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brookelynne

funky town

SG Since 2002

Followers 405 Following 185

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Wednesday Feb 04, 2004

Feb 4, 2004
0
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a poem


12.02.03


Don’t know why im typing this here
Cant find a piece of paper
Only have blue pens
So damn trashy unfinished unpolished imperfect impoverished
This computer might crash like it always does because its
A piece of shit just like everything
Just like this feeling
Just because
Im too poor to help myself out of this mess
Don’t have any other choice
Cant take it
One more lecture from one more person telling me how to make my life better
An ocean full of sad faces on happy pills
Telling me how to make my life better
Don’t even have the basics
Cant afford to work
Cant afford to not work
Government wants to help me but only if I
walk around with a case number instead of name
With my hands tied behind my back
While they kick me in the gut
But I cant work and make something of myself
Because I cant trust anyone with my child

Because I fucked a man who lied to me
Lied to me
Lied
About himself to me
And now I am one
Just me
Mine me, the only one in this picture
This curled up ball of used to be headstrong vibrant soul
Pummeled by told you sos
And oh so sad
And how very unlike her
She had such a future
She was such a smart girl.
Fuck them
Fuck this
Fuck the fucking people in my life
That cant look past their own pain
That cant keep from dumping their emotional garbage in my lap
Because I seem competent enough to digest it
Doesn’t make it any more appropriate
Grabbing MY shoulders to keep from drowning yourself you fucking lunatic

Just because Im strong enough doesn’t mean I should have to

A rock and a hard place
A rock and a wall
And cement floors
Where I cant have tacks
Or nails
Or anything to prove I was ever there
I must remain
Within the boundaries
Color within the lines
My life is no longer mine
I am just a number
Repeat
Repeat
Repeat
Until it stops hurting
Repeat
Repeat repeat

Invisible
Emotionless

Silent
Gone squandered and broken down
Digested by the social hysteria
Of being commonplace
Of being one of the statistics
A scarlet letter on my forehead
Poor black trash
Single mommy
In the ghetto

How disgusted am I
How disgusted I am
By this notion
By this title
By what I have become
Do I need you to tell me I have made a mistake
So you can slap me in the face again

This is what I get for being different
For thinking out of the box they throw me in

the lions den
Where all the rich mediocre people live
Because that’s how you make it
And no one ever told me that
That’s how you make it these days
Close your mouth open your legs and no one ever has to know

What a fucking joke
What a lonely fucking joke

Why am I writing this here
Breaking the boundaries-again
Of light conversation
Breaking the theories of sex sex pot
This is what got me where I am beauties

I fucked someone I didn’t love
This is what ruins the girls like me
I am a I was a girl like me
Look at me now
What I know
I wouldn’t
Coulnt know until now
And theres no turning back

Im off to join the ranks of the single black mothers
Wanna be poets
Living in the projects
And bickering with and putting up with
Shit from
An emotionally unavailable
Abusive babys daddy
Yep that’s the truth
I suddenly grew the balls to say it
And its like slapping myself in the face
Idiot
Idiot
Idiot
Look what you’ve gotten yourself into now

Cuz im the babys momma
Babys momma drama
And several other cute little phrases
And how many of us are there
Crying ourselves to sleep


There are no happy endings only stereotypical bland timelines of nothingness
No plot just blatant repetitive lifetime original
Drama on this dysfunctional yellow brick road to hell

Just puke on a fucking page
Ive got to bare my soul to someone while it still feels this raw

Ill be better later…..




*******

I posted this here a while back, I saved one poem. I dont know if I want to use this in my portfolio or start out all new and fresh and happy....
VIEW 9 of 9 COMMENTS
ndoki:
a response:


The future becoming present

From now on - and for some centuries to come - the Universe will help the warriors of the light and boycott the prejudiced.
The energy of the Earth needs renovating.
New ideas need space.
The body and the soul need new challenges.
The future becomes present and all the dreams - except those that involve prejudices - will enjoy the chance to manifest themselves.
Whatever is important will remain; whatever is useless will disappear. For that reason, when lots of people gather to give their opinion on how he should act or behave, the warrior ignores all criticism, understanding that his mission on Earth leaves him no time for explaining everything he does.
He also avoids commenting on the behavior of others: in order to have faith in his own path, he has no need to prove that the path of the other is wrong. Those who act like that have no trust in their own steps.

Feb 7, 2004
jayde__:
I feel cheesy saying this, but... wow... this is absolutely wonderful. It's brought me to tears, too...
Feb 12, 2004

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