The Calling

I stand before you…
Now tell me exactly what you see,
I am giving you this opportunity to judge me,
so what are your eyes telling you?
What lies are they plaguing your mind with?
Who stands before you?
Who do you see?
The baby of the poetry?
This scared little girl,
trapped in a body blossoming before baby believed she was ready…
Break me down…
crack open my skull
cut open my chest
tear through my spirit…
my soul.
Rape my psyche.
Then tell me what you find there…
Define me,
place me in whatever category you decide i fit in.
Stereotype me.
I mean, that’s only if you haven’t already…
don’t sit there and act like you don’t understand me.
Don’t act like you haven’t done this…
before.
Re-name me.
Call me bitch
cunt,
whore,
slut,
nigga,
coon,
pickinini,
jiggaboo,
anything, but beautiful.
Tell me who I am.
What role should I play?
I’m ready for my cue.
Just tell me what you want me to do,
then watch me…
defy you.
Rise above any put down you put up against me.
Call me weak,
and I’ll show you how strong i can be.
Show you that i was born a one-man army,
bred to protect me.
Taught that the only person that could ever really love me…
is me,
so Fuck You.
Tell me I’m not beautiful and I’ll show you what angels look like.
Show you why God painted me in colors as holly as He.
My skin is etched in gold,
sprinkled with chocolate so pure,
it could make all others go out of business.
Hershey kissed by an almond sun.
Skin softer than new born baby angels,
hung over the perfect poem.
My words curve perfectly though slightly premature.
Doubt my intellect,
and I’ll converse with you
on whatever level you decide to take me to.
Exceed your expectations.
My mind is waiting for you to drown in.
Let me show you that my tongue has razor wings
still dripping thoughts from the last battle we encountered.
My mind is varnished vividly with intellectual battle wounds
that only make me smarter,
wiser.
Use your sword to brand me,
call me whatever your mind wishes.
I no longer care what you choose to do
cause it’s not what you’re called…
but what you answer to.

Faces

Faces hold stories that are unheard by eyes,
souls tend to be captivated by lies told by tangible intangible.
The blueprints to fantasies are found in rainbow roots,
and the map ones heart is found in fingertips.
Lips part to make secrets exist,
but yet eyes don’t listen very well closed.
How different…
love can be…
How badly it can fail to up lift you.
Why do what you know you’ll fail to understand
Tragically,
romance ends too much like the lives of butterflies
touched by oiled tips to eager to hold something so beautiful.
Colors are skewed by you who choose to believe your helping you’re scared of losing…
Why?
Why hold flames that burn wisdom into palms made of ignorance?
Silky forgiveness is found on the velvet surface of sunrise moons…
Torn tears are lost in cracked hearts
bruised and broken.
Eyes burn oceans who’s blue waves rise and break…
alone.
Funny how we seek dark dreams shaken free by angelic nightmares.
Evil cannot exist without good,
but why is good nonexistent?
What makes one happy?
Are smiles drenched in the tears shed from enemy eyes?
Or do the joyous cries of others ricochet and create half circle scars on faces…?
What are smiles?
Half moons?
Or two way mirrors that allow no one to see inside the darkness that lingers behind them?
Are they symbols of true happiness?
or just another lie heard by eyes wide shut?
Emotions run deeper than most family ties…
cause feeling,
is living.
But can you live with what you’re feeling?
Do your emotions over take you,
Or do you burry them inside your spirit?
How different… life can be.
How badly it can fail to uplift you.
But yet we still choose to continue down these paths that lead to our own self destruction,
subconsciously crying out for attention.
Waiting to hear lies said out of repetition stupidity.
But eyes tend to talk to much,
and ears never see the sincerity in words.
But if we would just let our eyes listen,
for a moment…
then maybe we would finally be able to hear the stories that faces hold…