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Showing posts with label Poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poetry. Show all posts

Words For The Woman In Bloom || Eloghosa Osunde.

Monday, 16 November 2015
I came across Eloghosa a while back on twitter and I promptly followed her after just a quick glance through her TL and tumblr page. She has a way with words that is just too beautiful to read and never fails to give me life.

When I heard of the woman in bloom exhibition which she was going to be showing some of her works at, I was definitely going to show face (I blogged about it in my weekend bits post here).
I was so happy when I came to her section of the exhibition and noticed these short bits of poetry. I knew then and there, that I had to share the beauty that is her words with you all.

I hope you enjoy these as much as I did.
I missed out Number 9 but here's what it says :
“Listen to me,
don’t let anyone steal your joy or your peace.

 – My mother.

God. Don’t wait for the edge.
Sieve the voices.
So you’ll finally hear The One who has
always called you Free.

This is what I love about poetry and words- it shifts something within you.

Eloghosa Osunde is a photographer and writer. Although she exhibited some of her photographs alongside the poetry, it was the poetry that really got to me.
You can view more of her works on her instagram and tumblr.

For more moving poetry from the dope poets I've featured , click here.

Special thanks to Henry Uduku (@mruduku) for helping me take the pictures. 

Poetry || Bassey Ikpi.

Monday, 3 August 2015
I first stumbled upon the genius that is Bassey Ikpi by chance after someone retweeted her onto my twitter timeline.
She was sharing a personal story that day : one of heart break, depression, bipolar disorder and making it through.
I remember telling Mr. A about this amazing woman I followed earlier on twitter, who was real about her struggles in a way that was refreshing to see, unafraid to bare her soul in that manner and how I'm in awe of her for that. Then I googled her and realized that she is actually sort of a big deal : Five time Def poetry jam Poet, writer and mental health advocate.

Today is her birthday and I've been following the #whatbasseytaughtme hashtag on twitter and I happened upon this poem of hers again that I fell in love with the very first time I read it and thought to share.
Its on loving completely,unconditionally : a topic that I've been encountering a lot these past few days in different settings that it seems the universe is trying teach me something. From the pastor on love being the greatest of all commandments to the short dialogue I had last night on loving people without considering whether or not they're worthy.

P.S - I'm not a swear word person and there's a lot of that here but its a great poem regardless.

"Fuck Fear. Love Anyway."
The goal is to be unafraid when you love. 
To turn your shoulder towards the winds and push on. 
To be relentless in your pursuit of it. 
To be fearless and unafraid.

We are so bold in anger and confrontation and so scared and meek in love.
Quick to tell someone off or to give them a piece of your mind.
Slow to place your heart in their hands and say, “Take care of this."
Fear is a trigger.
I wish love was a trigger.
I wish it was what made me tremble and took my breath and made me dizzy.
I want to live in the cliché.
I want to exist in the love song.
Let me be mountain high and river deep. Not tabletop and puddle afraid. 

This has to change.
Something has to be done differently.
The goal is to be fearless in pursuit of all things you love.
To be loud and unapologetic.
No more apologies for who you love and how you choose to love them.
Fuck that. Love them until you don’t.
If they don’t love you back, then cool.
Let them live in fear of you and all your neon-colored love.
Find someone who will love you just as neon and flashing lights.
Leave these beige and understated folks to each other.
Let them have this neutral. This safe. This without risks. This comfortable.
Let them have these ankles barely wet with it. Give me a drowning. Give me up to my neck in it. Give me a boat and an oar. Let me love an ocean’s worth.
Fuck this playing it safe. This afraid to be hurt. We hurt and we live through it.
Fuck fear. Love anyway.
Meditate on that.

If I’m afraid you will take this heart and mash it to bits, then I have no business loving you in the first place.
And you have no right to it.
No reason to exist where I am.
If I’m afraid to say it because you’re afraid to hear it.
Then what good are we? Useless. Absolutely useless then. Nothing.
Two people pretending to do something when all it takes is one move in the right direction. 

I pity you if you don’t love me.
It means you wish for some tethered, close to the wall, hold on to the railing. I’m not that. I’m no tea party or cotillion ball. I’m juke joint. I’m speakeasy. I’m illegal in most states. 
I prefer this. 

