Category: poems

I never thought I could take this world by storm.

Expressing my life through poetry is like reliving the tragedies written in a rap song.

(So What, I talked about it)

One stanza could free the next person’s heart from a torrential rainstorm.

I never imagined me, giving the world all of my energies. (So What, I talked about it!)

When you open up old wounds, you allow people to throw salt in your cracks;

Their opinions form criticism that you have spoken based on your life’s true facts.

(So What, I talked about it)

I gave up the fears of caring that some people will talk about me behind my back.

So instead I wrote more and explained everything that they thought they knew about me even my unspoken tragedies. (So What, I talked about it!)

I wasn’t ashamed to reveal it.

Just to let you all know

that even though my life seems untouchable;

I’m so unquestionably real.

(So What, I talked about it!)

For you
Anything is possible. I made sure of it.
The way I breathe. The way I think. Is just
For you. The way I scream. The way I cry. The
Way I look love dead in the eyes. Is just for you.
The way I dream. The way I fight. To take away
the struggle from what’s wrong or right. Is just for you.
The way I smile. The way my heart opens up like a canal.
Anything is possible. Its Just for you..

If you allow politeness you may define – some of the spirit of charlston – the fountain of spirit is genuine and allows itself to be heard without being loud. It is a human life experience without the confines of rules that disallow goodness. The people here seem to Know this without hesitation. It’s spread is effectuous – it’s real or it would have melted by now. Charleston is old and crafty and allows those who want its wing of warmth and fortitude to embrace it – it also directs those who may not recognize her at first to love her .
Her winds are sweet her winds heal her winds , help forget , her winds help spread , the pleasant
Reminder of the grandness of life , this wind brushes by all , but touches each . The splendor of such a grand lady is it forgives and gets about the business of life . Two fold is this because it praises the one who gives us each day. Constant pleasant and
Truthful it was given the name the holy city. It rebounds like
No other , and embraces what it is – life ( which is a gift ) the sweetness of its many gifts it gives is praise – and praise is a thankful gift.

You say I dreamed it.
You say I dreamed when he slid his hand up my silhouette.
When he caressed my nipple as he does yours when it’s dark at night.

You say I dreamed seeing the white blur of his shirt crawl on top of me.
And he caressed my carcass.
As I lie there frozen in fear.

Perhaps you say I dreamed it for you’ve dreamed your own life.
You’ve dreamed to forget how your legs spread for boys who could only take you for what you were.
A pleasure tool. A whore without a cause.

But you see,
You and me.
We aren’t so different.
You were once the woman I am.
Chasing the thrill and
seeking the pleasure.
Now you say you’ve grown,
as a flower grows,
peeking above the rest.
You think your perspective is different up there.
You think you’re taller,
more intelligent,
too good to chase
the thrill any longer.

Maybe you’re terrified.
Terrified of what would happen
if that white blur
actually became still.
If what I saw and
what I felt was real.
Then how would that flower change?
Would it cower because
it’s source of power
had blown away in the breeze, carefree,
not owned by its possessor?

Would you wilt,
would you wither
as you appear to do now?
Would you say
I dreamed a dream or that life became too real?


I feel like, in a past life
I was a drummer. And in
another past life I was a
dolphin. And, in between
those two former existences
I was a hexagon that wanted
to be a circle.

I can feel it,
coursing through, within,
like an undercurrent that cannot be sensed,
cannot be caught on radar
unless by casual curiosity:
a blasé desire to consider
the commonality in the
intangible, the metaphysical;
to breathe life into a simple moment,
into a feeling;
to give shape to a sensation:
a vanilla daydream,
an instance of imaginative brevity,
all of which are dealt with
a sort of colloquial reverence.

Soothe my soul like the cool side of the pillow, Like a cool crisp early October morning,Like good news right on time, A feeling that doesn’t have to be explained because we’re on one accord, Like we can afford to waste anymore time,
Ease my mind
Refresh my spirit,
Make me want to live with fervor, Live life with a renewed purpose, Purposely passionately running towards destiny, To a place we have plenty but we aren’t complacent, The moon and stars are our basement as we reach higher together, Arms wrapped around forever like a last first embrace, Too excited to hold on and yet scared to let go,
Ease my mind
Tell me I’m your last first thought,
Tell me I’m needed like air,
Tell me I’m hidden in your purpose,
Tell me I’m your best friend,
Tell me I was a terrible mistake that was so right,
Tell me you are sad when we fight,
Tell me I’m sexy,intelligent,irresistible
Tell me you love me,
And I don’t question it,

Ease my mind

The color of my skin is Despair.
It cries a flooding river.
Screams no words, only feelings.
Feels only pain.
Despair cloakes my eyes and wilts my soul.
Murky dreary gloomy are my home.

I don’t want you to know what I feel inside,
But despite this I want to be reconciled.
Too petrified to talk,
Despair’s language is fear.
What if you don’t like what you hear?

You can’t understand what you haven’t been told.
Dad, no wonder our relationship is so cold.
Scamper off joyful mother, defiance leads the way.
There is no clean air, for I only breathe Despair.

Inside this golden egg,
Isn’t the student you treasure.
Why tarnish when you can shine?
I’m just leaving the real me behind.

Is this why I can’t breathe?
Is this the cause of my anxiety?
Despair forever surrounding me.
Bottomless pit of stomping butterflies,
The more I think about them, the more they multiply.
Not good enough, too skinny, more more more insecurities….


I’m trying something new.
Despair, loosen your hold.
Be honest, girl, be bold.
It’s okay if your truth doesn’t fit into society’s mold.

The strength required
is already within you.
Eradicate Despair forever.

Rainbows paint the golden glistening sky,
The flood is drying up and I can see the sun.
My soul is flourishing.

“Why is my life so full of pain”, he asked?
Boy hush u only nine what you know about sadness?
See now I been out in the rain.. I know about some things.
Like when your mother die and they tell you not to try cry…
Or when your so called husband beat u bc he just floating by yea I seen some things…
I seen the big yellow sun shine so brightly while a friend of mine was being killed so violently.
But ma I don’t mean to cut u off but I go through some things..
Like when my best friend got bruises on his back the one with holes in all 3 slacks.
Or when he come spend the night but really it’s because he don’t have lights..
And I hate it when he don’t eat over the weekend till Monday..
But it’s only because his mother don’t give a fuck and his dad is some whacked out nut..
See ma I been out in the rain…I know about some things…

It’s not always easy

To smile in a crowd

To forgive when it hurts

Or stay quiet when its loud

Quite contrary to popular belief

That a black man could one day be

His family’s guide out of poverty

Oh how I hope that’s me

Unfortunate that it would be

That his best friend would be locked away

It’s been over 2 years now

Since his brother graced the ground of the penitentiary

As for his dreams, they’re somehow coming true

In the mist of his disarray

Level headed, goal oriented but don’t think he’s perfect

Most of us are built that way

But his face reveals the stripes that are

So deeply imprinted on his back

And the tears he cries are the evidence of hurt he feels

When he thinks of loved ones he can’t bring back

Now the only mission left on this side

Is to keep young people awoken

And he knows that he must do this

Even in the midst of being broken

Having thrown the dice and bellied up,
How now do I feel?
Mostly empty,
A heavy stone in my chest,
Doubting many things but one,
I was right.

Not a lot of consolation,
But perhaps a salvation.
Knowing better now
That I can always keep going.
I figure she
Really lost, but don’t
Really know.

I find it doesn’t matter, and
It always matters.
To offer what you have
In innocence and trust,
To risk, to give, even
To lose,
Is to live ever on the edge,
Lungs Full
Of Anticipated Laughter.

Michael Tidwell


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