Tag Archives: Goddess

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

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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