, playing the leading roll as the extra that shouts during a silent film. Bothersome, a smile is usually a cure, these thoughts are even more minuscule when I laugh.
What’s on my mind? I’ve told you this story a thousand times, or maybe that was the one about when I was 11. I forgot I promised myself I wouldn’t tell anyone, except the first person I see if I ever made it to Heaven.
I was thinking all of this when I was 7. 13 years later, wait…..what was I just writing about? I realize I’m looking in the mirror — wait….what am I crying about?
This isn’t really considered lying, if no one ever knows the truth. It’s not your apologue to pick and choose a heroine! I do what I feel is best, and from experiences we grow and come to gain knowledge.
At a young age wisdom pierced through my gums trying to break the silence, and instead of removing the pain, I embraced it.
I’ve been a victim of violence, I’ve been a master of persuasion. I’ve sacrificed my self for love and repeatedly been heartbroken by patience.
No medication, only Meditation.
On occasions I sit and reminisce about the memories I forget, write about them, and then burn the pages…..
I sit —
damn, what was I going to say again?

-Leighrick

Curiosity Misery’s Company (09-11-09)

My misery’s curiosity still lies behind these walls.

The yelling and the screaming continues to echo throughout the hallways.

That’s all I’m able to hear.

I don’t think I need glasses anymore, because now I can see straight through people.

Time must be moving quickly, because I feel my hair graying,

My heart aches from the stitches, that aren’t even really mending it back together, there only for show.

My souls still searching for the answers, and the souls of the rest of the lost ones.

They took a piece of me, He snatched the peace from around my neck.

I can only guess my audience is aware of the dramatic irony.

Damn, its been 10 months, and I still cant understand.

The dust has been settled, it has been swept under the rug, but even still this hasn’t become clean to me.

The feelings still linger this just isn’t the place for me to be,

a house is not a home, but I’m just trynna figure out where I’m supposed to be.

Double standards, insecurities, lies, and religion – eventually will become the death of me.

Why did she stop Goliaths hand, what would J–, never mind.

What would you have done in my situation?

He PUSHED and I prayed and still nothing happened.

 Kisses on my forehead could never erase this memory.

I’m just glad to know that I got some people here for me.

I thought it was snowing in hell, when I saw who caused my cell phone to ring.

And now I’m sitting here staring at the ceiling.

 I am Lonely.

 I’m confined to this room, I don’t want to step outside because I feel them watching me.

Cant close my eyes because my brain projects the incident repeatedly upon my eye lids.

I can’t sleep

My stomachs in pain — I can’t eat...

I won’t drink.

I cant think — without hurting & dropping tears left and right.

After this, I don’t think I have any fears, I only live everyday knowing ..

 Fact: People aren’t obligated to you love you.

  -The End.

 –Leighrick

Phone Home

I’m trapped in a box with a cell phone, white walls and a stop sign. I’ve finally caught a signal… I began to phone home. No answer — I guess the answering machine has a mind of its own. Who would have ever thought that the sound of the dial tone, could set the tone for my sickness. I lay flat on my stomach – ill. Until the satellites come correctly into place.

Walls cant cry, windows don’t have arms, and with a mattress full of money still none of it builds a home. I know they seen it coming down my eyes, but I couldn’t feel her text message cry. I peeped it through the mirror, it almost seemed 3D, but not forgetting its reality. I turn over on my back and begin to ponder. Did you see the image you portrayed clearly? I thought at least some of the things I was doing was brand new…

I blink twice, hoping that this is a dream and I’m sailing off in the bay out the double standard cell, cell phone free because my hearts hope isn’t for sale. Transcribing feelings through technology shows no emotion, that goes for the smiley as well… So when that door opened up for me. I grasped the shadows of 3 strong women standing tall….with their hands held out, my future blueprinted. Now I can say that my future at hand will be successful. You’ll miss us when we’re gone…

I float high good bye. I will miss y’all

-Leighrick

The Coldest War

Everyone said life was going to be this hard

However, everyone failed to mention the scars would remain, less obvious than outer appearance.

Daily wearing her heart on her sleeve.

Scabs and keloids protrude from untold her-stories,

 

Belly swollen full of manipulation.

Brain dead,

Unconscious,

Self-conscious —

 

Afraid of self.

 

PAIN

 

A mind is a terrible thing to waste.

Her tongue remedial compared to cat like reflexes.

Her own two sense, something she cant afford.

 

She Wrote.

and so

She Spoke.

 

She becomes family with led and ink.

In-laws of different colors

 

A mind is a terrible thing to waste,

as is her pain,

She Wrote.

 

This lonely child found the comfort in the instruments, the silence, and the trees.

 

All she wrote repeatedly:

 

NO ONE UNDERSTANDS ME!

NO ONE UNDERSTANDS ME!

NO ONE UNDERSTANDS ME!

NO ONE UNDERSTANDS ME!!“…

 

Peers read, what appears?

What is perceived?

 

The agony brought a smile upon her face, because shes discovered one of her many talents

Acting.

 

Just Leave Me.

Leave Her Alone.

 

MEANING

Comfort Me.

 

This little girl is on a scavenger hunt.

She tries to abandon the labels, they hold her back.

She searches for someone to foster her creativity.

She longs for someone to adopt her perception.

Her conscience is an Orphan.

 

This lonely child is lost in all the love.

 

Mouth dry as wood.

Eyes shinning bright like dim lights.

These Pinocchio’s snout would grow

if they deny being puppets too.

 

She just wants to be a real woman.

They hear her speak, but no one

LISTENS.

Judgments are passed along,

accompanied by unconditional love.

Under the conditions of seeing thoroughly, only when they chose not to be

BLIND.

 

so confused.

 

Life is hard, for that she was prepared.

They keeping telling her to explain herself.

But no one understands her language.

She tries to translate it, but motha fuckas are impatient.

 

Feeling like a patient, she nursing her thoughts.

Remember, this poor girl is brain dead.

A mind is a terrible thing to waste

 

So.

The shadow unexpectedly appeared

placed the pen to her temple.

imprinted a hand against her heart,

and pressed her mouth onto hers.

 

She inhaled comprehension and took her first gasp of LIFE.

Tasteless.

 

Nervous.

Excited.

She understands her language, she wrote back to her through thoughts, emotions, and intuition.

She spoke.

The first words for a young adult.

“I Love You”

She grew inside her,wisdom, her tears the waters that bloomed this gracious flower.

 

Everyone told her life was going to be this hard.

She thought her shit would come out softer after the bullshit they fed her,

another fallacy sugar coated.

 

She’s screaming at her

Lullabies sweet and low.

Her honesty

Bittersweet.

 

This Woman is a Solider.

The series of this Coldest War.

 

To be continued…

 

-Leighrick