a widowed soul

#POEMBER #30DAYPOETRYCHALLENGE DAY 19 PROMPT: VULNERABILITY

a soul

is reflected in the infinite pool

channeled

using artistic tools

an impenetrable soul

like the widow

is not to be consoled

for the soul without penetration

left to exist without connection

left voiceless

in this dimension

dresses itself in all black

in an oversized hat

to hide the shame, the pain

of existing alone

of not having the courage to let go

unlike the widow

the soul can never truly lose

it’s connection to you

like the widow

attaches itself to a few re-bounds

but nothing truly profound

the soul must be allowed to flow

must not be caged

and hid away

must be wateres

with the truth of vulnerability

must be taken to the mountaintop

for all to see

for unlike the widow

the soul is both

beginning and end

with a lifetime

to comprehend

whereas the widow

is simply a simile for an ending and a question mark to the impending

(C) N. OCASIO (LADY SOI) 2020

alpha female unapologetic

#POEMBER #30DAYPOETRYCHALLENGE PROMPT: TRAUMA/FEAR

the girl was quiet, but profound

didn’t hang around the lost and found; lost but afraid to be found

wandered the world in her mind without ever leaving inside

fears included everything

eyes to the ground

no point in chasing

dreams, for her destiny was written

stared in too many broken mirrors

left the poison apple half bitten

wanted to die but afraid of death

the girl was funny, a light amongst friends

but trapped in a mind which she could not comprehend

outcast syndrome, fell in love with the silence

call it stockholm

a life alone, with no one to play with, no one to phone

a lifetime in isolation, in contemplation

led to many questions, to the acceptance

that many will go unanswered

if insecurity is a kingdom she was the queen

forehead felt like a thousand coals

when she felt seen

born with a want to hide, with no one to seek

she couldn’t understand why

games of who do you want to be?

where she wouldn’t dare utter “me”

why would she want to be herself?

her life was “hell”, her reflection fanned the flames, felt depression before it even had a name

perpetual sorrow, perpetually lonely

only trusted words cause they’re holy

attempted suicide only to find out she didn’t wanna die

traveled across the globe and found a home

maybe she did belong, her thoughts echoed

her soul bellowed

restless heart crooked smile

the quiet girl began to grow up

her heart was shattered

and as she picked up the pieces

she glimpsed into her life

the pieces a mirror, reflecting back the strife

she saw

her back slumped

weighed down by her eternal internal frown

she saw

her forgotten dreams

for this there was no sound

she saw

pieces of what could be

hidden behind the shatters, somehow still untattered

she was engulfed by an energy

that picked her up and sung her to sleep

she awoke

fearless

looked back at the pieces

“fuck you i dont need this”

she screamed

she was loud

making up for the times she was silenced

disavowed

picked up her chin, brushed off the frown

replaced it with a grin

she didn’t want to behave and bow her head

she wanted to be free and dance instead

at a young age took a vow to self to never fit the mold

wasn’t even sure who she told

what this meant

but that day as over the shatters she was bent

the fire crackled and lit

it wasnt too late

for herself to save

brainwashed at a young age

to believe some other equally lost soul was she to behold

as her king, her heaven and hell

he who knew what, for her, was well

explained many of her patterns, her projected trauma

so she vowed to fix what was broken

to re-wire the wires so she could swallow the truth and stop chokin

she stopped waiting for ghosts

for she grew tired of being haunted

hunted by the demons

that projected all the things she was scared to believe in

alpha female

unapologetic

in this story

she saves her self

don’t need a sequel

this life is prophetic

the girl evolved from omniscient third person

to first person

i

am no longer afraid to fly

i no longer want to die

but i accept the truth

and i am not aloof

i am emotion

sensitivty

vulnerability

these are my weapons in this society

so i scream from this page

don’t do what you’re told

unless it’s to reclaim

your narrative, your life, yourself

be free, for you create the heaven and hell

this is my truth

and i dont wanna be aloof

the womb across the room

#poember ~ 30 day poetry challenge ~ day 11 ~ prompt: someone you see

i watch as they move around the room, eyes fidget like hands looking for keys. scanning back and forth, almost like a plea. a plea? to be invisible? to disappear? to be seen?