I want fucking everything.
Fuck this settling. Fuck this, "I’ll take this because I can’t get that.”
Fuck that. I want that and this.
I will get this and that because I worked for it. I had the nerve to live despite the broken. That takes work.
So fuck the silence. 
Fuck the “I’m not sure.” 
Fuck the “give me time.” 
Time is given. Take forever. There’s someone else who is standing at the edge waiting. I’m going to look for that guy. He gets it. He gets me. He’s neon and light-filled. And he exists. 

I’ve never been easy. I will never be easy. I am a mad woman. I love just as insane. I’m flourish and reckless abandon. I prefer this. Match it or balance it. But don’t fuck with it.
Don’t get close enough to touch and then decide you need this to cool down.
I don’t do cool. I’m fire. I’m heat.
I’m match this or balance it out but get the fuck out of my way if you’re just trying to change it.
Love someone and mean it. It’s just that fucking simple.
If you don’t love, then leave.
If you don’t mean it, then move.
Someone will. I promise you that.
We all have shit to work on but that shit doesn’t mean we don’t get to be loved right the fuck now. 

Related : 

Poetry || Rudy Francisco

Wednesday, 11 March 2015
This poem does the exact same thing to me everytime I read it! Everytime!
It starts off not too slow but I always reach my climax near the mid section (I highlighted these parts)
Its a poem that touches an important problem most youths face : low self esteem, not feeling good enough etc
Its particularly nostalgic because most of my high school days were spent feeling not good enough as well, undeserving of attention. 
It took a while to grow out of that phase and I blogged about that here

Its 4:47am and my brain probably needs to rest but I just had to share this. 
I hope you enjoy it as much as I did and it touches a spot in your heart too.
Remember, You are good enough always!

Rudy Francisco - 17.
If you were to find an old calendar, strap it to a hospital bed
Tie it down by its week-ends, and then C-section the belly of 1999
You’d find the 17 year old version of me
Back when I was a tsunami of awkward
Splashing against the shoreline called
A young lady, who introduced my jaw to the floor whenever she floated into our first period classroom.

This girl, she was a dandelion seed straddling a wish, a dream i never thought would turn flesh and green, but wire hangers like me
We don’t become captain of the football team because the only thing that we are good at is stopping ourselves from saying ‘I like you’ to a girl that holds the remote control to our smiles so we are just blurry silhouettes against the backdrop of everything popular often wearing our skin like a costume of someone we didn’t feel, comfortable pretending to be anyway.
We swallow earthquakes, and then shrivel at the smell of perfume
We got bashful, we got tongue tied
And we got nervous in high definition
So the question is, if a boy falls for a girl that’s out of his league and there’s no one around to hear him.
Does he make a sound?
The answer…the answer is ‘hell’ and the first two letters of ‘nothing’

When I was a senior in high school, I was a pocket full of chalk dust.
I was elevator music on a CD that stuttered like a volkswagen with a really bad transmission.
At this age, I was a ballot box stuffed full of everyone’s opinions except for my own.
My swagger was like watching a walkman trying to swallow a DVD.
At this age, my mouth was a door with hinges covered in rust and I walked as if I was concerned with how the ground would feel about my footsteps
And if I could just find a way to write a letter to that boy who was in an old sweater with itchy sleeves that I will someday grow out of.
I would say, I would say there will be days when you feel like a peacock with no feathers. 
Like you are flightless, and undeserving of attention. 
But listen, you have to stop getting out of bed like an oil spill. 
You’re not a flat tire at 2 am, so stop acting like an accident. 
You’re not an accident, you’re not a fucking accident Rudy!

You’re an apple on a pine tree in a room full of lemons
And you come from a long line,
And you come from a long line of Swiss army pocket knives
Men who are small, sharp, and dangerous when not handled carefully
Some days I wish that my arms were 12 years long so I could reach all the way back there and grab you by the shoulders, shake you, and say
Listen… you are the main character in a movie that I watch
Every time I see the inside of my eyelids
I told myself a million times that I wouldn’t spoil the ending
But I will tell you this, your story starts off really slow…
But it does get better, and you don’t have to believe me
Someday you’ll see for yourself

And when you see _________ at the senior prom, ignore the washing machine in your stomach.
Tell her she looks beautiful tonight, Extend your arm like a drawbridge to a castle
That no one has visited in years, and say
'Will you dance with me?

