Pieces of A.N.U

I write to spill the emotions of my heart and free my mind of it's thoughts. --A.N.U

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Drinking (incomplete and unedited)

My mind has started an evolution that my body long beat it too

Kneading the pain

Showing me the peace I longed for

Evoking in me the “if fifth” high

One Guzzle and several sips

Guzzle on the knowledge:

If God is the true head of my life and I give Him all control-Not going into the ring alone.

Divine presence allowing me never to roll with the punches; upper cutting with prayers

During the overpowered rounds, keeping in mind that He has a reason for this

Right hook with my faith- my season of power filled blessings will always outweigh the challenger— I am a champion.

That’s a helluva shot; how about we sip.

Sipping on  

If I walk with my head High, shoulders back.

Clothed in the dignity my grandmother taught me.

I can wake to dried puddles of salty pain ruining pillow cases

Mustering the strength to put my feet on the floor

Tenacity my ancestors showed me, as they moved without fear

Stomping through struggle kicking down mountains

Rising to surpass expectations

Becoming the head of households

Bringing home the bacon

Realize that I hold destiny in my hands.

Show my daughters that they can

I will gulp this shot with no chaser:

If I remember what Wisdom taught me…..

It’s just pussy.

No matter the condensation this one holds

His snug fit upon entering

The labor I put with it

I have to be more than just pussy

Building a substance behind who I am

Making love to his mind

Hell she can fuck him

We all have a pussy

But if I am the backbone he needs

That missing rib God told Him to find

Her pussy won’t matter because a 1/3 portion has never been more fulfilling a whole

 ©2014 A.N.U All rights reserved

Filed under free write poet Poems draft writer's block

2,670 notes

whenever i see someone else with scars like this
out in public
i always get this weird pressure inside of me like
a bird has taken flight suddenly
like i’m not sure whether i want to rush over and
hug them until they cannot breathe or even
just make eye contact to show that i know
what it feels like to think nobody knows
you’re dying, i always am trapped between doing nothing
and saying something like “you are loved
because i know nothing of your story but
you and i, we ache in such bloody ways,”
“we have never met before
but your soul cries out in the same way that mine has,”
“please, i am hoping you recover and you’re in my thoughts”

but see the thing is so much of this instinct
is a protective one,
one that says “i don’t want you to hurt the way
i have, my love”
but see the thing is
my scars are under sleeves and shorts and makeup
so nobody can see them

maybe it’s because i’m afraid one day a girl on the train
will say “i am you and you are me, and my love for you
is the boundless sky”
because then i’d be forced to admit
i might have a problem

i don’t know. i have never ended up
saying anything. i remember every person i’ve seen
with wilting hearts and heavy hands and eyes they keep
downcast and i just hope they’re doing well
because i couldn’t decide if it would be nice for a stranger
to try and save me
or it would just be
hell.

Butterfly tattoos mean something different to you. /// r.i.d (via inkskinned)

I love poetry.