i sit back in my chair, running my fingers through my hair

the faint buzz of the music, lulls me into a trance

i watch from across the room as his calculated movements send my brain into a dance

with every move i have to inhale, for not much of my breath remains

he inhales and sucks all the air out of the room

and when he exhales the room is lighter, less filled with gloom

i wonder what his lungs are made of, what magic intertwines within his alveoli

developing x-ray vision i stare into his chest

wondering what the insides look like, what it would feel like below my head

he slides his fingers across the pages of his book, then rhythmically up to his hair

runs them through, and just keeps them there

i’m his fingers now

and i dance between his thick curls, long and short, coils of sorts

inhaling the scent, on my descent down his forehead i slide down the bridge of nose and cozy into the space between his lips and the very tip

the floor beneath me rumbles as he speaks, lips move up and down, across his lips my fingers sweep

i dont think he can feel me

but i can feel him

someone bumps my chair and im transported out of the rumbling womb, back across the room

i look up and hes looking at me

its almost as if

we traded places

just to explore each others faces

#poember ~ 30 day poetry challenge ~ day 10

TITLE: RESTLESS HEART, CROOKED SMILE

A heart of glass

a river of stone

gentle things

pretty things

of which destruction is not condoned

restless heart, crooked smile

tear it apart

make it worth while

what good is a heart

if it does not shatter

from overuse

whats the point of livin recluse

i say give it your all

and just let loose

dont allow fear to choose

i wanna be where the humans are

i wanna feel them dancin

swingin their hips to the beat of the world

lying on their backs

eyes rolled back

toes curled

life is so beautiful you know?

good and bad must exist

it’s about the balance

that must persist

for far too long

“bad” has tipped the scale

how bout we

let love in

and send the hate straight to hell

#poember ~ 30 day poetry challenge ~ day 9 ~ theme: wealth gap

TITLE: the butterfly effect

*screen pans to kim kardashians house*

“mommy im hungry”

“go in the fridge and grab something to eat sweetie”

“which fridge has the snacks?”

“the third one baby”

*screen pans to working class household”

“mommy im hungry”

“ask your brother for some of his food, i have to go to work and theres some cereal in the pantry”

*screen pans to household below poverty line*

“mommy im hungry”

“i know baby i know, tomorrow morning you’ll be able to eat a good breakfast at school”

house A has 50 shoes per person

house B has 10 shoes per person

house C doesn’t have a house or shoes

it’s said that something like three men own the same amount of money, of wealth

as the bottom 50% of the american population

thats 3 people

have as much money combined

as 50% of an entire population

we’ll keep this simple and not dive in to the further division of this money in terms of race

although im sure you can all guess how that will go

now long story short

the gap between the rich and the poor grew wider and wider as the rich gained more and more

the clouds hang above my head

i can hear the low rumble of the planes in my ears

echo the rumbles of so many stomachs around me

a thought which to my eyes, brings tears

the inequality we see today is a mirror of what our ancestors saw in yesterdays

however thats not to say that its okay

that we should just accept it as something that has always been

because when you look with eyes of truth

you can see through this sin

we must allow ourselves to see what is for what it is

so we can begin to do the work of fixing how it exists

now this is not to demonize those who have worked hard for their money

surely they deserve to live lavish, and laugh when its not funny

however

when they kick back their feet and relax

somewhere in some part of the world there’s a starving person wandering through the traintracks

families split bread and never miss a day at school so they can be fed

there’s just something wrong when we get paid billions for writing a song

then hoard all that cash, snort it basically throw it in the trash

there should be some sort of ethic limit no?

so we can prevent the sizes to which these gaps grow?

teachers barely scrape the surface but shape the world

through shaping the development of every boy and girl

people upset about the gradual raise of minimum wage

be careful of who you defend and who you blame

do you really think someone can survive off of 7.25

in america?!?!

its okay to lend your brother a helping hand

its okay to let love take a stand

dont forget that the common enemy is the man not your fellow human trying to make ends meet with a family of four and nothing to eat

around the world americans are known as wasteful, distasteful

we consume and consume like there’s no end to to the room, like there is no impending doom

the wealth gap is a product of inequality

income inequality, racial inequality, opportunity inequality, educational inequality

how can we re-distribute the wealth?