You can find more of my awesome poetry finds here

Cassandra Ikegbune

Poetry || Anis Mojgani

Sunday, 17 August 2014

Yet another beautiful poetry find and because i feel like I'm so at peace these days that i fear i'm beginning to forget how much of a mess i was and how dark and gloomy my days were. I mean what's the use of getting through the dark if you can't go back to let others know that there's truly light at the end of the tunnel? This is what I'm here for, to share experiences and lessons and hope that i reach to someone out there. This way the pain makes a little bit more sense. 
I actually don't know what this poem is called but i stumbled on it recently. I hope you enjoy it and it touches you as much as it touched me .

This is for the fat girls.
This is for the little brothers.
This is for the school-yard wimps, this is for the childhood bullies who tormented them.
This is for the former prom queen, this is for the milk-crate ball players.
This is for the nighttime cereal eaters and for the retired, elderly Wal-Mart store front door greeters. Shake the dust.
This is for the benches and the people sitting upon them,
for the bus drivers driving a million broken hymns,
for the men who have to hold down three jobs simply to hold up their children,
for the nighttime schoolers and the midnight bike riders who are trying to fly. Shake the dust.
This is for the two-year-olds who cannot be understood because they speak half-English and half-god. Shake the dust.
For the girls with the brothers who are going crazy,
for those gym class wall flowers and the twelve-year-olds afraid of taking public showers,
for the kid who’s always late to class because he forgets the combination to his lockers,
for the girl who loves somebody else. Shake the dust.
This is for the hard men, the hard men who want to love but know that it won’t come.
For the ones who are forgotten, the ones the amendments do not stand up for.
For the ones who are told to speak only when you are spoken to and then are never spoken to. Speak every time you stand so you do not forget yourself.
Do not let a moment go by that doesn’t remind you that your heart beats 900 times a day and that there are enough gallons of blood to make you an ocean.
Do not settle for letting these waves settle and the dust to collect in your veins.
This is for the celibate pedophile who keeps on struggling,
for the poetry teachers and for the people who go on vacations alone.
For the sweat that drips off of Mick Jaggers’ singing lips and for the shaking skirt on Tina Turner’s shaking hips, for the heavens and for the hells through which Tina has lived.
This is for the tired and for the dreamers and for those families who’ll never be like the Cleavers with perfectly made dinners and sons like Wally and the Beaver.
This is for the biggots,
this is for the sexists,
this is for the killers.
This is for the big house, pen-sentenced cats becoming redeemers and for the springtime that always shows up after the winters.
This? This is for you.
Make sure that by the time fisherman returns you are gone.
Because just like the days, I burn both ends and every time I write, every time I open my eyes I am cutting out a part of myself to give to you.
So shake the dust and take me with you when you do for none of this has never been for me.
All that pushes and pulls, pushes and pulls for you.
So grab this world by its clothespins and shake it out again and again and jump on top and take it for a spin and when you hop off shake it again for this is yours.
Make my words worth it, make this not just another poem that I write, not just another poem like just another night that sits heavy above us all.
Walk into it, breathe it in, let is crash through the halls of your arms at the millions of years of millions of poets coursing like blood pumping and pushing making you live, shaking the dust.
So when the world knocks at your front door, clutch the knob and open on up, running forward into its widespread greeting arms with your hands before you, fingertips trembling though they may be in gratitude

There has been so much talk on suicide lately but I don't think people understand just how real depression is. If you ever need to talk or just need a friend ( I was totally kidding about the 6ft thing, you don't have to be 6ft to be my friend. Lol)  please don't hesitate to send me an

Cassandra Ikegbune

For Times When You Feel Lonely/Left Out

Friday, 6 June 2014
Its a dull friday evening, the type you are already accustomed to.
Some days you are fine with this slow paced tempo that is your life but other days like today when the rigors of medical school is threatening to drive you crazy, you wish you could have even just a little bit of that fast lane life, that you could be the type with friends who sit over dinner sharing hugs and laughs.
So you sit there on the new couch which would never quite be like your childhood couch, that one with the lace trimmings. You sit there awaiting the arrival of the rest of your family, and you think about your slow paced life.
Of how you never have friends invite you out for drinks and the random craziness that people your age are having.
Of how it seems the people you know, know each other and have somehow found a way to push you out of their growing circle
Of how you may just be deluding yourself into believing you actually have friends.
This amongst other thoughts start to color your mood a dark shade of grey.  But in that moment, I hope you remember that its okay to feel this way sometimes, like the world is closing in on you and no one can see it.
I hope you remember to be kind to yourself, to let go of things that weigh you down. Things in which you have no control over because soon you'll come to realise that not a thing matters.
Not the people you thought couldn't live without you then did just that, not the friends you thought would always have your back but somehow got trapped in their own lives, not any of that.
Take a deep breath, listen to that song that puts you in the right mood, pick a book, call your sister/ that person that can get you going.
You'll be fine once you stop stressing the little things.
You'll be fine honey.

