Introduction to Scrolls

Located on the path of future ridden 

Realities...

Who would have dreamt about this...

Deserted among flood infested pillows - observant walls filled with hopes and aspirations falling on deaf ears

We collided...

and Today

We are still here...

I dedicate my scrolls 

To You.

Loveee Poem

See all music videos Rihanna

I
Don't
Mean
To
Give
The
Wrong
Impression

But I have been crushed to pulp fiction of past enamored anguish

Punished by unborn aspirations turned putrid fruition I just need to be put into a different acquisition.

Love drunk to sip the last drop. Tears prevailed, soaking into sheets, pain glowing in the dark,
Hurt only mentioned to walls

I've been abandoned by past suitors that ever followed to suit to what their incantations clamored ...left to front the world against myself since it never grew into us....

Until us grew...afraid to leave the safety of my cocoon I rather push you away when I incline for you to remain attempting the miracle of my completion...I've been trying to heal my wounds as I inflict scars into you

Fighting to protect my bravado...

But
I
N
E
E
D
LOVE and
Affec
Tion

Dispersing hail sized disbelief, sublimating previous me...I can't help but to repress this feeling in captivity preventing it to escape and still needing to display the synchronized way of telepathic speech between pacemakers...I know you are the one meant to make the pace of dedicated reincarnations

I need you as Adam needed Eve you are the missing piece to the riddles in my granite heart... You're the answer to the unspoken questions...you're the reason I surrender my shield...you're the reason I feel

I need you every second, I cannot help my imbalance when I let go of your phalanges...

I seem to be falling

Discovering another organ to keep me in homeostasis, the reason why my sun rises and the moon sets

I hope
I
Am
Not
Sounding
To
Desperate

"Can you love me for poor "
My soul has had holes in it for years

I see the hesitation in the way you manage your expedition into the catacombs of my aorta

Tugging in war within various vas deferens...going in circles as mind and emotive become a labyrinth

"Whoever turned you cold
You need to let 'em know
I can work miracles "

In disposition to let all ties of concocted realities chip away...releasing blocks of heavy disbelief to save the hero...of my internal renovations

I
Don't
Mean
To
Give
The
Wrong
Impression

But "when I love you close,
You can feel my heart beating thru my clothes"

It's something I can't control as I refuse to let go

I hope
I
Am
Not
Sounding
To
Desperate

Committing self inflicted treason for conquest of copious curing, deconstructed love chants converted into core conclusions

But

I

N
E
E
D
LOVEEE

and
A
F
F
E
C
Tion

©DISorientedDIVA 2013

Why I wash his clothes....

See from the moment he walks into the room leaving trails of a long hard day...(socks) for me to follow I know

Daddy's home.

As his polo comes off letting the heat of sweat poured into growing dedication of self growth and sacrifice

I know it is he who comes with sighs.

Refusing to let frustration and cracked corporate crap mentally rupture his peace

His wife beater is the next piece to free himself of battled restrains the soreness of his struggle to maintain the journey God has allowed him one more chance to step

Timbs or Nikes left apart almost like stones meant to trip through the guided path of un-defeat tired and sore feet

Khakis pulling together holes of his past and dirt stains of his future...overcoming obstacle on a daily basis

I wash his clothes because he requires help in sorting through different textures and colors of life

Because he has been buried before under dirty laundry and not many have helped to unravel the possibility of softening the blows of harsh cold washouts- repetitive cycles

Taking blows while spinning under heated pile of weight placed on shoulders

Baskets of darks tilting On his head...

Handing the whites to him instead...fold these as you can store them into the crisp creases of togetherness. My intentions come with no hidden tint.

I wash his clothes not because of sexist obligations but of admiration of who he's decided to become.

What He decided to Gain from riding away from the Tide waiting for him to soften the harsh realities of true cleanliness.

I wash his clothes because deep down inside the piles that come and go. Obstacles get hanged and the rest Eventually gets folded And stored.

I wash his clothes because I not get at wit's end with loose ends of damp sock trails

But because we chose one another to [c]Lean on when broken or incomplete. When the radiance of our colors are not as before.

I choose to defend him with Arm and Hammer. Leaving his clothes like never before.

I wash his clothes...
because
I love the end result a clean warrior ready for another week into the future with a fresh perspective.

I wash his clothes because

I
L o v e
H i m
©DISorientedDIVA 2013

Dear God,

Diosito,

Sealing internal yearnings with hope that only one person can give.

Closing my eyes shut and having silent conversations

Muttering under vocal chords
Speaking to myself and God in soliloquys

Uncovering a naked soul,
a child more to look after,
thanking and
Wishing he here's my pleas

Learning to return to and rebuild the relationship that at times I fail to grow

Planing seeds to reep what I sow.