re-program your mind

remove the indoctrination

re-distribute the education

each one teach one, together lets rebuild our nation

to change the whole we must change the half to change the half we must change each piece

so lets hold ourselves accountable, at least

next time you go to mcdonalds and buy a number three, add a extra large fry and give it to the homeless dude outside make sure you look em in the eye and smile at em real big let em know your on his side

we all just want to know we’re not alone, that we belong that this place is our home

next time you go to the dollar store buy a pack of snacks, deodorant and socks galore keep them in your car and instead of mean mugging the “beggar” at the light roll down your window and give him a bite, if we all do this i promise it’ll go real far

yes its gonna be hard to shift the state of our world

but we must start now, together

rememeber that on earth there are billions of worlds, one within each of us and if we re-shape our world we can re-shape the world

history is now and we write the book

take back your pen and around you, take a look

every action in the ocean of life, ripples into eternity

so make sure you’re nice

and create what you wanna see

#poember ~ day 8 ~ 30 day poetry challenge ~prompt: decisions

TITLE: win or lose? you choose.

whats the difference between a win and a lose?

the choice to shoot the shot

and walk the walk

the choice to get caught

in the negative talk

decisions, decisions

which should i choose

should i kick out the chair

or loosen the noose

i can’t decide if i want to wake up today

the sun shines on my face

as the clouds roll into my head

i cant decide if i want to wake up today

or if im better off dead

decisions, decisions

which should i choose

take the risk of my dreams

or keep my head low and put on the news

a choice, a reflection of your voice

explains why the voiceless so frequently correlates with the choiceless

free will allows us to choose our bed

to lie in it too

indecision steals my will

stepping back into the wheel

robs me of my right to feel

whats right for me

not for the people i see

and the fingers they point

choose this choose that

or you’ll dissapoint

all around me i see

people making decisions

i wonder if they’re all following a vision

or taking stabs in the dark

with pure willingness to embark

i think what holds me back is my doubt

not sure if to choose this or that

what if i choose x and should’ve chose y

what if it creates the wrong timeline?

through analysis ive found

that when you make a choice

you should consider the outcomes

and which one will most align with your voice

sometimes this requires sacrifice

allow old habits to die

so new versions of you may come alive

truly, no choice can end in failure

because all end in experience

and experience shapes behavior

allow yourself to be molded by boldness

let it seep into your pours

as you make confident choices

make a decision

and stick to it

follow through

and let your courage see you through

i hope you choose life today

i hope you choose confidence

i hope you choose peace

and to the indecision lay seige

i hope you believe in yourself

because without belief in a heaven

we’ll all end up in hell

the cyclical nature of creation

reading helps me find my voice. just as “ello poppet” helps me speak a british accent. and “pulling a string” on my body helps me to create a character in improv. for every creation there is a model. if this is true then who created the first model? did the originators of all creations model their creations after anything other than the visions in their heads?

reading helps me find my voice. picks me up and places me into a world where there are only words, there is only literature. all else is white noise to the soundtrack of the writer. i read and words flow to me like i am the shore and the words are the ocean. endlessly crashing into me, seemingly retreating but always coming back to caress my feet. words are truly magical, they create nations and burn them down. they light the fires of love and give meaning to the days and nights. what would the world be without words? what would we use to express, how would we communicate? what other universal form of interaction would we create? would all be music? art? and without a universal model, would there be endless originality? endless creation? or is all creativity recycled at some point in time?

it seems an absolute truth to me that without eachother we can not create. however it also seems to me a truth that with eachother we can not create. something of a yin and yang this thought. that in order to create there must be a certain cyclical element specific to the art of creation and a certain linear element specific to the creator.

my mind spins with ideas. i am rich in ideas yet so so poor in creation. ideas are only ideas if they are not put to action. i could drown in a sea of ideas before i ever build a raft. however when i allow myself to look around the sea, maybe dive below and explore the carcasses of the past. i am overcome with ideas, with inspiration. i could build a million rafts from simply seeing that one raft was built one million years ago. there is something comforting in the knowledge that one of the mystery humans of the past has had similar ideas and of them created a raft with which to float amongst them.

all this to say, when we save ourselves, we save others. when we allow ourselves to create, to be; when we have the courage to create a model, a blueprint of a raft in which to float the sea of life. we create a portal into the minds of others, which they can tap into for centuries to come.

this is the cyclical nature of creation.