Cassandra Ikegbune

Poetry || Rupi Kaur

Monday, 17 March 2014

Honestly guys, i didn't intend to blog tonight. I have a pile of untouched books to deal with but somehow someway, i found myself on tumblr (Please don't judge me) and came across a quote by Rupi Kaur and of course the CIA in me just had to dig for more of her works
I found Gold!!

The Quote i came across

"every time you tell your daughter you yell at her out of love
you teach her to confuse anger with kindness
which seems like a good idea till she grows up to
trust men who hurt her cause they look so much like you."

Some of the others i like

"your mother complains you are not tall enough.
your father worries you’re wilting away.
your friends say you look tired.
your boyfriend wishes you’d stretch in all the places he likes holding onto.
i’d like to know how the empress inside your body.
the master of your soul.
i’d like to know how that storm they call a woman. I’d like to know
how she’s feeling."

 Did you think i was a city big enough for a weekend getaway?
I am the town surrounding it, the one you've never heard of but always pass through
There are no neon lights here, no skyscrapers or statues
but there is thunder, for i make bridges tremble
I am not street meat, i am homemade jam thick enough to cut the sweetest thing your lips will touch
I am not police sirens, i am the crackle in a fireplace
I'd burn you and you wouldnt take your eyes off me
I am not a hotel room, i am home
I am not the whiskey you want. i'm the ater you need
Don't come here with expectations and try to make a vacation out of me

"my issue with what they consider beautiful is that their concept of beauty
centres around excluding people
i find hair beautiful when a woman wears it like a garden on her skin
That is the definition of beauty
big hooked noses that point upwards to the sky like they’re rising to the occasion
skin the colour of earth my ancestors planted crops on to feed a lineage of women with
thighs thick as tree trunks
eyes like almonds, deeply hooded with conviction
the rivers of panjab flow through my bloodstream
so don’t tell me my women aren’t as beautiful as the ones in your country"

there’s a question that people love asking
it’ll come up about 10 minutes into the conversation
right after the small talk about weather and how work has been
are you seeing anybody?
and then the curious few will even find it in themselves to ask, aren’t you lonely,
this poem is for them.
you see, my solitude is the greatest freedom i’ve been given
my lonely is so brilliant
it puts daylight to shame
i am not sad
i am so happy i swear my
insides are filled with  strawberry milk and my mouth holds more
adventures than tastebuds
give me more lonely, let me greet lonely with open arms.
let me sleep with it, find peace in it.

"the problem is,
you say i love you
when you really mean,
i’m afraid to be alone

Don't mistake salt for sugar.
If he wants to be with you, he will
Its that simple.

"perhaps, the saddest of all are those who
live waiting for someone they’re not even sure exists"

 God bless tumblr and Poetry
You can read more of her poems here : Rupi Kaur

Cassandra Ikegbune

To unforgotten friends

Tuesday, 25 February 2014

I thought about you today
About the beautiful times we had
And the memories we made
From the early morning jobs to that one time I was a mess.
Who am I kidding, I was always a mess
 Oh and the little drama's
I want to write our story but the words aren't coming out right
Did we even ever have a story?
How have you been?
I really hope the years have been kind to you.

I thought about you today
All the way back to when we were still bright eyed, just getting into med school
Dreaming about being models
calling up agencies together
Getting scammed together
How have you been?
I hope the years have been kind to you.

I thought about you today
Diploma days.
Struggling to get our names written in pen
Remember that one time we spent the night at the mosque?
You knew me when I was at my worst
When I wasn't even sure of myself
yet you loved me that way
How have you been?
I hope the years have been kind to you.

To all the ones I've loved and Lost
Due to time and distance
Due to Pride and plain childishness.

