Black Poetry : Hurting for Love

cherellé

Member
REGISTERED MEMBER
Dec 19, 2013
22
19
South Carolina
Occupation
Nursing Assistant
When I'm hurting I hear voices and I swallow the pain to conjour thoughts that once relished in happiness through Joys I was never given.
A mark is what I want to leave, but I find my deeds erased and replaced with someones antagonizing. gestures and hateful ways.
There is no peace in a tortured soul.
No tears in an alarming place.
The fight is always your right to live
and your suffering is yours to feel. yours to keep.
yours to show and yours to hide.
If being a woman were so easy I'd be me, but I stand there cradiling there blows like a child I'd never leave.
praying that one day it will go away,
but it will never be a truth
that I can say I went through.
It aches at my heart like my sweet tooth and oversized thighs.
How can I escape this hateful day?
when there is no sun to scatter the clouds, only rain to pour my pain.
Women like me seek vengence with a curse and hurt for love in all the right places.
 
Thank you. :) when I first wrote this I was taking a class on women's history and I was feeling at that momment that women get trapped between so many roles, often times its forgotten that we have voice. when we are successful some are intimidated, and some despise us. I feel women love so much they take on anything just to be able to love.
 
When I'm hurting I hear voices and I swallow the pain to conjour thoughts that once relished in happiness through Joys I was never given.
A mark is what I want to leave, but I find my deeds erased and replaced with someones antagonizing. gestures and hateful ways.
There is no peace in a tortured soul.
No tears in an alarming place.
The fight is always your right to live
and your suffering is yours to feel. yours to keep.
yours to show and yours to hide.
If being a woman were so easy I'd be me, but I stand there cradiling there blows like a child I'd never leave.
praying that one day it will go away,
but it will never be a truth
that I can say I went through.
It aches at my heart like my sweet tooth and oversized thighs.
How can I escape this hateful day?
when there is no sun to scatter the clouds, only rain to pour my pain.
Women like me seek vengence with a curse and hurt for love in all the right places.



fam imma add another facet to yours and much love on the real. check me...

in the morning time...
love never knock at my door,
so i get up and walk outside,
either when off to work slaving,
working my non-profit solely,
prophet of my owned times struggling,
the past is gone in the winds,
meaning she who said and i who did,
presently i strive for the needs,
i done saw the wants drowning me,
i slowed down to rewind my wise memories,
the definition of being mental patient,
with no-thing plus time around space,
i ditched alcohol and both kinds of mary jane,
refueled my soul bookless reading deeper into self,
the mystery of depths deepest within my genes,
my mutha's rhythm of the dead alive beating proudly,
i saw the queen of my life at the mountaintop waiting,
she said all earthly wonders will not get me there with her,
so i kept sacrificing and it's been about three years now,
from city to city watching couples hugged up smiling,
from the poorest hoods to the richest neighborhoods,
she said love me as i love you,
and i asked how?
from the heart as the respected,
so i grew from unreal to realest beyond my last times,
and my road motto be the roses that i carry,
never failing loving feeling fresher everyday,
another notch of growth without vain or kissup,
i learned reality and love is like the four o'clock flower,
worldwide they blossom timed,
and my bed still has cold sheets,
regardless of the fireplace and electrical heater,
and my black skin which absorbs sunshine naturally...
i'm hurting....

(from Diary of a Black Man by Nefertum Husia Shayheh Jan 1st 2014)
 
fam imma add another facet to yours and much love on the real. check me...

in the morning time...
love never knock at my door,
so i get up and walk outside,
either when off to work slaving,
working my non-profit solely,
prophet of my owned times struggling,
the past is gone in the winds,
meaning she who said and i who did,
presently i strive for the needs,
i done saw the wants drowning me,
i slowed down to rewind my wise memories,
the definition of being mental patient,
with no-thing plus time around space,
i ditched alcohol and both kinds of mary jane,
refueled my soul bookless reading deeper into self,
the mystery of depths deepest within my genes,
my mutha's rhythm of the dead alive beating proudly,
i saw the queen of my life at the mountaintop waiting,
she said all earthly wonders will not get me there with her,
so i kept sacrificing and it's been about three years now,
from city to city watching couples hugged up smiling,
from the poorest hoods to the richest neighborhoods,
she said love me as i love you,
and i asked how?
from the heart as the respected,
so i grew from unreal to realest beyond my last times,
and my road motto be the roses that i carry,
never failing loving feeling fresher everyday,
another notch of growth without vain or kissup,
i learned reality and love is like the four o'clock flower,
worldwide they blossom timed,
and my bed still has cold sheets,
regardless of the fireplace and electrical heater,
and my black skin which absorbs sunshine naturally...
i'm hurting....

(from Diary of a Black Man by Nefertum Husia Shayheh Jan 1st 2014)
Wow I am completly blown away I love this, keep doing your thing. :)
 

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