This poem is dedicated to the young, talented, and real artist, Roderice Cardell or as many know him as— The Maddd Artist. He was the guest speaker at my vigil in honor of Breonna Taylor this past October. The energy and vision he brought to the scene was more than lively. It was as if he knew exactly how important this event was to me in my heart without needing to know my story. He spoke from the heart and had a delightful energy. I'm sad to know that he's gone but I know his light and vision are still here. I know that he would've wanted me to create regardless of how mad I am at the world right now. I will never forget him and will continue to dedicate my heart to creating. Thank you, Mr. Cardell True to the Soil,
True to the Street. Rose from the concrete Hope ain't for the future, It needs to happen now. The paranoia I speak of struck his spirit, Imma need you to hear it. Hopeless Feats—Fear It. Don't play yourselves with the master's tools. You're more than a statistic or society's fool. You have soul and flow, The streets are colors songs stories dances All for you to perform. Get maddd and fight the canvas. Paint the odds against you. Use your anger as fuel, break the path set before you.
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The Identity Diary is about amplifying a variety of narratives regarding race, gender, and allyship. Whether the work was emotional or literal, it was featured because of its honesty and quality. There editorial essays, poems, and our title spread is an ensemble created from three different interviews of three different identities. Please check it out and share with friends! You can purchase the PDF version here: https://payhip.com/YasmintheWriter
I sweat oil and nectar
The breeze that tracks my steps is graced with the scent of honey and daisies. My lips are tinted in the hue of roses and shimmer like stars. History has left my bloodline with unseen scars, regardless, I'm a Goddess. My eyes remind you of amber’s glow when the sun’s beams strike its surface. My almond skin can never be touched in a single place. Its silky edges make hands cascade all over. As a wife of the Sun, it's only natural for my brothers to look blue in the moonlight. Whether I’m perfect or not to you doesn’t matter; my self love is resilient despite your efforts to break it into a shatter. I love my phenomenal womxnly traits and my goddess pose. You can't steal the glory that sprouts from my scalp. Only a goddess of my degree has this element of freedom, You can call it magic but I'm letting you know, you can't have it. (I was Anointed to be real, what else can I be?) After being cleansed in the creek of youth, I see the truth. I am pure, I am light, I am a womxn with third eye sight. Dreaming a life in color Living like no other I am beyond making love under the covers, I am the world you see and the dust of time. Everything is Everything until it's all over. Now please, don't disrespect my shine. Where I’m from, We pray at sunset and hope we don’t get pulled over. Where I’m from, The youth self-medicate to eliminate self-hate. Where I’m from, The system leaves the body and takes the mind. Where I’m from, It’s easier to find a gun than it is to find a fucking parking spot. They don’t care if it’s dark or not, If black is in your skin, They rebuke you like a sin. Where I’m from, They take your peace of mind then ask for a piece of mine. On the outside, they smile so big, so kind.
“I can’t breathe.” …. “That’s not enough.” Help me find my lonely.
Breathe life back into the death of hope. Open my eyes to see the light. Guide the way of my feet as we dance away the pain the world causes us to feel. Forgive my mistakes and kiss the wounds I earned from the past. You are no longer a man defined by his actions rooted with evil. You are no longer the monster that you have convinced the world of being. You are no longer poisoned with mistakes or hate. Love has cured you. Love has made your presence eternal. Forever in my heart and memories. Never fading with the waves of time. This love letter is not meant to awaken the smile locked within your spirit. However it is here to encourage whoever is reading this to know love is not just an emotion. It is a legacy that lingers after death does us part Through sharp breaths, orange dust gripped the sidings of my nostrils. My feet stomped the world as I ran down my winding path. I chased the sunset until its rising followed my steps. I guess my devotion brought it to its knees. How could the sun escape from me? Maybe my eyes were shut too tightly for me to find its staircase behind the hills. Despite this baiting insanity, faith uprooted my soul from its darkness to find where the sun hides.