Sometimes. I forget to fertilize the foundation. Searching...restarting the soul...again

Looking for the rainbows after the rain...pushing away the defeat...running back to the guidance that I often fail to follow

Ay diosito...you know of my imperfections and still we are made in your image...amazing

Dear God,
I'm walking towards a light in which I have been struggling to reopen the blinds and let it shine in...

Refusing to be the fool...who rejects sun rays for darkness...

Taking steps forward...instead of gliding in reverse.

Bondye,

I digress for self lament grabbing onto an extended hand of hope and faith ...revisiting tracks as I have circled the loss of my way...

Retracing steps towards the beaten path as new signs lead the direction.

As I ask and you reciprocate. Promises scribed in scripture with the one request of praising your name fearlessly in return

Mon Dieu,

I have grown weary, some of those who we should call brothers and sisters have failed to cover basic guidelines of treating one another correctly

Injustice of the flesh, enemies multiplied, joining forces.

Dios mio,

I turn my back to those who speak with tainted tongues. Focusing not on the calamities that continue to sting into open wounds.

Looking for healing. We request so much, we ask and cannot give back, "what is man that you are mindful of him, the son of man that you care for him?"

Releasing the last thread of failure stricken sentiments from the bruisings of lightened shoulders.

Grabbing hold of faith...as I would as a child holding my colosso's hands-a giant as my father resembled that of a God towering me.

Unsealing internal yearnings...sowing what I reap for better days in brightness I shall travel.

I am flawed so I may take steps with disorientation...yet still not losing direction.

Dear God,

Expect my calls...I'm coming back to you...

©DISorientedDIVA 2013

Making the Poem Cry...

I can't see it coming down my eyes so I gotta make lacrimals well up within the pointed ball of my pen.


Refusing saltine filled secretions climb down cheeks


I feel the disease of triste

Have drips from self inflicted puncture wounds blend with the margins in my sheets.


Refusing to leak physically but literally infusing the aching drops into scraps of recycled murdered trees

A lump in my esophagus transposed through phalanges as my pacemaker ticks the sounds of echoing defeat



Love connotations hath no glory upon which dismay leaves its imprint



Becoming a being other than thyself




Wolven form howling at the night as to release what I refuse to portray...sin filling the greens of my soul's windows followed by a bluish gray...as color leaves my self portrait reflected in the mirror.


I refuse to let it come down my eyes so I thrust and slash into electronic notes like a madwoman who's lost her mental nodes

Running from the acceptance of loss. Shattering bravado, shards of the statue, lay in the dark

Allowing walls to critique...consuming me...the darkness chose me...as forever displays itself upon the disappearing stars gas filled earth disappears into an unclaimed universe

Your letting go hurts...bitter-sweetness of retaliation dressed in Sheep's clothing


I remain clothed as the emperor was...bare of anything other than

I can't see it coming down my eyes but I decided to make this scripture screech...ink spilling its excess...as the poem cries for me.


Conveniently in denial of emotional distress stabbing drops upon verbatim as this noun get rejected into periods. Ellipses replacing representations of what is forcing a grimace of physical reality...quoting sad songs to express my truth

As I can't see it coming down my eyes will I remain Lyrically suffering for you...

©DISorientedDIVA 2013

Making you....Immortal

I want to...

 M

A

K

E

Y O U

 immortal in order to never feel as if I was forgetting you....
As I can continue to relive through stored data in my cerebrum
Releasing endorphins as I travel through times of 

hands held, 

songs danced, and 

stories told
Poetry placed into fingertips and art came to life.
They say I have a voice of a poet sorta like you did and...

 that side smile
I reenact through wrinkles in time 

laughter  and uncomfortable coming of age conversations
I replay angry discussions 

as we were too much alike to get along
...hot tempered, short fuse and too much pride...getting in the way of growth.
But at the end of the day, we'd cool off sit together read and hear music together
Hang out and hold hands
as I always remained in the shadow of my colossus
Going back to rewind Aesop's Fables and Anansi  and cultural tales of history so that I would be wise and knowledgeable of my culture
Retracing childhood 

and 

pre-teen years 

in order to grasp unto every step 

taken 

beside you
In order to never have a blurry thought 

and 

keep it machete sharp...
Refusing to replace the terabytes of my neurons with unimportant figures.
Tattooing you into the depths of my spirit.
As I carve you into  existence 

to keep you alive in memo graphic essence.

I want to...

 M

A

K

E

Y O U

 immortal in order to never feel as if I was forgetting you....

 

...in order to never feel 

as if I am 

running out of ink ...
slowly forgetting how to transcribe you....into immortality
...Papi...

08.15.55-01.02.05

 ©DISorientedDIVA 2013