Still Those arms are reaching north
Writing is a passion that I shall learn to miss when I have no desire to fill blank lines with words that matter even if they only matter to me.
I love to write, therefore I will write. Does it have to make sense to everyone? No.
Blankets of clouds cover the earth like Serenity has come to tuck us all in. But the war on peace blockades such sleep. We lay in concrete jungles and crush the dreams of future roses because our buds are more important. It's nippy outside. Individualistic ideologies try to become apart of societal infrastructures but crumble … Continue reading The Brave Grow Old
Tell me about what makes you amazing!
I love him.
...I'd rather die with my ancestors in the ocean because they knew death was better than bondage... ---Killmonger
The phoenix loved from inside of him
We know your thinking holds consequences and it tries to bury our truths but our truths are seeds and will always bear fruit.
Blacks are still looked at as profits in some cases and not people.
Punctuate. Original thought Clauses; Impossible platitudes Avoiding tradition Failing to be more than a poet’s past. Writer, storyteller, history maker: there is nothing more to be done if everything has already been repeated into common places. Pounded into dust, “Gone with the Wind”, drifting through time to pay homage to nothing new. White space … Continue reading Cliché