Before I reached the summit of the hill, she appeared. Past her tears, her eyes resembled mirrors of a fun house; she was endlessly deluded by what was in front of her. Along the hump of the hill, her body was centered within her auburn orange dress. Her fine black hair cavorted against the wind. Like leaves drifting from a tree, her hands fell from beneath her eyes. I approached her. With blood-shot, topaz eyes, she glared at me. It was unusual. Although the fear of the unknown was lingering within my soul, I felt an energy pulling me towards her. Like magic, her memories fell upon me as I got closer. I felt the paint strokes of melanin that created her sweep my skin. I tasted the frozen lips that she once kissed on those salad days. Silently, I sat beside her listening to her memories tell me the story of her tears. I was submerged underneath her emotions through this sensory entanglement. “I felt your energy on my way up here,” I told her. “I know. I wanted you to find me,” she said looking over the hill as the sun melted its orange layers onto the field. “What do you mean by that?,” my heart leaped from its cage. “I know you’re the boy who chased the sunset until it followed you in its rising. I have a way with emotions.” Her finger traced the trail of a tear on her face, suddenly, my eyes became heavy. My throat thickened. Meanwhile, my face was flushed with the color of sweet pink roses. Uncontrollably, I was weeping. I thought Pathoists didn’t exist anymore...how can she make feel what she feels? “I see. I tend to find home in my emotions myself.” As the honeybees traveled from flower to flower, she faced me. She was marvel to gaze at. The wind settled down causing her hair to cascade off of her shoulders. “Now that I gave you my memories, don’t see you how broken love made me?” “Who’s to say? No matter what happens in love, no one leaves without a scar.” Without caution, the girl pierced the ground with her nails and ripped some flowers from it. She was no longer sentimental. She shouted,“you don’t get it! How don’t you understand what I’ve been through?!” “Same eyes, different souls, I guess,” I said shakely. I was filled to the top with fear but, it was nothing more than her lacking comprehension of her emotions. In a single breath, the day turned to night. The moonlight coruscated on her tears. She hasn’t realized how to boy she longed for might’ve been too young for love. Her thoughts crystallized to jaded inquiries; she wanted the truth. “Tell me why you chase the sun. It leaves from your grasp and goes behind the hill everyday. It’s an unrequited mystery, is it not?” Suddenly, her doubt seeped into my faith. My rapture of seeing the sun couldn’t retain into my mind like sand spilling from my fingers. I couldn’t bare to let my dream to go unheard simply because of a Pathoist’s doubts reaching my spirit. “I chase the sun because of love. My greed for it graces my body with a fervent desire to run to it without expectations. Though my memories of it escaping me remain, my love for the sun is everlasting and comes without conditions.” Slowly, the doubt that pierced my chest was alleviated. “I imagine that’s what love is supposed to be like,” her head swung back, hitting the lush grass, “consider this; if you were a river and the sun was still the sun, would your fondness of coming to it everyday remain? Rivers run from east to west, west to south, touching the same current twice is impossible. No matter what, the river runs from the sun to never return.” Her words simmered in my ears while a depressing vision developed behind my eyes. There she stood, transfixed and breathless. Her past love scraped a single tear against his cheek before grabbing his green corduroy jacket. Before her ex left, he sighed and said, “I’m sorry that I have to break your heart. Just know my heart will always beat for you, you better believe that.” After the memory was complete, I returned to reality. Living as a boy who has never loved a girl, acknowledging someone else who loves a girl isn’t too hard. Straightaway, I knew what to say. “You got it all wrong. The river has never left the sun. No matter where the river flows, the sun will always be with the river. Your past love--” “I still love him,” her eyes were closed with her hand laying across her chest. Never has the sound of a broken heart sounded so romantic to me. “The boy you love will always love you despite the changes he may go through. His love was not enough to keep you happy. He wants the best for you. This doesn’t mean he was right to break his promise but, I don’t think you should cry over a love that was never lost.” For a moment, there was silence. The stars watched me hold this stranger’s had while she cried her last few tears. Her head rolled over to my side, “thank you. It’s hard to accept that the life we planned was destroyed by the creators of it.” I started gathering some dandelions and sweet pea flowers. I scattered them where we laid. “Don’t chase the idea of love.” “Don’t chase the sun,” she smirked, “will we meet again?” I lifted her chin with my thumb to greet her with a smile. “Just send me your feelings and I’ll hold your heart and secrets.” Her iridescent topaz eyes batted at me while I resumed my journey down the hill to find the sleeping sun. To be a humming bird or stinging bee:
My wings beating faster than the heart in breast. The adventure I seek, The sunshine landing on my beak, An experience so divine and unique. The Unknown is real The Known is synthetic (Cursed to Not Forget It). The novelty of freedom A king, a bohomemian, a runt All within the minds of what we cannot want. I am still dreaming What is it like to be a hummingbird? Or maybe a bee? Good night, sweet mind, Good night, infinite time. Sleep with wonders in your heart Find the morning sun as you have an affair with the dark. Hours before the first blush of day,
the distance between us waned with every lyrical word expressed through the phone. Never have I been so smitten. I insist, you hung the moon and the stars. Each time I hear your voice--modesty, please accept my endearing stanzas-- I become more involved in our affair. The honey-colored moon with wispy clouds will soon be our neighbors when we live West of the Moon and East of the Sun. My wishful foresight may be ambitious and desirous of being able to turn to you as I write, but it doesn't mean I'm lonely as we speak. The roads between us, in essence, reshape themselves to be the floor in which we share. Being apart only allows our spirits to wrap themselves with ignorance. The idea of distance becoming a hardship is an absent thought. I'll leave a vacancy in my room until your voice encompasses my solitude. You guys may know me as Yasmin the Writer but, I also host my own radio show, Cactus Radio. It's a quick show with fresh alternative music; check it out, please.
This restless spirit is beyond its shell of organs,
beyond the four walls containing its shell, beyond the entrance of the room's keeper. The only certainty of direction was the guiding light on the handlebars as the wheels sustaining the rhythm of her heart. The purpose of plans become superfluous to the liberation of adventure. The wind, a friend, blows her hair beyond the eyes keeping her focused on her spontaneous affair with the night. Her bare feet, an enabler, become enticed by the warmth of blood gushing throughout their surface with every twist and turn. The stars will become a witness to the path that unfolds as the story is told. She wasn't lost; she just couldn't find her way home. As fearful as the danger was, she knew that she had to pedal uphill to cruise. Through the twilight, she remembered the moon reflects the glow of the Sun's return (a promise). As if it was a wish, her insanity transformed into serenity. |