Sound Salve

I love music, I do…but let me let you in on a secret. I need it more than I want it. If I have no instrumental to drown out my thoughts there is cerebral echo. My thoughts don’t just speak, they yell and repeat in an annoying round like a song at a Girl Scout campfire. The music competes with the noise and wins eventually. My heart beats to baseline, my mind follows the melody. The harmony would be my conscience’s ad-libs.

I’ve been conditioned to genres. Heavy metal is my anger while jazz plays coy in the background when I’m shy. Yes, I have shy moments. Classical is the echelon of organized thought I seek to attain. It’s my precursor, my mentor, my intellectual prototype. I stride in salsa while breathing the blues.

Music is my security blanket and enabler. It’s the friend that passes me another shot knowing I’ve had enough. I throw it back to prove I’m not a lightweight. My ears flood, my speakers blow and my mind goes…

Meters

Her mind races, he sprints after.
Her thoughts were winded and stopped for water, he quit the race to give her a drink.
They decide to run in stride, side by side.
Finished.

(Blank) me.

Breathe me.
Take in my air. Let me fill your lungs.

See me.
Let visions of me blind you from all shades of gray that seek to cover our color.

Hear me.
My laughter will be what you listen for and mute anything that sounds remotely like doubt.

Talk me…
to sleep. Your words will serve as a lullaby and I’ll dream of us.

Feel me.
That phantom touch is my hand. The hand that waved goodbye but never lifted high enough to say hello again.

I sound a lot deeper on page: Today is the last day to Vote for @GraffitiDC as "Best Venue" For the Nuspa's (

Link: I sound a lot deeper on page: Today is the last day to Vote for @GraffitiDC as "Best Venue" For the Nuspa's (

sheedemilio:

As you may or may not know, Graffiti DC has been nominated for a NUSPA (National Spokenword Poetry Award) for “Best Venue”.  It is pretty much the Grammys of Spokenword Poetry.  Today is the LAST day to vote for our venue and we’d love ALL the support we can get.  We work extremely hard to bring to everyone a quality show.  Also, our very own Hadaiyah “Ya Ya” Bey is nominated for the “Most Inspiration Poet” award.  Please vote for her as well!!!  The link is below. It literally takes only 2 or 3 minutes.   PLEASE REBLOG

http://www.nuspa.us/castyourvote.html

Thank you :)

graffitidc:

This Beautiful woman, Ya Ya will be a part of the Graffiti DC feature next Wednesday 4.18.

Liv Nightclub 

11th & U Street NW.

Doors Open at 7.

graffitidc:

This handsome gentleman, Rasheed Copeland will be a part of the Graffiti DC feature on Next Wednesday 4.18. also!!

Liv Nightclub

11th and U Street

Doors Open at 7!

Signed, "The beautiful darskinned girl in 9th grade who rejected you because her mirrors never loved her back" 11/30 NaPoWriMo

sheedemilio:

My apologies,
But you shoudlve known better.
Known that us,
Both stained with the same flesh,
Would favor best
With fairer complected loves
To spare our offspring
And dilute their sin
To spare them
From hiding out
In their own darkness
Like we sometimes have to,
I’ve got enough ugly
to be ashamed of without you.

Dances with Wolves...

She attempted to dance from a distance but solo steps became a tango.

The wolf showed up without invitation. In true predator style, nonetheless. 

She slid in hopes to move far enough to escape his eye but she forgot that he already had her scent. 

He smelled her fear but surprisingly didn’t attack, just paced back and forth to watch her next move. 

Even if he couldn’t see her anymore he still knew her frequented places and could show up at a moment’s notice.

He had images of how she jumped, how she ran…he even knew what her silence meant. 

She figured it was easier to say nothing and keep poise. She continued dancing like she had before.

Waiting and anticipating the attack that never transpired grew to be pointless, so she invited him to dance. 

She figured it was easier to dance alongside him than to counter his moves from afar. 

Parallel Landfills

Just something I wrote after a weighted phone convo. It has been trapped in my blackberry long enough…

They come to dump their junk, their unwanted things. The mess that has piled up in their space has become overwhelming and unwelcome so they drop it off here. I retain it all until it spills over only to make more room for more mess. The clutter starts to run over into each other and has no breathing room. A stench forms that sticks in the air. It travels, it doesn’t dissipate for miles, choking everyone it meets. Did they not know that there was stuff here already? Pre-existing piles of tattered trash that were waiting to be compacted or better yet burned. They don’t care, they tell me secrets, they vent to release their woes but they don’t know where it truly goes. It goes through my ears only to lay and gather in my mind. Their breakthrough, my burden. Their spring cleaning has only littered my temple. God please teach them to recycle and turn their own trash to treasure. I’m filled to capacity. *exhale*