People ask my where my hair went
And I’ve always got a different response
To answer varying inquiries as to how Samson lost the symbol of his strength
Well you see, I’ve had my share of Philistines
Delilahs danced their digits through my locks and dreaded thoughts of me sharing secrets with any other siren
Even while they placed pawns in position to play predator
Hunting prey to please Queens who couldn’t handle the King keeping them in Check
I once wore a crown but abdicated my throne once the stakes in this game rose
I never planned to pay a toll because gold could never outweigh what I built out of my blood sweat and saltwater tears
And yet my soul wasn’t enough to satisfy the appetite of sharks disguised as mermaids
So rather then offer my still beating heart I sacrificed my glory for a chance to start over.
Instead of giving my past authority over my present I separated myself from the pair in favor of my future
And what’s funny about it all is how much I resemble a kid I thought lost to the long forgotten days of innocence.
I resurrected what reminds me of the better days as if acting as incentive to never again give myself carelessly
To women more concerned with ignoring their own brokenness than attempting to let two lives heal in tandem.
See a long-haired Adonis once wrecked a temple and took out every one of his demons at the cost of his breath and I took my cue fro m the cloud of dust lingering over the debris.
There’s no point in letting the heavens send me to an early grave for the sake of someone else’s sunrise.
I’m not fond of making the sky fall but if I had to choose between
shattering the pillars holding the heavens weight from harming their limited concepts of me
Or simply playing along as if I’m only the sum of my looks I’d select the part where I severed ties to a life I no longer Identify with.
I’m a soldier that’s lost the need for a medic.
True, I once came crawling into your tent with a collection of wounds
And you managed to sew and salvage the battered portions of my damaged flesh
Breathed love and affection into my scars and bullet holes until my form returned to health
But as much as I value your ability to nurse weakness into strength with momentum
Id be too tempted to never venture away from where it’s safe if I stay within arms reach avoiding the harm I escaped from
See I can’t grow in rehab. I’m not a potted plant that could retire as easily as trees in a greenhouse.
Im in need of a forest,
unafraid of brush fire and not even an axe could hold me back from the freedom i once ran from
Lions only die in cages separate from their pride and I’d much prefer to end up a pelt over the shoulder of a predator than to embrace death without a fight involved.
My honor is worth more to me than the concept of comfort.
I’d do my bloodline disservice to settle for convenience over capturing the dangerous and complicated.
So I’m sorry but I can’t call on you the next time the front lines bring me to the edge of flatlines
I can’t rely on you to extract shrapnel from grenades I laid on.
I won’t ask you to act like I don’t go looking for land mines just to make sure that the next man to march behind me doesn’t lose life or limb.
I’m still waiting on September to end and d-day to bring me an armistice but I can’t promise that when my ship comes into port
And I’m taking in the fanfare afforded young boys sent off to become men in this seemingly endless war
That you’ll be the woman in uniform I’ve been sleeping in trenches behind enemy lines just to see at my tours end.
You just aren’t the girl I’m looking for.
To that guy who said goodbye to me with a knife behind his back in his front yard
It’s been ten years.
And yet the blood of my greatest kill is still my second skin
Red colors my hand, stained and sticky as the day I put palm to the object of my affection and plucked a diamond in the rough away from a boy who couldn’t smooth out the rough edges
I wonder if he’ll ever understand my regret. That while I wanted the woman of my dreams I never thought I’d be the author of this guys nightmares
While I prayed to God that I wouldn’t condemn a union to hell before the revelation arrived, I do not apologize for becoming the hand of the most high
Putting a benediction where this kids appeal fell on deaf ears.
I never planned to produce a kind of hatred that would keep things heated between he and me even while miles made sure any Mizpah was maintained
I know that none of us are blameless but still is it juvenile to think that nearing the prime of life that maybe he’d consider forgiveness?
I never expected to make bankrupt one man’s patience just to see my own happiness enriched, couldn’t put a price on my prize but still didn’t think he’d put all his chips behind a bluff.
I am sorry but no matter how many years extend our minds between now and what I’ve tried to place behind me
It seems like it’ll never be enough.
See you at Alumni
Hopefully our kids will get to be the friends fate never intended for us to become.
Wouldn’t it be funny if my daughters fell in love with your sons?
“She deserves better, you say. I say: You’re a goddamn coward. What she deserves is an actual person she can connect with. She deserves you, or me or the entire world; she deserves someone achingly real and honest. She deserves a human being equally raw to pursue her and love her and, perhaps, destroy her emotionally, but she deserves all that as well. She doesn’t deserve anyone’s sugary fairytale. She deserves to float freely, with you, or me, or the world, into the very depths of her own psychosynthesis. She deserves to explore the meaning of the word "intimacy", with someone beside her that will care regardless. She fucking deserves all of it. So, pluck up the courage and be with her or leave her in peace but don’t you dare "sell" her your own "inadequacy" as a lie so that, again, you manage to comfort your conscience and eventually come to feel that you love her exactly because you’re letting her go. Because, darling, that’s bullshit. That’s only your own little self-created lie laying behind a much bigger lie; it’s not even properly concealed within itself, you fucking idiot.”—All These Things You Wish You’d Say (via violentwavesofemotion)
“Understanding a people’s culture exposes their normalness without reducing their particularity.”—Clifford Geertz - Thick Description: Toward an Interpretive Theory of Culture
The Interpretation of Cultures, 1973. (via anthmusings)
Do you know how many nights I’ve spent twisting your English off my tongue? I do not take pride in your English. I want to stumble on my words. I want to speak with an accent so thick that it requires silence. I want you to struggle to understand me. Realize your English is not superior. Your English does not equate intelligence. Do not compliment me on how well I have accepted colonization. I do not want your pat on the back. I was forced to learn this language. I didn’t choose to. Your English disconnects me from my people. I am deaf to my own sacred language because of your English.