Tag: growth

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Knotted women

Knotted women
With whipped legs, full
Siren Buddha orphan
Four fingers and red mats
Brown squares under their eyes
Lives down the street some tag and sway
Knotted women prefers it this way

King bed in clams
Pearls replacing pupils
Pills and a nice white
Did a promise keep them
A fellow hand wrapped in silk and wool

The sun cleanses knotted women
Bathing child
Swimming in muscle memory
A letter is nothing
A minute a mile away

Knotted women don’t keep time
Don’t use things how they’re suppose to
Right brained
Hair pulled brick by brick
Dreaming to touch Jupiter if they make it
Shiva in the Himalayas

Knotted women are Satis’ sacrifice
A severed limb
Mermaids live with them
They call each other sisters
It soothes all the soil and turmoil
It inspires miracles
Knotted women

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I often find myself

surrounded by

books and papers

lovers expansion

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Text:

The heavens of womanhood.

Revelations of my souls essence.

Emerging ashes saturated in a deliciously delicate black hole of grit.

You know, the usual.

And you?

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In a year One, 27=9

Returning to self
Year One
Year Twenty-seven
Two plus seven equals nine
The beginning and the end of..
My heart/ My grief/ My loneliness/ My faith/ My integrity/ My trust/ Birthrights/ My abundance/ The empty/ The full/ My sovereignty/ This paranoia/ New softness n rest/ Introductions to hate/ reintroductions to self love/ Sowing seeds/ Reaping harvest/ My purpose/ More grief/ n Love/ n Discernment/ n Blunt honesty/ n Holding space/ Spring cleaning/ Clear paths/ Generational wealth/ Longevity/ Fertility
.
The soil is wet
I will follow me
And I pray to remain sane as I’m
Beginning, beginning
Always ending
Always purging and making space
What no longer serves me has no place in my presence
With ease
Filling me
Seeing
Me
In a shade never discovered
Most ain’t serving me
Most won’t save me
Like moths to a flame
Disclaiming, you may not be able to swallow what you see
But to see
Me
Learning and
Listening
Solitary
Moving gently cause Twenty-seven is sacred
Twenty-seven is pivotal
The turning point
Facing myself
Pricking myself
Peeling myself
Burning of self
Healing
Myself
And yet
I’ve never felt stronger
An aureate light
Fight before flight
Earning perineal roots & my grey hairs
I’ve never felt as whole
Within the peaceful madness
Grateful sadness
Chaotic order
I discovered
Myself
Here and now
For when you know yourself truly and deeply
You move different. You get to exist without a care in the world. You get to trust and believe in everything you are.
The magic
The prophecies
The soil
The tears
The sun
The blood
The moon
The rain
Actions done in vain
The angels and the saints

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I don’t like to yell

I don’t like to yell

But I love to break the silence

To penetrate

It’s the first breath

The tip of birth

And you can’t find that kind of moment in movement and stimulation

Go silent for a moment

Svāhā!

Climax

Hands full of prana

Roar through your pores in the safest place

Feel the goodness and the horror

Accept it and become more than vessel

I don’t need to yell through pressure when I’m molded because of it

I like to whisper and pray in my head by my lonesome next to a river under a bridge or something

I don’t want anyone to hear me either, not now it’s too late now

And jokester is my middle name

I got it from my father and they got yelling from our mother

But I

I don’t like to yell

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September 24, 2022

I get hate for being an alchemist.

I’m surrounded by hurt people. Confused people. Boundaries. Know my limits. Become a recluse.

My abundance is my backbone. It’s what real love tastes like. Unconditional love. Chamomile and honey.

Calm waters. Strength. I know how it looks getting there and what it feels like. I taste it often. It surrounds me. I’ve felt the touch.

Seeking similarities. Taking risks but not to strike blood, not blind and never fooled.

Tap in or keep your distance, cause once ancestors makes moves we burn bridges with haste to protect ours.