The Guards: a Poem

It’s like I’m in a prison
and they are the guards
fear racing thru each of our hearts
silently watchful or totally neglectful
either way, it’s totally not fucking helpful
need to escape
but no opportunities come my way
stuck in all this ancestoral pain
just praying for the light
to shine on me one day … ☀️

But I also feel guilty
spewing all this negativity
but the life I’ve had
it’s been very damaging
with the way you chose
to handle and manage me
I need acknowledgement
and I need my sanity;
I need a new path
to be laid out in front of me
just praying again
for fortune
to favour honesty

it’s all a part of it: a Poem

The confusion & uncertainty
the things that bring you to your knees
when we’re clueless of the ends we seek
when we feel our joy’s just out of reach…

it’s all a part of it

when we finally see what we can change
find optimism for better days
and then the worst thing ever comes our way…
and it’s hard to find that light again

it’s all a part of it

when we fail & faulter so many times
when we go back on our most encouraging rhymes
and we can’t find anything new to write…

it’s all a part of it

and when we’re finally nearing the goals end
and we find ourselves in doubt again
and still, your wildest dreams come crashing in…

you’ve fucking earned it💪
and it’s all been a part of it💖

Addict Over Artistry: 2 Poems

I never smoked heroin
but always related to heroin addicts
their thoughts; their goals = drugs
when I learned of needle fixation
seeing that lust in their eyes
that felt like me, with my chosen scene
when you’ve grown up in mediocrity
(music the only other thing I found inspiring,
but discouraged from pursuing…)
when drugs cross your path
it takes you right up and above the stars
and once you know, letting go of it is hard
and for over 10 years I continued on that path
chasing good feelings instead of working hard
on musical and artistic dreams;
not saying fuck you to those doubting me;
not dismissing that crucial lie told to me:
that just ‘cuz I wasn’t some
“incredible artistic child prodigy”
that I could never amount to anything…

~

Since discouraged in artistry
drugs were a great alternative
to spend the time, to feel that high,
by just drinking, smoking or bombing life
but I bet that it don’t feel so nice
if you get to old age,
with nothing to show,
but endless parades,
of booze, weed
and crystal dreams;
the artistry staying underneath
and what perhaps you could have been
is now only a passing memory…