I miss you
And I know we can't have what we had back but
I'm grateful you were once a part of my life

Cassandra Ikegbune

Poetry || Warsan Shire

Wednesday, 29 January 2014
OMG!! Guysssss!!! I've found my new muse! I've found another Writer/Poet to love. Warsan Shire!
You see how tumblr is amazing? You see? I randomly came across one of her quotes on tumblr and i did some CIA work googling and uncovered some of her poetry.
Warsan Shire is a London-based Kenyan-born Somali writer and she writes the Truth!!! I'm just going to share three of her poems that touched my soul

you are a horse running alone and he tries to tame you,compares you to an impossible highway, to a burning house. Says you are blinding him, that he could never leave you
forget you, want anything but you. you dizzy him, you are unbearable
every woman before or after you, is doused in your name
you fill his mouth, his teeth ache with memory of taste
his body just a long shadow seeking yours. But you are always too intense
frightening in the way you want him, unashamed and sacrificial
he tells you that no man can live up to the one who lives in your head
and you tried to change didn’t you?
closed your mouth more
tried to be softer, prettier, less volatile, less awake

but even when sleeping you could feel him traveling away from you in his dreams
so what did you want to do love, split his head open?
you can’t make homes out of human beings.
someone should have already told you that
and if he wants to leave, then let him leave
you are terrifying, and strange and beautiful
something not everyone knows how to love.

 ‘it’s not him who’d come across the sea to surprise you, not him who would know where in london to find you’
how far have you walked for men who’ve never held your feet in their laps?
how often have you bartered with bone, only to sell yourself short?
why do you find the unavailable so alluring?
where did it begin? what went wrong? and who made you feel so worthless?
if they wanted you, wouldn’t they have chosen you?
all this time, you were begging for love silently,thinking they couldn’t hear you, but they smelt it on you, you must have known that they could taste the desperate on your skin?
and what about the others that would do anything for you, why did you make them love
you until you could not stand it?
how are you both of these women, both flighty and needful?
where did you learn this, to want what does not want you?
where did you learn this, to leave those that want to stay?

God, my alone feels so good, but lately I’ve craving something more, something deeper
I want love. But not just any kind of Love, no, I want a love so deep it’d make the ocean jealous.
But I’ll only have you if you’re sweeter than my solitude. You must love me for everything I’m worth
and then some.
Start with my eyes, look into them like you want to know all the good, bad, and anything beyond. From my eyes go to my mind, love me for everything I know and love me just as much to teach me what I do not.
Hold me in your arms, and love me for everything I am, from my breasts to my thighs, and even the
scars that others have left behind
But tell me if you’re not up for it…Not that you don’t want me but rather you can’t handle me.
And please don’t say, “I won’t be like those other dudes and break your heart.”
You see my solitude has always been sweet, and during that time I learned to love myself before I
could learn to love anyone else.
Give me the love that I’ve been craving, make the ocean jealous. Fall for my eyes without knowing me just yet
And then kiss me like you want to be loved just as much
Remember that I want to be loved as deep as the ocean, but remember that I am like the ocean
I can slip through your fingers, but manage to hold up an army of ships
Kiss me, hold me, love me, but tell me if you’re not up for it
I’ll only have you if you’re sweeter than my solitude

Cassandra Ikegbune

Eighteen years : On Loving All Of Me

Saturday, 25 January 2014

It took me 18 years to realize that I could make heads turn when I walked by and even then It was a realization tinged with the dark colors of doubt

It took me 18 years to realize I could just reach up and unstick the plain jane' label placed on my forehead by every time I was overlooked.

Ah, Yes. the forehead. It took me 18 years to realize that this mountain wasn't to be hidden by tufts of hair but to be shown off like the beautiful landmark it is.

It took me eighteen years to realize that my squinty eyes though slant and sometimes unequal could even be called beautiful

18years to realize that I was a goldfish, made to stand out. That not all flowers bloom at the same time. 

It took me today to "fully" realize that I don't have to try to be prettier, softer, or dress more feminine. To embrace my quirkiness

Eighteen Years.
It took to learn to fully love all of me. 

Cassandra Ikegbune
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Poetry || Andrea Gibson II

Friday, 18 October 2013
I already talked about my love for poetry and especially poetry by Andrea gibson HERE . Her words move me in a way I find difficult to explain. I've been going through her tumblr and googling up some of her poems, she's simply amazing! I couldn't just pick one poem to put up here because I love almost all of them equally and they all speak to me so I decided to select some of my favorite parts from the different poems to share with you guys.

