Feelings of Fear

©2017 E. R. Smith

A block of ice lays the head

Bites into the brain

Crams darkness like lead

Drives one insane

Evil is this blatant insanity

Fear the power consuming

Grave the battle, calamity

Heart-felt power dooming

Icy prickles spread down spine

Just in time to catch doubt

Killing hope of life divine

Leaving  bitter drought

My soul glistens when vaporized

Numb tears shed  its loss

Owning a head beaten traumatized

Phantom unseen touches toss

Quiet mind down and determine

Really, is it there?

Sane is it,  to house this vermin?

Tear now at angst’s snare

Unseat it from the crown

Visualize strength inside

Will Force to beat it sound

X-Gen worries easing stride

Years of prayers  Mighty pound

Zen reached  Love drowned sigh

 

 

 

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Am I Wicked?

I wrote this for the bloggersmeetup; thought I’d share it here too.

 

Source: Am I Wicked?

 

 

Am I Wicked?

©2017 E. R. Smith

Standing before my opinionated mirror, conversing,

“You are so  wicked”, Mirror announces

Cutting eyes, I warn my accessory I will not hesitate to shatter him

“You are a wicked queen”,  Mirror reminds

I ponder,

Yes, I have wicked symmetry to my face

Wicked curves cut my breasts, hips, thighs causing upsets

My tummy is only a bit naughty, four out of six packs

“How wicked am I?”,  I ask, fishing

“Well, I watched you engineer a coup on that young man,”

“He became minion, following an impish grin”,

“Let out fiendish wails as you assaulted him”

“Wayward strands of hair tangled his speech”

“He is enslaved.”

Parting full lips, showing even teeth, a devilish smile

“Yes”,  I admit, “I am a bit vicious”

“But, that young man would concur, my wicked is good.”

Living The Dream

Sharing my alter ego again.  Hope you like it.

Black Pride

Source: Living The Dream

 

Pic courtesy of http://www.womenology.com

 

-Michael Cleaves

Living The Dream

Got up from the Woolworth’s lunch counter, messy with condiments;

Used prints to create a dashiki

Marched all over the southern land, sight-saw strange fruit;

created jazz

Mixed in my education, like a Benetton ad;

uplifted my community

Wore black boots, with black caps, called myself a Panther;

hypnotised a world with Black Power

Unleashed my abundant hair, called myself Beautiful;

introduced a ‘fro

Police stomped my face, sent shepards called German after me;

mainstreamed Rap

Threw my fist in the air like an Olympian, receiving gold;

started profiling

Remembering that dream hasn’t been easy, changing a klan cherished history;

Rap got gangsta’

Beaten even when one couldn’t breathe, now black lives matter;

Confused as to whether we are beginning anew, causes we forgot to remember?

 

Too Fresh to Pick

©2017 E. R. Smith

Stand side line watching players ball

Sweat flying, limbs sleek and poised

Alphas in their prime, gorgeous and tall

Ten wonders, beyond average boys

Heart pounding, in awe of design

Taking in all of the whole of them

Eyes large with possible, uncross align

Preparing to pick the best gem

Picky girl observing on high bleachers

Recalled she’s fresh fifteen

Life with these  remarkable creatures

Just for now,  a vivid dream

The Root of Wisdom: A Tanka

Picture from pinterest.com.

©2017 E. R. Smith

pray, work, clean, love, truth

elders educate the young

fierce, hard, well, deep, tough

adjectives add to the first

blood roots,  wise ancient beings