i love u

#poember ~ poetry challenge day 7 ~ relationships

TITLE: ONE DAY
an ocean so vast, an enigma so sweet

a field of possibility

of endless interpretation

and infinite defeat

human relationships

have always puzzled me

maybe its because im an only child

maybe its because ive never had one worth while

whatever it is i hope it goes away soon

because i think of genuine human connection and swoon

i love people, i do

but i dont know if people love me too

theres so many relationships to be had

platonic, intimate, good, bad

professional and … the ones that are just plain sad

most relationships seem to mirror the internal aspects of us

“show me your friends, and ill show you who you are”

the human psyche seems to be

the core of the information we see

its interesting because

all that we see is created by us

so maybe thats why my relationships may have always sucked

because of how i saw myself

and the aspects that away i tucked

i long for a place to lay my head

where i can rest

and be as weird as i want, no judgment

no comments about the shit that i said

people who just accept

me, for me.

the purest relationship that could ever be

is the one that recognizes all this for what it is

and sees all beings through that lens

as a reflection of all that exists

confronts others with grace and love

so below

as above

people can only know you as deeply as they’ve known themselves

and most people have only ever known hell

hope grows inside my soul

that as time goes on, more of ourselves we’ll know

and deeper into eachother we’ll come

as we release the judgment

allow all to become

relationships are a mirror

in which to see clearer

the problem is

when we don’t want to see what is

so we smash the mirror

forgetting that the reflection

although in another

is us

and when they suffer

we suffer

and we break human trust

i think honesty is the key

to connecting with someone

i haven’t been too great at it

i must admit

but i am working to get better

one day ill be able to hold your hand

woman or man

one day ill be able to hold your gaze

for days and days

one day ill let you hold me

one day ill tell you all my stories

one day

in the world

there will be true unity

one day

💜💜💜💜💜💖💖💘💘💘💞💞💞💓💓💓💓💓

“the visible is a shadow cast by the invisible” ~ plato

I keep “The Measure of a Man” by Dr. Martin Luther King JR. on my desk. I just picked it up and opened to a page that revealed to me the true poetic nature of Dr. King.

He writes:

“Something should remind us once more that the great things in the universe are things that we never see. You walk out at night and look up at the beautiful stars as they bedeck the heavens like swinging lanterns of eternity, and you think you can see all. Oh, no. You can never see the law of gravitation that holds them there. You walk around this vast campus and you probably have a great esthetic experience as I have had walking about and looking at the beautiful buildings, and you think you see all. Oh, no. You can never see the mind of the architect who drew the blueprint. You can never see the love and the faith and the hope of the individuals who made it so. You look at me and you think you see Martin Luther King. You don’t see Martin Luther King; you see my body, but, you must understand, my body can’t think, my body can’t reason. You don’t see the me that makes me me. You can never see my personality. In a real sense everything we see a shadow cast by that which we do not see.”

Dr. Martin Luther King JR.

Dr. King was a man of a deep rooted faith. A strong argument could be created that he believed in the unseen more than anyone else of his time. For it was because of his blind faith and infinite vision that he was able to lead us to the mountaintop. He had seen the promised land, whether it be in a vision or in his dreams. He had seen something which no one else had seen, and he believed in it wholeheartedly. He fought for this vision so graciously and so righteously that he convinced an entire nation of people to walk behind him. Many of which, including me, still do; years after his passing.

I share this today to redirect us to the connectivity and oneness of all things. The computer i’m typing on originated in the mind of a fellow human. But i will never see the courage with which he built it, the determination he had when creating it. All i see is the product of this. I see the final vision. The same is true for traffic lights, pens, television, art, music, etc. The same is true for all that we see in this current moment. All that we see is made possible due to all we can not and will never see.

It is very important to pay attention to every moment. For we do not know which moments are the invisible ones that will give birth to the visions of eternity, we do not know which thoughts, moments, ideas are the mothers of the future. We must nurture ourselves and love ourselves. Follow our deepest passions with the purest form of love and diligence fathomable. We are blind at the feet of feeling, of experience. So why then is it so difficult for us to trust, to believe in the things we can not see. We do this all the time subconsciously. We accept so many shadows of the invisible as true, as facts. So what is it that blocks us from extending this same trust to our conscious daily life?

All has come from another, an invisible source. Even we. So, I pose these follow-up questions for reflection: If we can see the product of the source, isn’t that testament that the source exists? For without a source, there is no existence?

For all creations there must be a creator.

thank u for reading my beloved humans on the other end of the internet void. i love u.