Doctor, our insanity is not that we see people who aren’t there. It’s that we ignore the ones who are.

You’d say, “This kind of love has to be a verb.” We are paint on a slick canvas – it’s gonna take a whole lot to stick but if we do, we’ll be a masterpiece.

- I DO

“What do you mean you’re small? Of course you’re small. We’re all small, but we are small like the moon is small in the sky and not a wave would ever find its way to shore without us

‘NO NO NO I am not fine’! Fine is the suckiest word, it never tells the truth and more than anything i have ever been afraid of I am terrified of lies

And every time you’re full of sorrow. Every time you wake up crying, Know that that day is a perfect day to shine

Every year you have more to lose, but you can choose to bury your past in the garden beside the tulips water it until it’s so alive it lets go and you belong to yourself again

Sometimes it takes the most wounded wings, the most broken things to notice how strong the breeze is, how precious the flight”

“ Forests may be gorgeous but there is nothing more alive than a tree that learns how to grow in a cemetery.”

You are not weak just because your heart feels so heavy.

We have to create; it is the only thing louder than destruction, it is the only chance the bars are gonna break.

So this morning, I decided how I want to live. What I want to give..What kind of song I want to sing. Now I’m no longer looking at my days like they’re a cup calling them half empty or half full when they’ve always been enough. They’ll always be enough to fill me up if I stop thinking so much and start drinking them up

Don’t google your name.  Ever.  Don’t “search” for yourself on anything that glows in the dark.
Don’t let your beauty be something anyone can turn off.
Don’t edit your ugly out of your bio. Let your light come from the fire.
Let your pain be the spark, but not the timber.
Remember, you didn’t come here to write your heart out. You came to write it in

I also included the links to the full poems incase you are interested in reading it , just click on the names of the poems
If you do check them out, please tell me your favourite parts too and which parts spoke to you the most! I'll really love to know

Cassandra Ikegbune

This is for you! Yes You

Saturday, 7 September 2013
I write this for all those who have ever felt invincible
The Ugly ducklings
The Wall flowers
For all those who ever thought the only way out was suicide
The cutters
To All those who had to turn to drugs to numb the pain
For all those in pursuit of happiness that seems so far away
So I put pen to paper and put a little bit of my heart out there
For all who had to cry themselves to sleep
Whose only companion seemed to be the tears
They were always there.
The third wheels
I write this for everyone out there who has had to deal with any form of abuse
The ones from broken homes
For the misunderstood and the dreamers
For the Young girls who had to support themselves before they were old enough to understand life
For the young men who long stopped believing in life. In Love
The models struggling to keep at it even with all the rejections
For the med students who have dealt with failure.
This is for the faded beauty queens, for the little ones afraid to test the waters.
For the forgotten ones and the ones afraid to speak up.

This, This is for You.

You are perfect
You are strong
You are good enough
You are smart enough.

Don't let anyone tell you otherwise!
Don't let life's struggles bring you down. 

So grab this bull called life by the horns and pull and push till you finally conquer

Cassandra Ikegbune

Its okay to be not okay

Thursday, 22 August 2013
Little miss perfect
Carried on for too long
Thinking you can do it on your own
Heal on your own
I know they said "be strong
Oh and the books all said the same
Hide your pain little one they all seemed to scream 

See baby, 
Its okay to be not okay
When your hearts breaking
Its okay to let it all out 
Tears don't make you weak
And what if you are breaking?
We all are a little broken
Life breaks us all

See baby,
Its okay to hurt
And Its okay to feel a little scared 
a little lonely 
Almost like a stray yet to find home
Searching for solace

See baby,
Its okay to yearn to be held while you cry into the arms of another
Okay to need a shoulder to cry on.
Perhaps if we could all come together and talk about our problems,
we might realize that this solitude is only a thing of the mind. 

               - Cassandra Ikegbune

This is a note to myself and to everyone else out there who can relate

One phrase I've gotten quite used to is "I'm fine", even when I'm clearly not fine. Because sometimes shit gets so hard, med school depresses me and my personal life is a mess that I just want to curl into a ball and remain that way. This is just a reminder that its okay to not have things figured out all the time and to just not be okay

P.S - That picture wasn't taken with this poem (if i can call it that) in mind but i thought it worked so yeah

Oh and another picture in the same setting but of me doing my ugly wide laughter -__-

Poetry || Andrea Gibson

Wednesday, 7 August 2013
I was never really a big fan of poetry, never actually had the patience to read all that long stuff and i barely understood some of them. I don't know exactly when all that changed but right now i'm seriously attracted to it especially the form of  poetry Lyric Poetry - "a genre that, unlike epic and dramatic poetry, does not attempt to tell a story but instead is of a more personal nature. it portrays the poet's own feelingsstates of mind, and perceptions".
I think i have finally accepted that i'm "something" of a writer thanks to you guys and all the positive responses I've been getting. Although i still don't think its that deep. Really, i just write down whatever is in my head and its been really therapeutic. 
I just recently  began actively seeking out poems to read, that was when i came across this awesome poem by Andrea Gibson and i thought it will be criminal of me not to share. I mean how can i take in that much honesty and not react? I can't even begin to explain how i felt when i read this but i was jealous a bit. I somehow wished i was smart enough to think that up
I'm going to try and recreate it someday. My own Version ^_^

Okay, enough rambling. -_-
Ahh, see my boo.  Yes! She's a She. i think -_-

Asking too much - Andrea Gibson.
I want you to tell me about every person you've ever been in love with.
Tell me why you loved them, then tell me why they loved you.
Tell me about a day in your life you didn't think you’d live through.
Tell me what the word home means to you
And tell me in a way that I’ll know your mother’s name just by the way you describe your bedroom when you were eight.
See, I wanna know the first time you felt the weight of hate and if that day still trembles beneath your bones.
Do you prefer to play in puddles of rain or bounce in bellies of snow?
And if you were to build a snowman, would you rip two branches from a tree to build your snowman arms?
Or would you leave your snowman arm less for the sake of being harmless to the tree?
And if you would, would you notice how the tree weeps for you because your snowman has no arms to hug you every time you kiss him on the cheek?
Do you kiss your friends on the cheek?
Do you sleep besides them when they’re sad, even if that makes your lover mad?
Do you think that anger is a sincere emotion or just the timid motion of a fragile heart trying to beat away its pain?
See, I wanna know what you think of your first name.
And if you often lie awake at night and imagine your mother’s joy when she spoke it for the very first time.
I want you to tell me all the ways you've been unkind.
Tell me all the ways you've been cruel.
Tell me- knowing that I often picture Gandhi at ten years old beating up little boys at school.
If you were walking by a chemical plant, where smoke stacks were filling the sky with dark, black clouds, would you holler, “Poison! Poison! Poison!” really loud or would you whisper, “That cloud looks like a fish, and that cloud looks like a fairy”?
Do you believe that Mary was really a virgin?
Do you believe that Moses really parted the sea?
And if you don’t believe in miracles, how would you explain the miracle of my life to me?
See, I wanna know if you believe in any god, or if you believe in many gods. Or better yet, what gods believe in you.
And for all the times you've knelt before the temple of yourself, have the prayers you’ve asked come true?
And if they didn't did you feel denied? And if you felt denied, denied by who[m]?
I wanna know what you see when you look in the mirror on a day you’re feeling good.
I wanna know what you see in the mirror on a day you’re feeling bad.
I wanna know the first person who ever taught you your beauty could ever be reflected on a piece of lousy glass.
If you ever reach enlightenment, would you remember how to laugh?
Have you ever been a song?
Would you think less of me if I told you I have lived my entire life a little off key and I’m not nearly as smart as my poetry. I just plagiarized the thoughts of the people around me who have learned the wisdom of silence.
Do you believe that concrete perpetuates violence?
And if you do I want you to tell me of a meadow where my skateboard will soar.
See I wanna know more than what you do for a living.
I wanna know how much of your life you spend just giving.
And if you love yourself enough to also receive sometimes.
I wanna know if you bleed sometimes through other people’s wounds.
And if you dream sometimes that this life is just a balloon that if you wanted you could pop – but you never would because you’d never want it to stop.
If a tree fell in the forest, and you were the only one there to hear it, if it’s fall to the ground didn't make a sound, would you panic in fear that you didn't exist or would you just bask in the bliss of your nothingness?
And lastly, let me ask you this: if you and I went for a walk, and the entire walk we didn't talk, do you think that eventually we’d kiss?
No way. That’s asking’ too much – after all, this is only our first date.

I love you for this poem Andrea!!
:') :")

Cassandra Ikegbune

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